Not So Innocent

ෆ Not So Innocent

Synopsis: Sweet and innocent girls like you are his favorite thing in this wretched world.

CW: f!reader, pro-soccer player!Bachira, cunnilingus, lowkey dirty talk + corruption kink, inexperienced + implied virgin reader, car sex. This is for my beloved @sleepysnk ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

When you go out with both your friends and his, Bachira can’t help but keep his eyes on you most of the time. The pretty little skirt and crop top, coupled by that cute little soft pink makeup on your eyes, and gloss on your lips—Bachira is unable to avert his gaze, making it easy to get caught by you (and literally everyone.)

His eyes are wide, your bright smile sends shivers down his spine as you jump happily over winning some fucking game that he doesn’t even know the name of—the stupid and embarrassed look on your face as you sit and listen to everyone unabashedly talking about their sexual life. 

The hookup culture that you never wanted to participate in, and the relationships that you’re always too afraid of being in. Bachira’s eyes never leave your face, he’s scrutinizing every little detail of your cute reactions that you keep failing to hide from everyone. He keeps his gaze on you as he talks about that one time he let one of his fans suck him off in the locker room. Smirking to himself when he realized that you’re sweating from how the heat of your body was creeping up your face from all the unnecessary details he began to spill.

Damn.

Sweet and innocent girls like you are his favorite thing in this wretched world.

Bachira cackles when Isagi begs him to stop. 

Bachira doesn’t think that you’ll ever manage to get out of your comfort zone—you don’t seem bold enough for any of this. Damnit, he really wishes he could be the first to watch the way you’d cry from being pleasured by something—someone other than your pretty little fingers.

-

The next time the friend group hangs out at a club, you find yourself clinging to Bachira’s side since the others were already fucking around with other people, or too busy dancing. And you think that maybe it’s the drinks, but his hands are definitely playing with the plush of your thighs. Squeezing and pinching all that he can. 

You feel heat pooling between your legs when he places his hand on your inner thigh, letting his palm rest there as he draws circles with his thumb while chatting with Chigiri. 

“Bachira…” your voice is weak, dimmed by the loud music too, but he hears you regardless. 

“Hm?” His head turns to you, a small smile playing on his lips as your foggy eyes blink slowly at him. He leans towards you, his lips purposely brushing along your jaw before he presses them near your ear. “Do you wanna go somewhere private?” Bachira whispers.

The smile on his lips is stretched into a grin when you nod at him, eyes wide and doe—his fingers tighten to squeeze your thigh, then he taps you gently as he stands. 

You don’t expect to end up in his car, but there you were in the back seats of his SUV—kissing him desperately as your hands touch around his body, a man’s body…something you’ve never seen nude nor touched in your entire life. You are puzzled at the way you become so fucking needy, your body craved him ardently, wishing to be touched by his firm hands. 

Bachira’s pupils are dilated as his golden orbs glow brightly when he looks at you. His eyes smile with him at the way you attempt to follow his lips after the kiss is broken. “Don’t be hasty,” Bachira says. 

You are silent, peering at him and watching the way he smiles down at you as he removes his shirt. You shyly raise your hips for him to drag down your skirt along with your panties; instantly clamping your thighs to hide your most intimate part. 

“I’ll have to see what I’m feasting on, no?” Bachira’s palms grab your knees, fighting against your shyness until you let him spread you apart. 

Clenching at the cool air as it hits your dripping wetness, the back of your hand is over your mouth as you peer at Bachira. He is watching you through narrowed eyes, he blows some air on you then licks a quick stripe over your clit—giggling softly at the way your shoulders shake from shuddering, he presses a kiss to the side of your vulva, a bit close to your inner thigh. 

“Grab my hair if you need to,” is the last thing you hear before you’re struck with sparks of pleasure. Your abdomen clenches at the warmth of his wet tongue as he flicks your clit hungrily, your eyes dip behind your head and your fingers find purchase in his hair—subconsciously gripping the soft, ebony locks. 

So sweet, Bachira thinks. Fuck, you taste so good. 

You take care of your body so much, yet you never give yourself to anyone. Why are you letting him have you in the backseats of his car? Bachira wonders if you’ve ever had those nasty little thoughts about him the same way he does about you. 

The possibility of this situation happening earlier than this makes Bachira’s cock throb painfully. 

He’s thankful to taste you—to be the first one to taste you; Bachira’s tongue swirls your clit, flicks it messily between every two long stripes. He squeezes your thighs as he pushes his face deeper into your pussy. 

Your thighs tremble and your toes curl as tight as the knot in your lower belly before it snaps, causing your back to arch tight and your jaw to slack as your eyes are screwed shut when you cum over his tongue. Bachira moans as he sucks on your inner folds, collecting your juices with his tongue to swallow them and relish in the taste that lingers on his taste buds. 

“Sweet girl,” he pressed his thumbs in the plush of your ass. “How was it?” Bachira asks, hovering over your sprawled form. 

Your eyes are glossed from your tears, yet you keep them open to gaze into his darkened ones. “So…good,” you say, and it’s breathless too. 

He leans to kiss your sweetness into your mouth—letting you have a taste of yourself; Bachira thinks that maybe you’ll understand why you deserve to be licked and fucked good. 

Your arms lazily wrap around him, feeling giddy at the way he kisses your tongue, and swirls his own over yours. His hand trails between your legs, he dips a finger into you to feel how wet you are, then he adds another to stretch you a bit as he pumps them into you. 

“Bachira—”

“Say Meguru,” he murmurs into your neck. 

You hum softly, swallowing thickly as you mutter out his name, “Meguru…”

“What is it baby?”

“I haven’t…I haven’t done this before.” Your voice is timid when you speak, and the way you look at him makes his heart clench from all the wicked thoughts that simmer in his brain.

“Oh of course you haven’t,” he giggles, not caring about the offense he’s stuck you with. “Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.” 

Your face feels hot—your body is burning hot as well, too exuberant to even speak your thoughts anymore. There is a real cock in front of you, it’s not from some porn video on your screen, and it’s not anyone else’s; it’s Bachira’s. 

Bachira Meguru, the boy you’ve crushed on since middle school, and grew up to watch him become a professional soccer player. 

Holy fuck, is all you can think of when Bachira squeezes his hard cock as he presses a thumb over the leaking tip. You part your thighs further, giving him more than enough space to settle between your legs. You think your brain has shut down the moment Bachira drags himself along your soaking folds—you feel the small bump of his protruding vein as it brushes your clit. 

“Meguru please—!” you cried, losing your (very little) self control as you held his wrist. Your cunt clenching at the sight of his sweat slicked abs and the clear precum shining on his tip. 

Bachira raises a brow, “didn’t I tell you to not be hasty?” he questions through a smile. 

When he enters you, you feel weird, there is an odd stretch that your walls aren’t used to. Not that you’re complaining, but fuck, his cock feels so good dragging along your tight walls. Your jaw is slacked from the curve of his cock as he kisses your g-spot repeatedly. 

Shit, it’s alien to you. It’s something you’ve never thought that you’ll experience, albeit all those videos that talk about how bad men are at finding your g-spot…they’ve become nothing but lies to you, because Bachira Meguru’s cock is stimulating that certain spot that has you seeing the stars inside his fucking car.

On another point of view, Bachira is so fucking sure that you’ve fucked yourself on something as big as him. To be specific, a pink jelly dildo that he always sees in those stupid porn pop us. Oh you definitely have done that, because a virgin like you wouldn’t be this good at handling cock on your first time. 

“Are you really a virgin?” He huffs out his question through his heavy breathing. 

Your gaze is weak as you struggle to hold eye contact, “I am—!” Your choked out answer is convincing, so he chortles lightly—taking your left ankle and pushing it high until your foot is on the roof. Bachira’s pounding becomes heavier, speedy as well; he brings his right hand to slap your boob, laughing at the small yelp, then he presses his thumb over your clit. He watches the way your eyes cross briefly before you screw them tightly, biting your lip as though you’d be able to muffle out your moans. 

A virgin and innocent pussy doesn’t suck cock this greedily on a first time. Maybe you’ve lost your virginity to your dildo, honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised. 

“I wonder what toys you’re hiding.” You hear him giggle, his voice is nothing but a whisper in the back of your head as you’re too wrecked from all this warmth that’s building up in you. 

His hips snap into you harshly as he watches the way you break your back into an arch when he circles your clit. 

“Butt plugs, maybe?” He snickers, “are you even brave enough for those?” Bachira tilts his head to the side, he uses your calf to wipe the sweat from his cheek before he bites you—moaning against your leg when your pussy flutters on him, squeezing him harshly until his hips stammer with each roll.

“I have…those,” you manage to stutter out through your whimpers. “I tried—one time, it hurt so much.”

Your blurry eyes caught the manic grin on his face as he spoke, “you really are a dirty girl in secret, aren’t you?” he murmurs, there is a menacing glint in his tone. 

Bachira can’t wait to finish this round so he can go for another, and another, and another—until your body breaks from being folded into every position you never thought you'd be in. And he certainly can’t wait to teach you all the things he can do to your body.

©kenruu

If something doesn’t make sense, keep your mouth shut or I’ll blow my brains out. 😞‼️

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

---

AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 6) (18+)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER SIX. armin's first

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: Things get heated. Things get so, so heated.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: smut (p in v sex, fingering), fem bodied reader, loss of virginity, petting, literally most of this is foreplay

wc: 9.7k

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

In the dim of your living room, your eyes could only see him. And right here, on the plush of your couch, your body only knew his. 

Armin held you, secured you, and grounded you, strong arms snaked around your waist as you became all too aware of your intermingling bodies. The squish of your thighs against his, the unashamed press of your tits against his chest, the weight of his breaths against your lips…

You could still feel the tingle on your lips where he’d last kissed you, a ghost of his touch. 

Above you, the clock ticked louder and louder in your ears, louder than the blood that rushed to muffle your hearing and the pounding of your pulse, a looming reminder that it was late. That you had work in the morning. That you were running out of time. 

That you shouldn’t be doing this.

Another sound intruded on you. A voice, his voice, running rampant in the back of your head.

Will your roommate be home soon?

The fact that he’d asked that question…just what did he want?

And on top of that, you had already confirmed that, no, your roommate wasn’t going to be home any time soon. In fact, she wasn’t going to be home at all, meaning you’d have the entire night with him alone, undisturbed. 

Sitting here, Armin quietly eyed you, curious and content yet half-lidded and torn by lust. He suddenly silenced your thoughts with a kiss, swooping in hard, teeth clashing, causing you to instinctively grab his face to ease him down. 

The kiss oozed of messiness, an exchange of saliva and wet, meshed-together lips that barely held any rhythm. The feeling consumed you fully—the warmth and fervent press of his lips—as you slowly guided him. 

Lost in the intensity, you instinctively swiped your tongue against his bottom lip. He jolted, pulling away. 

You thought that was so cute of him, seeing him like this. So ironically innocent.

“S—sorry,” he stuttered out, a bashful look on his face. 

Your brows furrowed, worried that you had done something wrong. “Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s just….” He tightened his grip on your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “God, I’m so nervous.”

Squeezing your hands on his shoulders, you reassured him, “It’s okay. We can go slow.” 

“Okay.”

Armin smiled up at you, so sweetly and boyishly—so contradictory to the thoughts you’d been having about him. But even so, he was still nothing like the little boy you’d known. Not when he was gazing at you with that blush, reddened and far-gone, and that glint of lust—that hunger—in his eyes. 

You still couldn’t believe he was here with you. If you’d known you’d be kissing your childhood friend ten years down the line, you’d probably flip out in disbelief. 

But he’d matured so much from then. That boy was nothing like the man under you, holding onto you. Nothing like how tempting and alluring and irresistible he looked right now. 

His palms flexed around your waist, once, then twice, then dragged up the sides of your torso, slowly, almost mindlessly, then back down. Pressed up like this, chest-to-chest, you could feel the racing of his heart so hard that you felt yourself rattling. And even though his hands had stopped shaking, the fast, repetitive thump inside his chest told you more than anything else ever would. 

Sitting in silence, hearts beating out of sync, you let him roam your body like that. Slowly and hesitantly, like he hadn’t quite fully grasped the situation. 

"You're a good friend,” he mumbled quietly, no longer meeting your eyes, fixated on where he was touching you instead. 

Cheeks heating up at the praise, you shuddered with a laugh that sounded a little too strained and nervous. 

You were a good friend? No, he was a good friend. He was the whole reason you wanted to do this in the first place. A good, caring, considerate friend that you would never turn down even if it meant putting your friendship on the line. 

“I trust you. I wouldn’t ask anyone else this,” he continued. 

Breathing in deep, you cupped his face affectionately. “No, please, you’re so good to me. How can I say no to you?” 

His hands stilled, and you could see how his eyes instantly softened. Armin’s right hand fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eyes meeting yours momentarily before darting away. 

“Thank you. So…can we keep going?” 

Your lips lifted into a small smile, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his eagerness. “Yeah, um. Do you…want to try using tongue now?”

As soon as you’d finished that sentence, you fought down the nervous, embarrassed lump that rose to your throat. It couldn’t get any more straightforward than that. 

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly and nodded.

“Slowly, okay? We’re just gonna ease into it. When I lick your lips, open your mouth a little. And then after that, it’s like…” You swallowed, tensing. “Um, I don’t really know how to explain it. Just try to match me.” 

He gazed at you with so much anticipation that you could almost taste it. Sliding your hands back onto his shoulders, you latched onto his lips again. 

This time, there wasn’t a rush. Just slow, methodical, and relaxed movement as you relished the softness of his lips. You loved this feeling. Soft and sweet, like him. 

His hands began roaming your body again, starting from the sides of your chest down to the tops of your thighs. His palms slightly brushed the outer parts of your breasts, but it was still nowhere close to where you really wanted him.

You took this as a cue to mimic him, hands gliding down to his biceps where you gave him a light squeeze. Even though you knew he worked out, you were still surprised to feel the dips and tautness of hard muscle. It wasn’t that you forgot, it was that you didn’t normally expect it from Armin, someone usually so nice and mellow. 

As you trailed down his stomach, you could feel the defined ridges of his abs under your splayed palms, and you swore you almost moaned. For someone with such a cute face, he had such a strong body. 

When your tongue finally soothed over his bottom lip, he parted his lips ever-so-slightly. And the moment you slipped your tongue in, he let out a small noise that was so, so quiet. Your tongues met, warm and wet. 

You could tell he was hesitant, but you continued at the same pace, slowly licking into him and swiping your tongue over his. He’d completely stilled, hands etching themselves harder into your waist. As you were letting yourself taste him, something tugged on your heart, weighing heavy. 

Because it dawned on you that you were making out with Armin. 

Something so intimate and passionate like this could only be reserved for lovers, not for friends.

Armin reluctantly slipped his hands under your shirt. Just right there, right at the threshold of your torso and not any further, like he was testing the waters. He held you there, only tasting. Your breath hitched, startled by the warmth of his fingers, but the flow of the kiss remained the same. 

The pressure of his tongue was soothing as it moved against yours, and he was getting the hang of it little by little. And the moment it seemed to click—where it felt like you’d reached the perfect rhythm and the perfect amount of energy—you moaned into his mouth to let him know he was doing good. Thank God he was a fast learner. 

Cradling his neck into your arms and threading your fingers into his hair, you rolled your hips into him experimentally, pelvises meeting. You heard him inhale sharply, but he didn’t break the kiss. He only tightened his hold on you, pushing you down slightly as he rolled his hips, matching you.

The friction felt so undeniably good. You knew he felt good, too, because you could feel the area of his crotch stiffen under you.

It was like that for a while, the two of you grinding on each other, so focused on outdoing the other that the kiss wasn’t even a kiss anymore. Just a mix of messy lips and hitched moans and saliva. So much so that you had to wipe away the drool at the corner of his mouth. 

You were the first to pull away for air. 

“How was it?” he instantly asked, licking his lips. They were swollen, and that gave you the urge to kiss him again. 

“Just a little messy. But good. You did good for your first time.” You laughed. 

He laughed with you, bringing a thumb to swipe over the corner of your mouth. “Sorry about that.” 

Just like that, the two of you shared a cute moment, and you began to think that nothing would change between you—that you two would still be friends and embrace these moments no matter what. 

As the atmosphere from your makeout session died down, you were left with one final thought. 

What now?

“Hey…” you started. You didn’t even know how to word this. Do you know where this is going? Do you even want to keep going? 

You stood up, all too abruptly like you were running on autopilot as your brain tried to catch up with your body, hands detaching from his neck and thighs from his lap. You looked at him warily, wedged between the coffee table and his parted legs.  

Armin frantically stood up, too, half hard in his pants as he reached for your forearm. “Something wrong?”

It was late, you remembered again. 

But now, in this lapse of judgment, you guessed it didn't matter if you should or shouldn't continue. Not when he was staring at you, pleading with his eyes—with his body. You could almost hear his heart thumping out of his chest.

You wondered if he could hear yours, too.

“Um,” you trailed off, wondering how to save yourself.

Before you had the chance to recollect your thoughts, Armin cut you off. “Sorry, um. I mean, I know it’s late…if that’s what you were going to say. I should probably go. You did say I should only stay for a little bit—”

“No—wait, no.” You pressed a palm to his chest. 

Armin subtly tilted his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I thought you had work in the morning?”

“I know, but...” Your eyes trailed down to his crotch, suddenly guilty. “Do you want to stay?”

He regarded you with a look of uncertainty, hands hovering beside your arms like he was about to hold you. “Yeah…?”

“Then…what do you want to do?” It came out in a slight whisper, and you instantly wanted to slap yourself for that question because, one, it was definitely the wrong question. All you wanted was clarity as to whether he knew where this was going, and two, what did you mean by what he wanted to do? 

You could feel his eyes burning into your head, but yours were averted to where the neckline of his tee dipped down to reveal his collarbone.

He gulped. “What do I want to do?” he parroted, breathing in a steady breath. “Um…what do you mean?”

You pursed your lips, knowing you were going to sound desperate. “Was kissing…all you wanted to do?” 

He looked visibly taken aback now, lashes fluttering as his eyes flitted over your form in surprise. 

“No…” 

“Then what?” 

Maybe you really were desperate as you stood here so close to him, pushing your thighs together in an attempt to quell the ache. 

“Well, I think—I think you know,” he mumbled shamefully. “Don’t make me say it.” 

“Say it. Please? I just want to be sure.”

He pursed his lips, too, while contemplating, flushed a deep pink on his cheeks. “I want us to…go the whole way. I want you.” He cleared his throat. “To teach me.”

For a long moment, you were convinced you stopped breathing. 

It was so loud now. Your heartbeat was so unbearably loud, reverberating and bursting through your ears. A breathless silence filled the room.

He didn't waver. Not once. He only gazed straight into your eyes—straight through you, irises deep and blue and overwhelming and darkened by lust. He'd lost that innocent, bright shine long ago.

The beat of your heart only quickened, even quicker than what it already was.

Was this it? Was this the next step? Was this it after all of those needy kisses and flimsy touches and longing, vulnerable stares? 

Nevertheless, a sense of relief washed over you. You wanted this, too, despite the fact that you were risking something precious to you. Something irreversible.

Not that'd you stop now. 

And then you were onto him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. He returned it just as quickly, rough and intimate. His hands slid to your waist and held you tight against his body while you clung onto him like it was the end of the world. 

Licking his lips teasingly, you murmured in between the kiss, “My room.” 

He broke away a little, muttering a little “okay” before you cut him off by pressing your mouth back onto his. 

When you pulled away, he surprised you with his next words. 

“Can I carry you?” 

Without hesitation, you lightly jumped onto him, and he caught you, carrying you effortlessly in his strong arms. You loved the feeling of his hands on the back of your thighs, firm and warm. He was so surprisingly muscly that you wanted to squeal. 

The walk wasn’t far in your small apartment space, and you quickly found yourself being placed gingerly onto your bed and your limbs untangling from his body. He stood there like he didn’t quite know what to do. You scooted back onto your pillows, beckoning him to come closer. 

“Get on top of me.” You tugged on the front of his tee. “Like this.” 

He stumbled onto your bed, settling in between your legs as his hands braced him up. You tugged him even closer still, and he fell to his forearms. 

You looked up at him only to find him blushing, a dark, rosy color tinting the apples of his cheeks, watching you with eager eyes as his chest heaved with heavy breaths.

Heat bubbled in your stomach. “Are you sure you want to do this? Remember, this is…this is for you. This is about how you feel.” 

“I’m sure,” he answered quickly. 

Then, Armin kissed you for the millionth time tonight, but this time, it was short yet thorough, like he just missed your taste. 

“Kiss me on my neck,” you urged, craning your head. “Just don’t leave any marks.”

Armin dipped down instantly, but he stilled for the next second, hesitantly staring at your neck. The conviction finally hit him and his lips met your skin, ticklish and titillating and warm. He peppered slow kisses along the juncture of your neck, leaving one long, suckling kiss—one hard enough to make you feel good but soft enough not to leave a mark. You could tell he was unsure about his movements, so you softly grabbed him by the hair to bring him to a specific spot. 

“Right—ah—there. Yeah,” you assured him as he gave another suckling kiss. 

“Is this good?” he asked timidly into your skin, and you could feel the tickle of where his lips moved. 

You hummed in response. “It’s good. You’re doing good,” you replied, words tumbling out of your mouth in an awkward way. 

He pulled away, and his eyes raked over your form, suddenly stopping at your chest. While you should’ve been excited, something else happened. Something like dismay filled his eyes as his brows twitched downwards. 

“Is this Eren’s sweater?”

Oh. 

“Yeah?” you weakly breathed out, voice pitched a higher octave than you’d like.

His eyes flitted back to your face again, still strewn with an emotion you couldn’t quite place but knew wasn’t good. 

“Can I take it off?” he asked, pawing the hem of your sweater. He seemed confident almost, but you knew that the barely discernible, nervous strain in the thrum of his voice gave it all away.

You nodded wordlessly like the air had been punched out of your lungs.

Armin grabbed onto the hem of your sweater with both hands, peeling it off you so slowly that you couldn’t tell if he was teasing you or just simply nervous. Your stomach coiled in anticipation the farther he went, with each inch of skin he revealed. He was so agonizingly slow—or maybe you were so impatient that it felt like time had slowed down—yet the rush of cool air against your torso was instant. 

The moment he reached your bra, your heart seemed to beat out of your chest, and you needed to steady your breathing. 

He stopped and looked for only a minuscule second, as if he didn’t dare to stare any longer, and picked up the pace, pushing the last of your sweater above your raised arms. 

“Pants, too,” you whispered softly. 

With shaky hands, Armin obediently worked them off, past the fabric of your panties, all the way down your legs. 

He’d seen you in a bikini before, but it was different this time. You were laid out all nicely in front of him, clad in a bra and thin panties. On your bed, for him. 

The newfound cold nipped everywhere at your skin, goosebumps prodding up your arms and legs. 

“Take my bra off for me.” You said shakily, turning to your side to give him access. “You know how?” 

He laughed out what seemed to be a mix of a chuckle and a scoff. “I’m sure it isn’t hard.” His knuckles brushed the skin of your back as he took hold of the straps and unclasped your bra. You could feel his hands shaking against your back. “Easy.” 

As he slid it off of you, that heavy feeling in your heart resurfaced, and you began to feel self-conscious.

But it was just Armin, you reminded yourself. 

Your upper body was now completely bare to him. The cool of the air swept over your already-hardening nipples. 

Armin only stared at you. Didn’t say a word. Just outright ogled you with raw, unfiltered desire in his eyes as his hands twitched where they were resting near his thighs. 

You grabbed both of his hands, placing his palms directly on your chest. “C’mon. Touch me.”

Gulping hard, he leaned into you, broad, unpracticed hands cupping your tits, squeezing just once. Then his hands started moving, experimentally pushing and squeezing over the plush of your tits, palms grazing over the peaks of your pebbled nipples. 

You clamped your eyes shut, letting yourself go for the moment. It felt so pleasant, just steady friction against your sensitive breasts. 

Armin’s hands were soft—that much you already knew—just as everything else was about him. But while his hands were soft and gentle, his gaze was hard. He was so fixed and focused on you, blue eyes practically dripping with unbridled lust. 

He cupped your tits again, a soft nudge, then his hands slid down the curve of your waist. You could feel the trail of warmth that his fingers left on your skin. It clung to you even as his hands moved away to rest on your abdomen. His thumbs pressed into your skin so briefly that his touch might’ve been a spasm of a finger as the bottoms of his palms grazed against the hem of your panties. 

The warmth followed down the curve of your hips, down your thighs, and down to your knees. You shifted your legs closer to your body, and his hands quickly cupped the underside of your thighs, squeezing once. 

You knew this was his first time, so you let him explore your body as your hand came to his cheek to pull him down for another kiss. His tongue prodded at your lips, and you happily welcomed it. 

His hands were everywhere now—your thighs, your hips, your waist, your shoulders, your neck, your arms. You could tell he was losing rhythm between keeping up with the kiss and touching you, but you couldn’t care less. 

He pulled away first, leaving a string of saliva hanging between your lips. 

“Armin, play with my….” The embarrassment hit you again. You didn’t even want to finish your sentence, but luckily, he seemed to understand. 

“Oh.” His fingers found your tits again, thumbs swiping over your nipples before he lightly pinched them, tugging them upwards. “Like this?” 

You gasped and squirmed. “Yeah. Like that. Just very lightly. Try rolling them between your fingers.” 

His thumb and index finger met with your nipples, and he did what you told him, twisting and rolling your nipples between his fingers. 

That elicited a little whine from you. “Feels nice.” 

Armin continued his ministrations on you as he alternated between tweaking your nipples and groping your tits whole. It was sensual and quiet, save for the sound of your soft moans.

He suddenly sighed, eyes clouded. “You’re so pretty,” he whispered softly and fondly.  

You didn’t answer. Instead, you smiled at him and let your cheeks heat up from his compliment. It caught you off guard. Because somehow, in a suggestive moment like this, he managed to make it sweet. Judging from the tone of his voice, you knew it was genuine. 

Because he was a genuine guy.

You cupped the back of his head and pushed him toward your chest. “Put your mouth here.” 

He doubled back, eyes wide, but didn’t waste another second to envelop his lips onto your chest. He followed your orders so easily—like a dog to its owner—that you couldn’t help but chuckle at the charm of it. 

For a second, you wondered if he needed guidance, but when his tongue laved over your breast, you only held his head tighter as your back arched off the bed in pleasure. His eyelids fluttered shut, feathery, blonde lashes resting against his cheekbones. He kissed your nipple just as he kissed you, licking and sucking meticulously and thoroughly. 

One of the things that you liked about Armin was that he was such an adaptable learner. Took things he learned and applied them somewhere else. Not that any of this required any big skill, but he just did it so well and so quickly. 

You grabbed his hand and brought it to your other nipple, and he quickly understood, playing with you like he did before.

Suddenly, his teeth took hold of your nipple—just a light graze, and you gasped again. You felt the ache between your thighs throb, shamelessly getting wetter. Where did he learn to do that? 

“Okay, that’s—that’s good.” You tapped his cheek. “Over here now.” 

His mouth unlatched with a pop and he switched to the other breast, repeating the same routine. You felt the remnants of his saliva on your skin mix with the cool air, tingling. 

You were sure your panties were drenched now. Sure that the arousal made the fabric stick to you. 

Armin pulled away, licking the spit from his lips, and looked right into your eyes. “Was that okay?” he asked innocently. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, but you were convinced it came out more as a whine. You clutched a handful of the fabric of his tee. “Off.” 

He sat up straighter, surprised but willing. “Off? Okay, okay.” Armin reached behind him to grab the collar of his T-shirt, and in one swift yank, it came off. He threw his shirt on the floor like the rest of your clothes, and you were left to ogle at his body. 

Your eyes raked over the smooth planes of his chest, his slim waist, and the hard, toned stomach where your hands had previously felt. 

Even at pools and beaches, he opted for T-shirts with his swim trunks. And the last time you’d seen him shirtless, he wasn’t this jacked. 

“I never get to see you like this. You’re so—you’re so built.” The fluster was so evident in your voice as you trailed your fingers down his torso. 

He shyly laughed, pink on his cheeks. “Thank you.” 

“You’re so pretty, Armin.” Before the embarrassment and weight of your compliment caught up to you, you quickly grabbed the hem of his jeans. “Take—take this off, too.” 

You eyed the bulge beneath his pants, hard and begging to be freed. 

You gulped. Now you two were really getting into it—seeing and doing something so intimate. You had no problem undressing yourself, but when it came to him…

He nodded as his hands fumbled with the button and zipper, thumbs slotted in between his waistband as he shakily pulled them down. You helped him get them off, anticipation and nervousness coursing through your veins. 

Once his jeans were off, he seemed even bigger now. You could see the clear outline of his dick straining against his boxers, and it was messing with your head. This was your best friend, for crying out loud. Both of your most intimate places were each just a layer away, just inches away. 

“Fuck, I’m so—” His eyes scanned over you, from the eager expression on your face, to your bare tits, and to your legs that were spread to accommodate him. “You don’t know how hard I am right now.” 

You gulped again. “Yeah?” you teased, palming him through his boxers. 

He sharply inhaled and cursed low under his breath, but before you could go any further, he grabbed your wrist. There was a look of worry on his face—maybe it was desperation, you thought—and you wondered if you did something wrong.

“W—wait. I want to know how to make you feel good.” 

Your face morphed into one of surprise. Armin wanted to please you first. 

You felt the arousal creeping up on you. Felt it soaking your panties again. 

You breathed out slowly, and for a second, the words died on your tongue. He was going to see you fully naked. Only a flimsy piece of fabric away from erasing the line between your friendship and this…whatever this was. 

“Yeah, that’s good. Wanting to please your partner first, that is.” You regained your footing. “Help me take them off?” You eyed him innocently and pulled his hands towards your body until his knuckles touched your panties. 

He stared for a moment—definitely at the wet, darkened patch over your crotch. Armin finally took hold of the hem of your panties, fingers hot against the skin of your pelvis. Unblinking, he pulled them down gently, agonizingly slow. You could feel your slick sticking to your panties and the fabric grazing your almost quivering thighs. In an instant, cool air rushed to you. 

His eyes never left you as he pulled your panties past your knees and ankles, so fixated and eager that he made you nervous. The coil in your stomach returned, tense, like it was moments away from bursting. 

You felt like a virgin all over again. You were embarrassed—even though you knew you shouldn’t be because it was just Armin—and on the brink of clamping your legs together, but you couldn’t because his body was right in between you, even closer than you’d noticed before. 

“God, you’re so…” Armin gulped. He was quiet, muttering to himself, struggling to find his words, and nervously pushing his hair back. It fell back messily onto his forehead. “What do I…what do I do now?” 

Clutching his hand between both of your palms, you shaped his hand into a “thumbs up” sign and brought it to your slit, spreading yourself with one hand. “This is the clit. If you…if you didn’t already know.” 

His thumb grazed over your clit, and a twinge of pleasure shot up your lower body. 

“I know.” 

Armin thumbed your clit some more, swiping circles and pressing down lightly. You could feel yourself get wetter by the second.

“Is this good?” he asked. 

“Mhm. A little faster—oh! Yeah, that’s good.” Your hips bucked as he sped up. “You—you could also use your middle and ring finger.” 

You demonstrated with your hand, and he quickly followed, pressing his fingers onto you again. 

This time, he started off slow and worked his way to match the pace from before. 

“A little lower.” And suddenly you were arching off the bed. “Oh! Wait—”

“Am I doing it right?” he interjected, voice shaky. He was watching for your reaction, blue eyes boring into your face. 

You nodded as the pleasure spread through your lower body. He wasn’t the best, but he wasn’t bad in the slightest. He made you feel good, nonetheless. The pads of his fingers were warm and smooth, rubbing all the right ways against your clit. 

“You wanna move down now?” you asked. 

Wordlessly, his eyes flicked down to your entrance, and the urge to clamp your legs shut returned to you again. You were dripping—you had to be, slick with your wetness pooling around your center. He lingered for a second before his attention diverted back onto your face. 

“Show me how.” He said, adamant. 

“Just know that…” Your fingers ghosted over his knuckles. “You don’t have to necessarily make me cum. This is just to stretch me out. To prep for the real thing.”  

He regarded you with a tiny frown and peered at you hungrily through his long lashes. “What if I want to?” 

Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach simmered with warmth. 

“Well, you can.” You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure of what to say. Taking his hand in yours, you isolated his middle and ring fingers and held them close to your entrance. As you did so, something tingled and churned inside your stomach. Nervousness, you thought, apprehension, maybe. Not in a bad way, but in the way that every next step with him left you remembering just how private and raw this was. 

“Just like that,” you whispered. 

With a gulp, his fingers slid into your soaked cunt. You were so wet and tight, and you knew he could feel it. Feel it envelop his finger, warm and so, so slick. You instinctively clamped down on him as he pushed further. 

“Oh, God…Y-Y/N,” he all but stuttered out. “Is—is this what it…”

The desperation showed clearly on his face: lips parted, brows knitted, and eyes drooping with lust.

You grabbed his wrist. “K—Keep going.” 

His fingers reached their hilt inside of you, and you had to resist squeezing down on him. He felt like no other guy you’d been with. Because he really wasn’t any other guy. 

He pulled them out swiftly, fingers and knuckles now tainted with the remnants of you. “What—what else?” he choked out. 

The absence of his fingers left you wanting more. With your grip still on his wrist, you tugged his hand closer to your center. “Curl your fingers like this. When you’re inside.” You choked, too, and cleared your throat. “Just keep moving.”

“Like this?” He entered you again, gently, and pressed against a spot inside you that drove your hips to lurch off the bed. 

You nodded weakly, whining. “More.” Your hand on his wrist urged him out, pulling backward. Confused, he slightly resisted. But when you pushed him back in, he seemed to understand the hint.  

Armin pressed into you, thrusting his fingers in and curling them right at that sweet spot that had you gasping out. He slid in and out so easily, guided by the slickness of your insides, and worked slowly, almost teasingly, but you squeezed his arm, encouraging him.

“Right there,” you gasped out. “You’re doing so good.” 

He groaned in response, a borderline moan. “H—Here?” And curled right into your G-spot. 

You let out an abrupt gasp, akin to a stuttered breath, hips bucking upwards as pleasure seeped into your insides. His pace was reckless, but the calculated way the pads of his fingers pushed and grazed against your G-spot had your stomach twisting and your heart racing. 

Beside you, you noticed his other hand fisting the bedsheets. Reaching out, you put a hand on top of his. “You okay?” you asked breathily.

Armin glanced up at you, eyes blown out, pupils dilated in such a starved, animalistic way that looked so out of character. He surprised you by lacing his fingers between yours. 

“Can I kiss you? Please?” 

It caught you off guard, but you didn’t get to register your shock before you were crying loud with a particularly hard thrust. “Please. Please.” You didn’t know why he was even asking. 

Armin’s lips crashed onto yours, capturing you in the most heated kiss of the night. Immediately, he dominated the kiss, all spit and tongue, lips hot and molding together with a firm press. His fingers kept fucking into you relentlessly, filling the room with lewd, wet sounds. 

His other hand held yours still, squeezing once before letting go and landing on your waist. 

“Just wanna feel you,” he mumbled. 

Nodding, you strung your hands through his hair as he caressed your waist and tits. His palms grazed over your nipples, making you shudder and bite back a moan. 

The coil inside your stomach winded tight and kept winding tighter and tighter when his fingers hit that spot again. The pleasure swirled through you, wave after wave, your hips lurching off the bed and your hands gripping his hair even tighter. 

You moaned into his mouth. “So close.” 

He groaned, drawn-out, lips wet with saliva, swallowing the noises that came out of your mouth. 

“You’re doing so good,” you praised. 

Armin whimpered at that—whimpered—and picked up the pace, faster, harder. It was sloppy, but it wasn’t imprecise. He flicked up into you so perfectly until you were stretched out and dripping, and until it finally snapped. 

The coil snapped. 

“Armin, I’m—I’m cumming! Don’t stop!”

“Hol—Holy shit, Y/N—”

The coil snapped, and sweet euphoria coursed through you, rushing through you like open floodgates. You gushed onto him in the same way, cunt fluttering against the thickness of his fingers. The feeling hit you like a truck and filled you whole. 

“Can’t believe this is happening,” he mumbled under his breath in a desperate whine. 

You pulled him into a desperate kiss—or was it that he pushed the kiss onto you?—and he dipped down to embrace you. The twitching weight of his clothed cock brushed against your thigh. It wasn’t intentional—at least you didn’t think, but it only reminded you of what was to come next. 

As he slowed down, you felt your cum leaking down his knuckles and onto the bedsheets. 

“Was that…good?” Armin timidly asked between heavy breaths. Above you, he panted like a dog, even more than you, pretty pink lips parted as if he was the one being fucked. So cute. 

You stayed quiet for a moment, relishing in your subsiding orgasm, fatigued and cozy. 

“Mhm. That was amazing. You did amazing for your first time.” 

He visibly relaxed, slumped back onto his heels, and sighed. “Really? Th—Thank you.” 

Even from above you, he looked submissive, face filled with a desperate need. You giggled at his shyness. The irony of it. “Yes, Armin, you…you just made me cum. That’s…”

Uncertainty weighed down on your tongue. Impressive? Was it really impressive, or should it have been expected from him? A part of you knew that he didn’t need any effort. Not because he was somehow a natural or that he was a fast learner, but that it was him, and that gives your body enough stimulation to push itself off the edge. 

Hazy and blinded by your orgasm and the strong presence between your legs, you stopped yourself from dwelling on it any further.

“Y/N, what do I do with this…?” He lifted his hand, still slicked with your fluids. His middle and ring fingers parted further, and your shiny, milky cum stretched between his fingers. The sight almost made you gape, such a contrast to the curiosity and genuine concern brimming in his eyes. 

“Taste it.”

He sent you a look so incredulous and so quick, those blue eyes widened to the depths as if your suggestion meant total absurdity. “Taste it?”

“Taste it. It’s hot when men do that. Or, you could also make the girl taste it,” you pushed, rising from your spot. You grabbed his wrist, leading it closer to his mouth. 

He hesitated and tensed, but when his eyes met yours, you only leaned in, urging him with a look in your eyes. He complied quietly and stuck out his tongue. 

The sight was lewd. His face reddened impossibly more, up to the tips of his ears, as his mouth engulfed his two fingers wholly. He crinkled his nose so subtly that you couldn’t tell what ran through his mind. He tasted your fluids on his tongue, sucked it for a second, then swallowed. 

Armin’s fingers slid out with a little pop, and you didn’t waste another moment to cup his face and pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself when you pressed your tongue against his. He moaned at the sudden intrusion but melted into you easily. You could already feel his improvement as he reciprocated your energy and licked your mouth so nicely that the naturalness of it baffled you. 

A passing thought in your head told you that this might’ve been too much for his first time, but when he dragged his clothed dick against your clit, you knew he enjoyed this as much as you did. You both shivered a little from the contact, prompting him to pull away.

“So…” he started, voice tiny and breathless. “What’s next?” But the way his eyes darted to your bare, leaking pussy and then to the bulge in his boxers suggested he knew exactly what came next. 

You looked, too. Looked at the tight fit of his boxers on his bulging cock. Something about it—the unexpected size of him—made you giddy. Swelled your stomach with an indescribable weirdness. 

“Take your boxers off.” Though you asked him, you couldn’t stop yourself from sneaking your hands to his hips and taking hold of the waistband. “Can I?” 

He nodded hurriedly and gulped, tension and desperation etched on his face. 

You pulled his boxers down, and with a little lift from his hips, you got them down to his strong thighs. Immediately, his cock sprung up against his abdomen, leaking precum that beaded down his red, aching tip. You licked your lips and gulped involuntarily at the sight because he was just so…

“Big…” you whispered softly. 

“What?” He sounded out of it, like his question hadn’t carried any weight, rubbing a palm over his eyelids and pushing it into his hair. Like he couldn’t believe his eyes. An unspoken awkwardness filled the air as Armin removed his boxers completely. “Is—Is something wrong?” 

He sat in front of you, naked in his entirety. Broad, smooth chest, taut, defined abs, muscly arms, thick thighs, and the softest, sweetest face that did not match the rock-hard, needy cock between his legs. 

“Armin, I…I didn’t know you were so…big.” 

He sputtered out, “W—What? I’m—I’m really not.”

He looked so nervous, so unsure. So sweet and so submissive. Instead of answering him, you wrapped both hands around his dick, lightly squeezed, and swiped a thumb over the slit where his precum spilled. You spread it down his shaft, wetting him with his own fluids. 

“Agh…fuck…” he groaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. When you started jerking your hands up and down the length of his dick, his head moved forward and his hands came to cup your face. His hips bucked up with every jerk. You sensed his stare, but you were too occupied playing with his pretty dick.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented quietly. He gulped so hard you heard the small breath that followed after. “I wish you could see how you look right now.” 

“Yeah?” you teased, looking up at him between your long lashes. His eyes, lidded and drooping with lust, scanned your body, from your face to where your legs parted and revealed your slit. 

“I don’t think you understand how pretty you are to me.” He inhaled sharply and brought a hand to squeeze the area where his shaft met his head, right over where your hand rested. “I could just cum looking at you.” 

You didn’t expect that from him. He was just so obscenely honest, wasn’t he?

“Y/N.” He suddenly stopped you with a hand on your shoulder. “I think—I think that’s good…don’t wanna take the spotlight. I’m here to please you.” 

Your chest warmed at his words, and you fought down the urge to continue pleasing him to release your hands. 

“O—Okay,” you stuttered out, gulping and shivering all in one breath. Your body moved on its own and reached for your nightstand. Deep in the last drawer, stashed behind all of your cluttered knick-knacks, sat an unopened box of condoms. Three, actually.

Shakily, under his watchful gaze, you tore apart a box and unveiled a singular, foiled package. 

"Oh, you have a lot." He stared in mild disbelief, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth, eyes crinkling. If you knew any better, you'd think he was smirking under there.

“It's not what it looks like! Sasha gifted it to me as a gag gift. I haven't done anything in a while,” you quickly defended, trailing off quietly at the end. 

He didn’t respond, eyes fixed on the package between your fingers. The air held still, deathly silent beside the sounds of the crinkling wrapper. He had a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, very lightly squeezing. 

“You know how to put on a condom?” you finally spoke up. 

“I think so.” He nodded. 

“Want to do it?” 

He hesitated, and you caught the exact moment an idea clicked in his head. “No. Want you to do it.” 

Something about that riled you up. Something about him watching you. Something about your dainty hands near his aching, needy cock, too impure for the likes of him. 

He whimpered when you started sliding the condom down the length of his cock. The sweet sound of it rang through your ears. Made your heart lurch and your stomach heavy. When you finished, your head lifted to look him in the eyes. His cheeks were flushed so pink you wanted to kiss the color off of them. 

“Ready?” You ignored the way your voice shook, borderline a stutter, and circled your arms around his neck. 

“Yes. Please,” he whined. He was speaking with his eyes—begging with his eyes.

In one fell swoop, you both clambered down onto the sheets. And in this moment, when your eyes met his in a sweet remembrance, it felt like time had stopped, and all the anticipation you’d ever felt plummeted back into the pit of your stomach and built back up all over again. 

He loomed above you, flushed, domineering, and most importantly, nervous.

You only wanted one thing. 

"Please. Need you inside me."

He inhaled a deep, unsteady breath, holding back a whine. 

Then, you felt the tip of his dick brush against the slicked mess of your opening, and you clenched around the empty, ghostly graze. The hands on your thighs pressed into you with a little more pressure at the contact. He was shaking. His whole body was shaking.

“P—Put it in slowly, ‘kay? Don’t want to hurt the other person.” 

Armin listened, and in that final moment of anticipation, he slid in slowly, just the tip. You both gasped at the feeling. You were so, so wet and your heart beat so, so fast and his skin against your skin felt so, so right and so, so warm. The stretch had yet to creep up on you but you were already squirming under his touch. 

He pushed into you, the feeling of him inside warm and fulfilling. He let out a strained “shitttt” as his hands moved to dig into your waist even harder. Eyes squeezed shut, he seemed to lose himself in the pleasure. You could tell by his labored breaths and flushed cheeks that he already was so, so sensitive.

With a final push, he bottomed out, touching a spot deep in you, far deeper than your fingers or his fingers or any other man that had come before him. And God, were you wet. Instinctively, your pussy clenched around him. 

He hissed, pinning you down with his pelvis. “Don’t. Don’t do anything. Please, or I’m going to cum.” 

And then it hit you—that you’d finally done it. That you’d just taken Armin’s virginity. 

You had. 

Shit, you clamped down on him again, and this time, he groaned and abruptly pulled out. 

“Y/N,” he warned, voice drawn with honey. “I am not going to last,” he said, exasperated. 

“It’s okay. It’s your first time.” You placed a hand on his cheek. “Besides, you’re with me. You don’t have to worry about it.” 

He leaned into your touch, nuzzling into your hands, then gave you a small frown. 

“Then how am I supposed to make you feel good?”

“Trust me. You’ll always make me feel good.”

With a cute—yet sinful—smile and a hard swallow, he lined himself up again, hands on your thighs, and gave an experimental thrust.

You whined at the intrusion, reminded again of how he fit so perfectly. How the hardness of his cock dragged so pleasantly against the slickness of your pussy. 

And he did it again and again. Thrusted into you, albeit slowly, again and again. You’d let him intoxicate you again and again until all your body knew was the shape of his cock.

He moved deliberately, relishing every inch sheathed inside of you. He’d pull out with all the time in the world, dick coated in your wetness and eyes locked on where your bodies intertwined, and thrust back in with the most fervor and impatience.

The slowness of it, the intimacy of it—you couldn’t help but buck your hips in hopes of more. 

With soft moans, his thrusts sped up, and without a warning, you felt him fully, the whole weight of him spilling inside of you. His hands slid up to your waist as his head tipped forward. You arched your back into him in a silent plea, finding yourself yearning for his pretty lips, the knot inside of your stomach swelling with pleasure. As if he could read your mind, he drowned your lips in a feverish, hot, kiss, burning your mouth with his tongue. 

Every thrust met with the slap of skin-on-skin and the squelch of your fluids. It echoed through your bedroom walls alongside your muffled, whiny moans. You let yourself sink into the pleasure, letting him know that you felt good—that he made you feel good. 

Because truly, he did nothing wrong; it all felt so right with him. 

As he broke away from the kiss, leaving yet another string of saliva between you two, you took the chance to grab his hand. 

“Play with my body. Like here.” You placed his palm onto your breast, squeezing it with his hand underneath yours. “Or here.” You sensually dragged his hand down to your slicked-up, aching clit. 

Wordlessly, he complied, gulping down a constricted moan that bobbed his Adam’s apple. Armin rubbed your clit like you’d taught him, watching your hips wriggle under his touch.  

As a reward, you tightened around him. Oh, did you like seeing him lose composure. You liked picking him apart. You liked plucking the petals off of this innocent, little flower. And judging from his dazed, barely present expression and the hands gripping hard onto your hips, you knew he liked it too.

He whined again, and the sound rang in the air in a soft whisper. So vocal, wasn’t he?

“Don’t be afraid to make noise. I wanna know how good you feel,” you asserted through lidded eyes. 

Armin hummed a noise of confirmation, but it came out more of a moan as he juggled responding to you and recklessly pounding into you. You could tell he felt good—too good—as did you. 

The ebb and flow of pleasure swam inside you with each fill of his cock into your pussy, waiting to burst. You felt so close yet far away, but you let him experiment, toying with you, trying every angle in both erratic and deliberate ways. 

“Fuck!” you both cursed simultaneously with a perfect thrust into that spot inside of you. Your back arched off the bed unwillingly, arms clasping around his back and nails digging into his skin. 

Armin moaned oh-so-sweetly. “I’m so close!” he panted out, a borderline whine. 

“Cum for me. Please, Armin. Do it.” 

And his hips never stopped. Kept fucking hastily and sloppily into you in chase of his climax and in chase of the sweet yelps pouring out of your mouth. You spurred him on, almost able to taste his final moment. 

But the moment never came. You could hear the relentless, wet smack of your colliding bodies and the mix of low groans and hearty moans tumbling from his lips. His hips still never stopped, still chasing, still tasting. 

You couldn’t believe he lasted this long. He really did want to hold out for you, to make you feel good. 

Mewling again, you tightened your arms around his neck, the warmth scalding but the softness soothing under your fingertips. “Touch me. Please.” 

His fingers pinched your perk nipple before you could even finish your sentence. He rolled the bud around with his thumb and forefinger until he heard you moan, finally laying a palm down to squeeze your entire tit—and squeezed hard. You relished in the way his hand trailed down, slowly, to where he could swipe his fingers over your throbbing clit. 

Right now, all you knew was the shape of his cock. Heat radiated from his body and wrapped around you in a warm embrace. His breath tickled your earlobe, face hovering just above the crook of your neck. 

Oh, please, it felt so good, so intimate. Everything about this. Everything about him. 

"I love you. I love you so much,” he rasped through squeezed-shut eyes.

You looked at him wide-eyed, confused, and spellbound within the haze of lust, so out of that you believed your ears played a trick on you. It slipped out of his lips so wantonly you believed he uttered the words accidentally.

Your room suddenly felt too stuffy and a hundred more degrees hotter. A lone, oddly watchful bead of sweat rolled down your brow. 

It took him only a second of your silence before he started nervously blabbering in your ear. "Um, wait, sorry. Shit. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I got lost in the moment. I’m sorry.” 

He slowly inched away from you, but you paid no mind and pulled him back onto your lips. 

You didn’t care that, caught so deep in emotion and pleasure, he said “I love you” during sex—during his first time, no less. His first time with you. And now, after it happened, you didn’t care to warn him of that taboo. You wanted to selfishly indulge in the possibility that he’d always say it to you, regardless of who he shared his first time with. 

In your pleasurable bliss, you let yourself give in. “I love you too, Armin.”

He pulled away abruptly, your lips pulling apart with a wet click, disrupting the strange magnetism between the two of you. 

"I'm sorry,” he whispered, then kissed you full force. 

His love seeped into every pore of your body when he started thrusting into you again, full and hard and deep and starved. He didn’t spare you a chance to breathe with the way his mouth and cock engulfed you whole. 

A mixture of whines, moans, and smacks filled your bedroom once more. The pounding rhythm between your legs grew sloppier, though still unyielding and energetic. You wanted to cry out, louder than ever and let your neighbors know because everything felt so unexpectedly good. Armin. Your best friend. 

You ran your hands through his already-messed-up, blonde hair. You loved this look on him, a side of him that people never saw. Disheveled, falling apart, and...crazy.

He leaned back on his knees, still moving his hips, lust-filled eyes a dark, stormy blue that raked over your body. 

And he did something you didn't expect of him—like he let it slip, like he couldn't keep his composure anymore. 

He smirked down at you. 

But you were convinced it was a mere twitch in your delirium, disappearing when you blinked. 

His tip brushed your G-spot again, and you finally did cry out. “Right there! D—Don’t stop!” 

Armin groaned in response, choking on his words, and suddenly laved a tongue over the pulse point in your neck. “You feel—you feel so good! I can’t hold…!”

That coil in your stomach thrashed with the need to burst and taunted you with the promise of an orgasm. You felt tight all over, so constricted with pleasure and emotion and heat. 

“Y/N, you’re driving me crazy, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m—”

“M—Me, too! I’m close. Cum for me, please.”  

With one last thrust, he came, moaning loud, spilling hot cum into the condom. You felt him twitch inside you as a gradual warmth filled your insides. 

Fuck, that did it for you. You came right behind him, wrapping your legs around him tight like a vice, white-hot pleasure consuming every vein in your body. In that moment, you kissed him and clamped your eyes shut, focusing hard, your cunt squeezing down on him to wring out the last of his orgasm, fluttering and pulsing so uncontrollably hard. It was like your pussy never wanted to let him go, wanted to relish the last of that feeling of home when his cock rooted deep into your pussy. 

All the while, he spewed praises at you, some dirty, some sweet.

You couldn’t tell how long the two of you took to come down, to stop kissing, for your cunt to stop gushing, and for him to pull out—because it seemed like that moment lasted forever. Your cum coated your pelvis, his pelvis, your thighs, his thighs, and the already-soaked bedsheets.

With bated breaths and shaky hands, he pulled off the condom, tied the latex up, wrapped it in a tissue from your bedside, and threw it onto the floor where it landed among your sparsely scattered clothes. 

Armin slumped down on you, wrapping strong arms around your waist in a suffocating, hot embrace. You gladly welcomed his weight. 

It smelled of sex, sweat, and the dwindling remnants of his cologne.

You laid there, catching your breath. 

You did it. He did it. You finished taking his virginity, and he successfully made you cum during the process. 

And everything left you wondering…

Why was that…good? Sex with a virgin. Sex with your best friend. Did you even teach him enough? Because that was definitely a learning experience for you. The post-orgasm clarity hit you now like a slipper to the face, and you couldn’t wrap your head around what just happened. 

Sleepily, you broke the silence, “Good job, Armin. You did amazing. You’re attentive, a fast learner, and just already so good to me. You made me cum twice. For a virgin.” A hearty laugh parted from your throat as you strung your fingers through his mussed hair. “I guess you aren’t one anymore.”

Armin remained silent. Was he already asleep?

In the quiet darkness, your heart started beating fast, even after the sex. Laying here felt domestic, like somebody made this bed for the two of you to snuggle in tonight, like a real couple. 

Armin, face wedged between your sheets and your shoulder, hugged you impossibly tighter when he shifted to look at you. 

“Thank you. I love you, Y/N.”

He breathed those three words with so much adoration in his eyes, gazing at you longingly beneath his thick, long lashes. The blue of his eyes shone brightly even in the dim lighting and through the hair obscuring his face. 

“I really do love you,” he continued. “Not because of the sex. But because you’re a good friend. Thank you for letting me be vulnerable.”

Oh my gosh. You really didn’t deserve him. You’d exchanged your fair share of sentimental, platonic “I love you’s” to each other, but this one wrenched your heart like no other. Especially after sex. 

He left you at a loss for words. But sleep tugged at your eyelids and your mind screamed at you to clean up and your post-nut clarity still remained unresolved; you couldn’t think of a reply even if you wanted to. 

Even overwhelmed, your heart called out to him and you mustered up something. 

“I’m grateful to have you as a best friend. I love you,” you gritted out. 

Wrong. So, so wrong. Right now, this conversation was getting too emotional for a strictly physical agreement. But you didn’t lie nevertheless, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. 

Feeling grimy, you wriggle under his hold. “We should clean up. It’s good for women to pee after sex.”

As the final rip of the bandaid, he pecked you on your jaw. “I can’t.” 

Your face twisted in confusion, still clouded by tiredness and the daze of lingering thoughts. “You can’t?”

“I can’t help it,” he suddenly mumbled. 

“Armin, what are you—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when you felt something poking your thigh, stiff and hard. 

Armin groaned deep in his chest, the sound rumbling against the shell of your ear as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. 

The hands that were once wrapped around your body slowly released their hold and grabbed onto your hips, hard and impatient. Armin started rutting into your thighs, dragging you along with him. 

Your heart stuttered for a moment, in disbelief that he could keep going and that you would have to keep going, but your pussy clenched around nothing at the promise of something more.

“Can’t help it. I’m—I’m hard again.” 

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❝ ONLY A FOOL FOR YOU ❞ — ꒰ zen’in naoya ꒱

summary — after a nasty break up, you decide the best way to get over somebody is by getting under someone else.

OR — zen’in naoya is a rebound (and he's big mad about it) | wc — 6.5k

content/tw — SMUT, fuckboy!naoya, yandere!naoya, fem!reader, shy reader, introvert reader, pet names (sweetheart, 'adjective' girl, etc.), canon divergence: modern au, pwp, nsfw, size kink, degradation kink (it's naoya), praise kink, masochism, dacryphilia, impact play, chivalrous themes (or misogyny!), possessive behavior, haters to lovers (literally), oral fixation, gagging (a lot of gagging idc), anal play, squirting, creampie, a li’l bit of voyeurism, cum eating, threw in a stray daddy kink bc i am who i am — idc man this is just filth w a thin plot + greenhair!naoya supremecy!!!

a/n — honestly, this is really just me being horny on main for my no. 1 piece of shit, problematic fave (aka my actual husband) yw ♡ lmk what you think!!! comments & reblogs would be gr8 feedback ✧ ˚ · .

────✧.*

B—ZZZ, (b—zzz, b—zzz).

You gasp, head thrown back, a sharp pain tugging at your scalp that quickly bleeds into the spine-tingling pleasure you're already neck deep in, intensifying it. Your trembling hand pauses in its reach for your vibrating phone — to decline the call, choosing instead to clutch desperately at the wrinkled sheets below in search of something to ground yourself to as your senses are overwhelmed.

The heavy hand pressing down on your spine, right between stiff shoulder blades, bars you from raising up. That large palm with your hair wound tightly around it is a heady reminder of where you are— 

B—ZZZ, (b—zzz, b—zzz).

What you're doing. 

Who you're with.

B—ZZZ, (b—zzz, b—zzz).

A particularly deep thrust has the thick cock sliding into you roughly pounding at your cervix, and you keen at the feel. It's a pleasurable pain that you're gagging for now, but you know you'll be nauseated by the deep ache the sure-to-be-bruised barrier will house as a lingering reminder of your choices later.

A sigh of relief is punched out of your lungs, breaths stilted and short — you're getting light-headed without a proper moment of respite to just breathe, with the aggressive backshots you're taking when your phone stops buzzing, the caller finally giving up. 

The strong arm banded under your hips, keeping your shaking legs propped up — making sure you're presented just the way he likes: face down, ass up — flexes and suddenly your lower body's being lifted higher, forcing you to angle your back into a deeper arch for him. 

With your breasts and shoulders pinned to the bed, and your bent knees dangling several inches above the mattress, you have no choice but to let the big brute have his way with you. 

He won't leave you hanging, high and dry. No, he's intent on wringing you out, milking you for all you're worth until he's had more than his fill.

He's already made that clear if the spreading wet patch on the sheets wasn't indication enough. The way he'd had your thighs clenching around his head earlier was a pleasant surprise, the cool metal of his ear piercings on your bare skin a dizzying reminder that he wasn't the man calling your phone.

He'd seemed the selfish in bed type, when you'd spotted him staring without shame at the bar — deep green hair slicked back to show off sharp eyes, heavy chain glinting around his thick neck, and a smug look that said he knew he was a gift to humankind. 

The type of guy that got off in that way that left women feeling used and deeply unsatisfied, maybe even dirty. The kind to be chasing his own pleasure with a single-minded focus. 

His personality also left much to be desired when he'd approached you, but he was an annoyingly pretty face that dressed well — something you could work with when he wasn't talking and fucking up the vibes. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out he had to be just as easy on the eyes underneath all the thin layers of expensive, fitted clothes.

As you hurtle towards another mind-numbing orgasm while he's yet to have his first— 

Well...

That blatant fact alone has you idly reconsidering some prior misconceptions in between stuttered breaths and gasping moans.

You've been wrong about a lot of things in life, lately. 

The ringing starts back up, constant and unrelenting — like the large body towering over yours.

B—ZZZ (b—zzz, b—zzz).

"Answer," his low voice growls into your ear, broad, sweaty chest bowed over your back as sinful hips swirl tightly against the plush swell of your ass. A nip to one of your own ear piercings has you yelping, his sharp teeth tugging the jewelry before rough lips are pressing to your jaw in an open-mouthed kiss — wet and sloppy, just like the heat between your legs. "Tell him you're busy—"

B—ZZZ (b—zzz, b—zzz).

You're vaguely aware that you're babbling, eyes scrunched shut and brows furrowed in dumbstruck bliss, as he bullies your poor little cunt with his fat cock, brutal thrusts, and unrelenting pace. 

B—ZZZ (b—zzz, b—zzz).

You hadn't realized what you were saying, didn't know you were saying anything at all — nothing that could be understood, at least (or so your hazy mind thought) — until a harsh smack to your flank has you crying out in surprise, legs kicking in the air and taut arms scrambling to try to escape the searing sting. 

He keeps you pinned firmly in place, lower body lifted just high enough that he is your only true grounding source, with strong hands and even stronger arms on your body. 

You'd told him no. 

Repeatedly. 

He didn't like being told 'no', and especially not by you.

B—ZZZ (b—zzz, b—zzz).

"Tell him or I will," Naoya hisses, sharp teeth biting at your cheek, before leaning back on his knees, resting on his heels as his narrow hips and muscular thighs flex behind you — working himself deeper and deeper inside your slippery warmth, as if he hadn't already burrowed several layers under your skin with the first mind-shattering orgasm he'd given you much earlier in the night.

B—ZZZ (b—zzz, b—zzz).

You blindly reach, heated face pressed into his bedsheets to muffle your bliss-filled sobs — soaking in his masculine scent, drowning in him him him. You tap recklessly at your phone with shaky little clicks of your manicured nails against the screen until you hear a harsh intake of breath as you bring the device up to your ear.

You and the caller speak at the same time:

"—inally. You there, babygirl?"

"H-heh—ello?"

There's a sigh that sounds undeservingly relieved on the other end, and you hear the rustling of fabric in one ear and the depraved sounds of your slick and bare skin meeting Naoya's in the other. You choke back a moan when he slowly grinds his pelvis against your ass again, hips angled just right where his tip catches against that spot—

"—iss you, babe—"

"S—S’toru," you stutter, trying to tamp down the sound of your building ecstasy and push the less-appealing exasperation you feel at this happening when you're so close to another orgasm into your voice. 

You only succeed in sounding winded, the syllables of his name slurring together as Naoya releases you from his domineering hold — pulling all the way out (you ignore his amused huff at the protesting whine you have to muffle into his mattress with warm cheeks and wet lashes) and lunging forward to grab you by the waist and thigh. 

He flips you flat onto your back in an easy and rapid, fluid movement that leaves you staring, dazed and a little light-headed at the sudden change, up at his ceiling.

"You... ’kay?" Satoru asks, genuinely concerned, though his voice is thick and slow in a way that reminds you of syrup. He's been drinking. Of course he has. He wouldn't be calling you at such a late hour, otherwise. 

Not now, at least.

"Mm—hah!" you bite down on your bottom lip, eyes glossy as you stare up at Naoya in a silent plea for mercy. He declines with a dark brow raised at you before continuing his ministrations. "Mmhm."

"—hat's good. I'm... I'm glad."

Naoya's smug as he looks down his nose at you. His narrow eyes command your attention, pink lips tilted up at one corner at how well you obey, as he rubs the leaky head of his thick, ruddy cock against your clit. He's teasing you, dipping just the tip into your weeping cunt with every pass up and down your soaked folds.

The brief shallow stretch and that awful accompanying emptiness is already driving you crazy, but when he massages his sticky pre into your puffy clit — applies it right from the source — immediately after? Again and again?

You might actually have to be institutionalized.

It's taking everything in you to silence your moans and whimpers while your ex is drunkenly rambling on the other end of the call you were forced to answer. He'd be pissed if he knew. You'd never hear the end of it even though he was the one that cheated.

"I... I really miss you, baby. I know you don't want to hear it—"

Naoya gives your poor, overstimulated bundle of nerves a brief respite as he fists himself with a few quick, tight pumps to redistribute your combined fluids on his skin. 

It's a short-lived mercy, and you choke on air when he suddenly slaps his length against your cunt. He's so mean, making sure your clit takes the brunt of the impact — the swollen little nub throbbing as your damp thighs try to snap shut, but his own broad legs are keeping you spread wide open for him.

He can't help the low chuckle that escapes when you go doe-eyed at the hot, pulsating sensation of pleasure-pain coursing through your body along with your rushing blood, a forearm thrown across your flushed face as you muffle your tiny yelp into your skin.

"—am so sorry. I made a mistake. I want you back. I need—"

Your breathing hitches as Naoya furiously rubs his angry red tip against your aching clit. You can feel the slick sliding from your hole, feel where it pools beneath your ass in the growing wet patch on his expensive, wrinkled sheets. You'd be shocked if you hadn't already soaked through to his mattress.

"—wanna try again, babygirl. Please, I can't lose y—"

Naoya's lazy smirk and the slow appraisal of his eyes as they travel from your flustered expression down the length of your body — locking on to where he's coating you in his arousal as much as you are him — sends another rush of searing heat through you. 

You can't help the desperate 'please' you let out when Naoya dips into your cunt again, teasing your little hole with the promise of being split open and stretched wide wide wide on his thick—

"Yeah?" Both men breathe, one laced with surprise and the other arrogance. You don't know how to feel when the sound of their voices combined nearly has you creaming on the tip of Naoya's dick.

"Y-you'd like that?"

"You like that?"

You nod at Naoya, willing him on silently. He doesn't like that. He lets you know, loud and clear, by the way he slaps his cock against your poor little pussy again and again and again — not stopping even when your small hand shoots down between your bodies, clutching at his wrist desperately as a choked sob escapes your lips.

"Shhh—don't cry, baby. I—I'm happy, too—so ha—"

"Heh, ya cryin’?" Naoya sneers, lips curling back as he rubs his tip along your clit and slaps his cock against your cunt — rubs and slaps, rubs and slaps— "That mouth workin’ or do I need to fix it for you, hm?"

Satoru's too busy bawling and thanking you profusely (for what?) on the other line to notice another man's voice on your end.

Your pretty nails dig into the tendons along his wrist, sure to leave battle wounds he'll wear proudly (a sign of another fight won), as you take your eyes off him to glance at your phone. You're trying to mute the call when a large hand grips your chin roughly, forcing your eyes back onto Naoya's unamused face. 

He keeps your gazes locked as you feel his cock-head prod at your entrance — you can feel the corded muscles of his thighs flexing where he has your own soft legs spread on top of them — and you whine at the stretch of him sinking in, but it's not enough when he stops at just the tip. 

You try to roll your hips, using his broad thighs as leverage to grind down onto him, but he's quick to pin your lower body down with his free hand — the grip on your jaw tightening as he tuts his tongue at you. 

His deep voice is pitched low when he speaks, and you know he can feel the way your pussy clenches at the sound of it by the way he pauses — pink tongue darting out to lick at his lips before that lopsided smirk tugs at them. 

"Aht, aht—use your words, sweetheart."

Naoya takes the phone from your hand, that lazy smirk bleeding into a snide grin as he sees the call's still connected, and carelessly tosses it behind him where it lands somewhere near the foot of the bed.

Far enough away to not bother him, but still plenty close for the dumbass on the other line to get the hint.

He tries again. "Words, angel. This little cunt's not gonna fuck itself."

"It coul—AH!"

He chuckles as your spread legs kick out around him the moment he bottoms out in one mean, deep thrust. He cups a hand behind his pierced ear, tilting his head as he mocks you. "’m sorry, what was that?"

"F-fuck," you whimper, chest heaving as your eyes water. You're so full, you can feel him — like he's in your throat, he's so deep. He could choke you like this, you think. It'd be a noble way to go. Death by dick.

A manic sort of look passes over his face as he eyes where you're connected, big hand pinning you by the hip now sliding across your soft skin until he's pressing on the outline of his cock buried deep — very much visible with how he's got your body angled up for him. 

"Takin’ me so well—" he glides out of you, barely has the head kissing your entrance, before snapping his hips forward — sweat-slick skin on skin clapping — with his heavy palm never straying from where it rests on top of your womb. He grunts as he bottoms out, grinds up into you, cock nudging his hand while his fingers try to grip himself through your pliant flesh.

"The last guy never fucked you like this, huh? Didn't reach this deep?"

Sparkling tears stream down your face as you sob out your pleasure, empty little head shaking side to side as you babble — mostly incoherent nothings: s-so good, moremoremore, pl—ease! — but it's the breathless 'n-no, n–nev—never!' that he chokes out of you with a mean push down on your bulging lower abdomen as he's buried deep, tip banging on your cervix, that has him smiling like he's just happy to be here.

"Daddy knows," he soothes, rough hands groping and sliding all over your body until they're grabbing at the juncture of your knees — broad chest pressing tight against the backs of your thighs as he pushes forward, leaning his full weight onto you while shoving your legs up to rest by your ears in one motion. 

Naoya has you neatly folded, your pretty eyes rolling back when you're unable to do anything except take, and oh does he give. 

He moans right in your face with cruel satisfaction at how your sweet little cunt's sucking him in. The lewd squelching as your arousal grows at being manhandled and fucked dumb like it's nothing is such a tell, and you don't even know it. 

Your small hands are covering your face, trying to hide the deep blush spanning cheek to cheek and the obscene expressions his cock's ripping from you. Your muffled voice begs sweetly for him — so polite, too, with 'please' slipping off your tongue so easily; it must be your mantra.

You're soaking wet, flooding his thighs all the way down to his sheets with every deep push in and every slow pull out. It's all for him. Just for him. His lips curl back as he taunts you (because he's still Naoya, after all):

"Poor baby, gonna fuck you right. Don't worry. A real man's gotcha."

────✧.*

"H—hah—arder!"

Naoya pauses, a single brow cocked high, before he swings his hand forward again — warm palm aiming for that exact same spot on your ass he's been slapping relentlessly for the last few minutes now. He licks his lips, smirking at how you squeal in pain yet you keep pushing your hips back into his hand like you can't get enough.

"Harder," you whine again, a little desperate as you shift on your knees — wiggling your ass up up up at him until he has a good view of your empty little hole dripping for him, from him. "Pl—ease, f–fuck."

He obliges, what a lady thinks she wants she should get and all, with another heavy hand against your red cheek — the skin hot to the touch from the blood-rush. He's rewarded with a wanton moan sucked into your lungs.

There's already the beginnings of a bruise, in the shape of his large handprint outlined in red, forming on your tender skin.

You'll be sore for days — reminded of him anytime you sit — maybe even weeks while the bruises take their time (slow like syrup) to heal. 

Naoya swears low, almost breathless, as he watches your spasming hole push your cream out. All that just from some slaps. It makes him giddy. He catches it with the flushed tip of his throbbing cock, doesn't let even a drop go to waste when he smears it all over your puffy pussy like he's painting a pretty picture — one only he can see. 

"What a slut," he breathes, the insult nearly reverent, lining himself back up with your tight entrance, narrow eyes glued to the way your lips stretch to accommodate the wide girth of him. "Getting off on havin’ your ass all bruised up like a little whore. That what you are, huh? Whore." 

You mewl into your forearms, shaking your head side to side in vacant protest at how mean he sounds — mind blank of anything but pleasure-pain, pleasure-pain, pleasure-pain—

CRACK!

You gasp, fingers scrambling to grip the pillow ahead of you — burying your face deep — to muffle your shrill scream as Naoya begins treating your other cheek to the same, brutal smacks that has its twin aching. 

You can't help but to press back into him, riding that wave of mindless bliss with a bite, sliding your cunt further down onto his dick until he's plugging you up — balls deep — your little whines breathless and choked as he continues his assault on your soft body. 

For every stinging impact, your body jolts forward — tight walls dragging up the long length of him, stuttering in morse code around his firm heat. 

If you were more lucid, you would have noticed the way he twitches inside of you every time your walls pulsed — as if it were trying to send a message back.

For every diffusing swipe of his warm palm on your burning skin, you press backwards — the arch of your delicate spine more prominent as you bounce along his dick, drooling little pussy swallowing him up whole. 

The greedy way you fuck yourself back onto him has Naoya biting his bottom lip to keep steady when all he feels is you — your soft skin, your slippery wet warmth, the way you body gives while his takes. It has his head spinning, dizzy with lust and want.

"F—UCK," Naoya groans, deep voice rattling, head thrown back — jaw slack, as he grinds his hips flush against your fever-warm cheeks, cock digging deep to hit that spot that has you squealing out for him punctuated with breathless giggles — so stupid from how good he's fucking you. 

He hits that same spot over and over and over again, your hitching cries spurring him on like music to his ears. "T-take it—j-just like that—HAH, fuck. Fuck. Y’look so good like this."

He grips your bruised ass, using his red handprints as a guide, and spreads you open — sharp eyes glazing as he watches the way his cock grows creamier, whiter at the base, with every harsh thrust into your puffy cunt. 

He licks his lips, eyes flickering up a fraction to your puckered little hole — a feral grin forming at how lonely it looks, empty and wanting. 

It winks up at him — tiny thing just asking for it, he swears.

He shifts a hand along your plush ass, thumbing at where the two of you are connected in a lewd display — moaning at the feel of his firm length splitting your pliant little body open, collecting your combined fluids with back and forth swipes along your stuffed seam until his thumb is positively dripping.

He hums, the growing pitch of your little whines, soft giggles, and breathless moans egging him on, and he keeps your cheeks spread wide as he rubs his coated thumb along your tight little ring. You suck in a sharp breath, puckered hole spasming at the sudden attention, and he gives you no time to protest as he presses the tip of his biggest, thickest finger against your rim until it yields — working more in until he's got it notched deep, down to the knuckle. 

That's all it takes, really, to have you creaming his cock — tight little walls clenching around him until it gets a touch too snug for him to move properly. 

He settles for grinding his hips in a tight seal against yours, swirling his dick around and churning your insides until you're a babbling, drooling mess under him at the overstimulation as he makes you ride out your orgasm with more pleasure. 

You'd said harder, begged for more (even said please), and who was he to deny a woman? He was a gentleman, after all. Raised proper. 

He uses his thumb in your ass and his cock in your cunt to keep your hips propped up, hunching over you to shove two fingers deep into your open mouth — laughing meanly when you gag on your moan as he tries to reach down your throat. 

He noses along your neck and jawline, humming in contentment when your spit-slick lips wrap around his thick fingers — little tongue curling around them as your cheeks hollow out on a suck.

"Good girl," Naoya coos, and then he's the one choking — a low swear stuck in his throat — at how your still-spasming pussy and ass clench tightly around him at the praise. 

He breaks the seal of your lips, grinning at the amount of spit already leaking out and down your chin, to hook your jaw below your tongue. He hisses as he rises back up, tall on his knees as his hips and thighs flex. 

His fingers are occupying every hole his dick can't, and it's still not enough for him.

Naoya drags you up by the mouth, narrow shoulders against his pecs as you keep that delicious arch for him — poor thing still trying to run from the pleasure you were begging for earlier. He shifts the thumb in your puckered hole, swiveling it around until he can get a better grasp on your ass cheek. 

He uses that new grip to pull you further onto his cock, long fingers pushing down your throat to gag you when you scream and try to scramble off of him as his cock-head nudges deep deep deep—

"Gonna gush on my cock, too, pretty thing?" His voice is gruff, breath warm against the cool metal of your ear piercings. You can't answer with the way he fucks the very breath you need out of your lungs with each slow, deep thrust upwards. "Wanna wash all that cream down these heavy balls, huh? You gonna clean me up after I fill you full, little girl?"

You gag yourself on his fingers as you try to nod your head eagerly, tears spilling down your face as he tickles the back of your throat, drool dripping from your chin and down to your bite mark covered tits. 

"Mmph—mm–mmhm!" is the best you can give him.

He'll take it.

And your womb.

He hooks his fingers under your tongue again, letting your gasping, broken cries ring out into his bedroom as he pummels your pussy with reckless abandon. He wiggles his thumb every now and then for good measure; he doesn't want you forgetting that he's everywhere inside of you right now. He feels his balls tighten and he grunts, sharp teeth biting down on the juncture of your neck as he presses in deep one last time—

"O-oh! Oh f-f—uck!" You squeal as your thighs shake violently, spread wide around his own, his hips grinding up into you as he cums inside — cock pressing hard and deep into that one spot that has your vision whiting out as you gush around him, soaking his lap and the sheets directly below.

"Good girl," Naoya praises, voice deep on a groan, head tossed back.

Your own head falls back along his sternum as breathless, satisfied giggles spill from your lips, basking in the buzzing afterglow of such an intense orgasm, before you're back to sucking languidly around his long fingers until he pulls them free. 

You don't have time to whine at the loss when he's nudging your chin up to catch your mouth with his own.

It's a wet and messy kiss, lips moving and tongues lapping until you're gasping for air — tugging his hungry mouth away from yours with a harsh yank of his hair. He hums, licking his lips, eyes hooded low and cheeks flushed as he looks down at you. 

He maintains eye contact as he slowly pulls his thumb free, kissing the furrow of your brows as you wince at the sting and sudden emptiness. He kneads your tender ass, as if in apology, before pressing you forward with a hand between your shoulders. You gasp when he pulls out, still half-hard, at the rush of fluid leaking from your stretched hole.

He tsks, spit-soaked fingers swiping along your drenched folds to scoop his cum — rough pads shoving it all back deep inside of your warmth in a way that has you breathless and feeling hot all over again. He doesn't stop until he's satisfied, patting your glazed, swollen cunt softly once he's done. 

Curious as to what he'll do next, you tip your head over your shoulder just in time to watch him suck his fingers clean, tongue lapping between the webbing to catch what wouldn't fit in his mouth.

You swear weakly, doe eyes glossy, at the sight. He smirks, wiggling the two glistening fingers at you in a little wave.

"Don't be jealous, I have something else for you t’ suck on."

The way his muscular arm draws your eyes — bulging bicep flexing, forearms vascular with such an intense pump — to where his hand grips at the wide base of his cock coated in your cream and his seed has you swallowing down the pool of saliva in your mouth. 

He beckons with those same two fingers crooking at you, eyes heavy with satisfaction.

"Come clean daddy up."

You're quick to listen, shuffling around in a tangle of lethargic limbs and damp sheets to crawl over and rest between his knees. He laughs at your eagerness, smoothing your sweat-damp hair away from your face, collecting it all into a nice tail to grip in one hand.

He hisses, a bit sensitive but enjoying himself nontheless, as you kitten lick at his slit — collecting most of the mess with a curl of your little tongue around his tip. 

Your lips wrap around him — just the tip, of course (you're a mean one, too) — and you suck his head clean, only popping off with a wet sound once it's shiny with your spit.

You hum in delight, small fist pumping along his re-inflated shaft, at the sinful taste of your combined orgasms, an idle part of you thinking how you could easily get used to the salty sweet tang. 

You lick a thick stripe clean from the base of his length up to the tip, following the pulsing vein all the way, and playfully show Naoya your cum-coated tongue before you swallow it down. 

His clenched jaw drops with a deep groan, hand full of hair tugging your head back — narrow eyes flaring as you moan at the sting on your scalp, glassy eyes slipping shut as you savor—

Your eyes snap open in surprise when he spits into your open mouth, warm and wet, with no warning. 

Your lips snap shut, throat constricting on a swallow out of instinct, before he can even command it. 

That seems to please him because he hums, low and almost like a big cat purring, with a stupid, self-satisfied smile on his pink face. The hand holding your hair tightens as his cock bobs, abs flexing, in a dead giveaway to how much he had liked that.

You're about to suck him down when something catches your attention, a small frown tugging at your lips as you glance over towards the foot of the bed. 

Your phone's laying in the tangle of sheets, black screen up. There's a persistent hum, like a bug flying around your head, that sounds loud in the sudden quiet.

Your skin prickles with uneasy awareness though your mind's much too fucked out to focus on what that might mean. 

Were you actually hearing your ex's voice or were you just having auditory hallucinations from the lack of blood-flow to your brain? 

You're not all that sure, and you can't really bring yourself to care too much either when you've got such a pretty cock standing at full mast, waiting to be laved clean with your naughty little mouth right in front of you.

Taking Satoru's call while Naoya was working himself balls deep into you had been risky, but you'd made it to the other side with multiple screaming orgasms, shaking legs and eyes wet with tears of pure bliss — a simple, novel shift in your life that has you grateful for the man before you, even if he was a jackass.

(All Satoru made you do these days was cry sad tears. No orgasms to compensate.)

The least you can do is thank the man that made it all possible to see the light at the end of the tunnel again, and what better way than the one he asked for?

Naoya notices where your attention has shifted to and scowls, handful of hair tugging you back to reality — back to him — with a sharp pull.

"Let daddy see what that mouth can do," he coaxes, guiding your head back to his neglected length with sudden urgency. He has your face nearly pressed against where your combined spend has been slowly dripping down to his balls. 

You smile to yourself at the needy tone lacing his words, how his deep voice strains with want. He's been so good to you, giving you everything you asked for and more. It's about time you reciprocate.

Naoya chokes, hand dropping the length of your hair to roughly grip at your scalp, pushing you down further as you lap up the thickening fluid on his heavy balls. He swears when you suck one into your mouth, tongue massaging it as your lips keep it hostage. 

You alternate, cleaning the other one until you're just playing with them for fun while your small hands work in tandem — one stroking along his length and one fondling the twin that isn't in your mouth.

"Fuck—f–fuck, that's... good. Feels s’go—od."

The way you hum happily around his sac, starry little doe eyes looking up at the pinched expression on his face — his brows furrowed, mouth gone slack, sharp eyes squeezed shut — has a broken keen coming out of him.

His dick's pulsing in your hand with every twisting stroke, and you know Naoya's close to busting again with the way his balls have started to tighten with your attention. 

He might like edging himself, you think, when he yanks you up by the hair to press a filthy kiss against your swollen lips — tongue shoving in to tangle with yours when your mouth parts on a startled gasp. 

Naoya moans into the kiss at the taste of you both on your tongue, and he doesn't pull away until you're both light-headed and panting. A long, shiny string of spit connects you until his tongue lashes out and snaps it, grinning down at you after swallowing what he caught.

"Gonna let me fuck that throat or what?"

He drags you along with him, arm hooking you by the waist, up to the top of the bed where he reclines against the headboard. Naoya's muscular legs are spread lazily for you — so you can slot yourself in close — offering you ample room to work with and make yourself comfortable. 

His cock stands proud, thick and flushed — the fat tip glossy with pre oozing out in anticipation. It bobs, briefly slapping up against his stomach, as you slowly crawl on all fours towards him looking dazed yet determined — all heart eyes as you focus on the way his tip glistens in the dim light.

You kneel before Naoya like you're at an altar, bowing your head low to lap at his gooey slit, the beginning of your prayer to him.

Naoya eyes your phone with a cheshire smile while you choke down his length, his big thumb brushing the pretty little tears from your lash line as he coos down at you — his gentle tone contrasting his crude choice of words:

"Such a hungry little slut, aren't you? ’s a good thing daddy's got so much t’ feed you, huh."

He knows it's only a matter of time before you notice the screaming that's starting to filter through the receiver as the man's volume increases. 

He tangles his long, thick fingers into your hair — holding your head still as he fucks up into your mouth in a move that has you gagging violently, your throat constricting around his cock in a way that has him sucking in air through his teeth.

"Greedy baby," he jeers when he tries to drag you up, but you whine in protest. Your flushed cheeks hollow on a vicious suck that keeps your glossy, swollen lips wrapped tightly around the width of him. "Can't even go a second without this fat cock in one of your holes."

"WHO THE FU—" 

Naoya's chuckle drowns out Satoru's tinny swears, the sheer volume of his yelling blowing out your phone's speakers. The sound of an incoming video call fills the room alongside your gagging and slurping as Naoya fucks himself deep into your throat.

"Answer the fucking call," Satoru snarls.

Your vision is hazy, distorted by the tears in your eyes as you continue to gag and swallow around the thick cock in your mouth, drool dripping out and down your chin. You still try to reach for your phone where it's been tossed aside, clear across the king-sized bed, with the intent to decline and end the prolonged call altogether.

But then Naoya leans over — the long length of his body and arms easily reaching it before you can, and you choke as his other hand meanly shoves your head back down as he thrusts into your mouth while the sound of the video call connecting joins your gagging.

Satoru balks at the smug grin and marked up broad chest that fills the screen, his face crowded so close to his own phone's screen that all that shows are his wide, bloodshot blue eyes and part of his forehead. There's a pulsing vein visible just above his brows.

"Who the fuck are you, and where the fuck is my girl—?!" 

Naoya tosses his head back as he hisses out a mixture between a groan and laugh. Your wide-eyed panic has your throat clenching around his cock, and he can't say he hates it. 

Gojo Satoru's bitching as he face-fucks you only makes it better.

An idea comes to him, completely ignoring the way Gojo's threatening to beat his ass, and it takes only seconds for him to follow through — flipping the camera's view to you.

He watches as the man's face falls, goes slack-jawed, at the sight of your sweet, glossy lips stretched wide around the base of his fat cock — cute little nose pressed against his trimmed pubes — with tears in your eyes as his large hand helps you bob up and down the long length of him. You're drooling and gagging, a pretty little mess, and it's all for him. 

"This your girl?" Naoya taunts, wrapping his fist in your hair before pulling you off of his cock entirely. You whine, mouthing at his shiny, spit-coated tip, looking up at him in a way that's utterly depraved. 

Your eyes are wide, all pretty color and blown out pupils with lashes spiked with tears, but they're glazed over in a way that says nobody's home — too fucked out from his cock, and eager to please in return.

He makes a show of how desperate you are to lap at his sloppy dick and heavy balls again, tugging you further back by the hair. 

Gojo's silent in his rage, camera shaking as he seethes. 

Naoya lets your hair fall loose from his fist, and it's nearly instantaneous — how you swallow him back down to the hilt, gagging yourself and drooling like a baby, but never giving up.

That's all it takes, really. That, and the way your throat clenches as you hum in contentment when Naoya reaches a hand down to pet at the nape of your neck — rough fingers scratching at the base of your skull — has him swearing as he shoots his load down your throat. 

"F—UCK, that's it—drink up, angel."

You try your best, wanting him to praise you more — to call you more pretty names.

But there's more than you anticipated, though, as your lips slide up his length. The viscous substance chokes you as it fills your mouth. You pop off of him with a lewd, wet sound, and he glances at the absolutely revolted look on Gojo's face when you open your mouth to show Naoya all of his cum laying thick and white on your tongue.

He taps a long finger against your chin in silent command, and your glistening eyes crinkle shut as you happily oblige, stray tears glittering down an abstract path along your flushed cheeks. 

You swallow it all down, sticking your naughty little tongue out — clean and pink — as you playfully go 'ahhh' to show him how well you listened.

"Heh," Naoya flips the camera back to show his face. He didn't think it was possible for the man to look even more upset as he was met with an unmistakable Zen’in. "I think you mean our girl."

---

✵ STUBBORN FATE✵ underground fighter!toji

your next door neighbor looks scary, but he cannot be far from it. little did you know his gentle smile and kind demeanor was masking his other life as an infamous underground fighter and he did not like you knowing about it either.

✵ underground fighter toji x uni!reader

✵ tags — SO MUCH ANGST AND HURT, blood, violence, vague assault from stranger, corruption kink, virginity loss, soft!dom toji, slow burn, mutual pinning, sfw, heavy nsfw, unprotected sex, (toji’s 26 reader is 20), protective toji, virgin!reader, spit kink, praise kink, crying, corruption kink, oral (f!receiving), fingering, crying, angst, bite kink,

✵ notes — the way this fic took me longer than I intended. I was gonna split it into two parts but i knew I’d get lazy and not complete it so I pushed thru and made it one long one shot

you weren’t scared. no you weren’t. you’re not…fuck

why couldn’t you be more aware? yes, you took this path many times to get to your apartment, but you should’ve remembered that this time was different. unlike the other times, someone had been tailing you since you left work. of course at night this section was much darker. and so, once you turned the corner, a pair of arms came around you.

the man from earlier now smiling, a darkness overlaying his sinister face as he pulled you further into the path, away from the main street …you couldn’t breathe. your body struggling as you flailed around. another pair of arms was holding you back, as you kicked out. able to get your elbow to collid with his stomach letting one of the men drop you.

“fucking bitch!” you felt sharp pain knock you down, holding your stomach as the other man came and gave you another kick to the back. the wind knocked out of you allowed the men to easily hold you down on the ground. you were completely vulnerable, the only thing you could do was scream for help. over and over…

your mind was fuzzy, you couldn’t stop your tears, trying your best to kick your legs out, only to receive a sharp slap across your face. “stay fucking still,” the hand covering your mouth allowed you to bite his finger, causing the man to hiss in pain, his hand bleeding.

you could barely see, your vision black….calm down calm down…i can’t see I can’t see—don’t touch me. get off me….what’s going to happen after? I want to go home! your ears stung, someone was screaming…I can’t breathe…why does my throat hurt?

you hadn’t realized that the one screaming was you— a gentle hand touched your face. flinching back, throwing your arms out, screaming—

“hey! it’s me! y/n! it’s me,” the familiar voice had you blinking. I can’t—I can’t breathe…a sudden wave knocked you over, filling your eyes with fat tears, letting out a broken sob.

“t…to…toji,” you couldn’t stop your tears anymore, breaking down completely, letting the man pull you into his embrace, his arms secure around your waist as he held the back of your head, allowing you to sob into his chest. he held you close, his own eyes bloodshot as he tried to stabilize his own breathing. holding you close to hide his own body shaking.

your vision was blocked by his body, not allowing you to notice what he’d done minutes ago to the two animals that lay dead on the ground. a black car coming with a few men you’d thought you’ve seen before…..

it was your first time living away from home, or off campus, you’d dormed your first two years, but decided to finally get an apartment, not wanting to deal with roommates anymore. it was a big step forward, but you were excited…maybe too excited.

“why isn’t the door opening?!” you grumbled to yourself, wiggling the door handle over and over, jiggling the handle—

the door suddenly swung open, causing you to stumble back, tripping on your bag you’d stupidly placed right behind your feet, knocking your head against the half wall behind you with a loud thud.

“fucks going on here?” a deep voice snapped. you were grumbling to yourself, rubbing your head in pain, eyes slowly trailing up the black sweats hanging loosely on the stranger, going up to the black sweater accentuating his broad shoulders until you were finally met with the dark green eyes staring back at you. “don’t want any ads—“ he goes to close the door.

your body quickly struggling to get up, reaching out with a loud, “wait!”

his brows quirked, seeing you kneeling down in front of his door. who even is this?

“it says this is my apartment,” you turn your paper that the land lord gave you just a couple minutes ago. scribbled very messy in the corner is room 406

he reached out taking the paper to read. this allowed you some time to look over the stranger. he was quite intimidating. a shadow looming over him as if he was something you should definitely not associate with. he was a bit older then you, maybe a couple years or so. he didn’t have any wrinkles, but his face looked tired. eyes downcast, hair disheveled. what caught your attention though was the multiple cuts on his knuckles and the scar in the corner of his lip. was he part of a gang?

that didn’t stop your eyes from wandering a little more. you’d definitely never approach him willingly on the streets, yet you couldn’t stop the heat crawling up your neck. he was much bigger then anyone you’ve ever met. if you squint just a tiny bit you could see the subtle bulge—

“anyone taught you manners, kid?” your eyes snapped up, face burning from embarrassment,

you gasp. “I’m not a kid—how old are you—“

“older than you,” he quipped with a sly grin, handing you back the paper.

“the land lord’s almost 90, the new apartment is 407, he must’ve forgot,” he watched as your brows pinched together, looking down at your paper. why were you so focused, and you still haven’t gotten up from your position on the floor. cute.

“oh, ah!” your hand slaps over your mouth, head shooting up as you apologized, over and over. I’m so sorry, I must’ve been knocking like crazy! it’s all my fault! I didn’t mean to bother you!

the only thing that stopped your frantic words was the warm hand on your head. your gaze meeting the deep green eyes. stunned, your lips parted a bit too cutely for him to handle. he couldn’t help himself. he was squatting at your height, petting your cute little head because you were getting all panicky over something so silly.

“don’t worry about it,” his words went straight into your chest, your eyes practically seeing hearts. he’s so nice! you were so wrong about him, you like his warm hand.

“moving in on yer own?” he asked, immediately noticing how jittery you’re getting, how cute.

you quickly tell him that the moving guys are downstairs, which you quickly come to regret since he removed his hand from your head to look over the side of the tokyo apartment building to see the small moving truck below.

“that’s good, it seems that everything’s sorted out,” he moved to go back inside his apartment, only to feel a small hand around his wrist. a small rush filled his chest, why did he hear his heart skip? he had to listen. once he looked under his arm, the almost 26 year old, felt his heart jump. your bright eyes looking up at him.

both hands holding his wrist, unknowingly squeezing your pretty tits up just for him to see. the little gloss on your wet lips had him feeling a certain way. all he could think of was petting your head as he helped you swallow his fat girth. he could read you perfectly, he knew your pretty eyes would fill with tears, it’s too big, but he’d still praise your pretty head off just for you to get all excited and continue slobbering all over him until his dick would twitch and—

“l/n y/n, it’s nice to meet you…” you gave a respectful nod, before looking up waiting desperately to find out who your kind neighbor’s name is. not once did your hand leave his wrist.

“toji.” nothing further said, yet he felt his heart beat a bit too loudly when he saw your pretty hair fly up a bit like some ghibli movie, you were too excited.

“toji-san,” you repeated the name to feel how it sounded on your lips, not realizing that it too gave the man a similar reaction. his cheeks dusting a light pink as he felt a strain in his loose sweats. how could she be even cuter?

the encounter was not the only one you had with the mysterious man. you often heard him coming back to his apt at odd hours of the night. sometimes when you’d be buying a drink at the vending machine, you’d hear toji on the phone arguing. he tended to do that a lot. some encounters he’d have gave you the creeps. what does he do?

you obviously didn’t voice it, but you enjoyed running into him during your late night convenience store runs. you used to think it was a fun coincidence, but now it was something you looked forward to every Tuesday and Friday night’s. I guess you both needed something during these days..

“toji!” the man looked up hearing your voice. you smiled brightly jogging up to him in your big hoodie and little pajama shorts, his eyes took a quick glance at your bare legs. the small heat in his chest made him avert his gaze, but he waited allowing you to come over to him before he pushed off the fence and walked with you to the store.

“how was classes?” toji had a habit of asking about your classes. you never voiced this to him, but you knew he was really interested….

“what’re you working on?” toji sat across from you in your little apartment living room. you’d invited him saying you made too much food and he quickly took up the offer, not refusing a free meal.

“physics,” you mumble, mind focused on your problem as you leaned against your arm writing down the formula. toji was silent as he watched you, eating every couple of seconds only to pause, infatuation consuming him as he watched your eyes dart around the page as he followed along with your equation.

“is it fun?” he could see the intrigue, your eyes lighting up as you looked up, nodding your head.

“i get stuck sometimes, but when I figure out the equation it’s really fun!” you gush, cheeks dusting with excitement. toji blinked, biting his smile as he snorted.

“nerd,” his reply only had you taking fake offense.

as annoying and bothersome your neighbor could be. he had his own way of being considerate and subtly asking how you’re doing. you can’t help the butterflies it sets off. he doesn’t like talking about personal matters, yet always asks how you are.

toji, however, didn’t need a single thing from the store. but he began to notice your late night runs once you’d first moved in a semester and a half ago, which he really did not like. he began accompanying you because though Japan is considered a pretty safe country, it’s still not a guarantee, especially this late at night and in this neighborhood.

“why can’t you wait until the morning?” he’d ask you repeatedly, you’d come down for things that you wouldn’t even need that very night.

“cuz I’ll forget by the morning,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. he hated how you do most of your errands at night, he hated it even more when he’d see you coming back late to your apt. but what can he do? you’re an adult, of course you’re free to do as you pleased. but that didn’t stop his stomach for turning.

the man’s eyes were focused on you, as you headed back in the direction of your building. you were going on and on about something that toji probably wouldn’t even care about if it was anyone else. but he enjoyed listening to you, he couldn’t help it when you were telling him about how your professor was praising you for your hard work and his hand was suddenly placed on your head. you stopped moving, blinking wide.

“you’re pretty smart, aren’t ya,” his deep voice had your eyes gazing up starstruck. his hand sent a wave of warmth through your body, feeling your heart beating in your ears. “such a good girl, I’m proud,” your cheeks stung with heat, the words caught in your throat because why? why did this man send your mind in shambles!

“tch, it’s not a big deal,” you try to brush off the praise, but toji can tell how much of an effect his has on you. you always melt whenever he touches your head. what would happen if he just kissed you right now? would you part your pretty lips for him? let him swallow up your whimpers—you were dazed, staring up into his deep warm eyes. he’d tease you about your homework one day, then praise you the next. you were unsure, confused, but that didn’t stop your chest from warming up.

“i—“

“ahh toji, we’ve been waiting!” your words were cut by the three men taking a smoke against a dark suv in your buildings lot. they all were big, just like toji, their arms and necks tatted, which had an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach.

“are they your friends?” you bit your cheek feeling how he retracted his hand, the two of you still walking, toji a bit more cautiously. the elevator was beside where the men were parked. you looked over at toji once he didn’t respond. feeling the hairs on your arm stick up, heart beating a little faster. his jaw was clenched, a vein bulging, and hand curled into a fist, and his eyes…they were as dark as night. “toji—“

“cmon man! we’ve been waiting for awhile now,” one of the men spoke, suddenly taking a beat until you caught his eye. “oh oh.”

your body jumped feeling toji’s hand rest on your lower back. his body almost pressing against your side like a guard dog. your eyes wavered on the men looking at you up and down.

“are ya havin’ fun with your little toy?” you felt a shiver run up your spine, feeling a warm breath against your ear.

“go straight to your apartment,” he was so close! your heart skipped a beat as he gave your lower back a little nudge in the direction.

“to—“ you looked over your shoulder, only to see that his eyes were dead set on the men across the lot. the street light casting a looming shadow over his face, his unkept hair darkening his eyes. yet…. he took a moment to meet your gaze, immediately letting his dark orbs soften with a reassuring grin.

“make sure you lock the door,” your heart flutters, “okay?” he waits for your little nod then points his head to the elevator, “good girl,” your body filled with butterflies as you calmly made way to the elevator. his eyes keeping a close watch on the men. he doesn’t move until the elevator doors finally close shut.

after your shower you tried your best to stay up, you felt a little uneasy about the situation. but you wanted to know if toji got back home safely. however, sleep overpowered your mind and you quickly knocked out on your comfy grey couch………

“we’re taking you to a hospital,” toji was holding you close as he called for the men to get an ambulance. your hand grasped his shirt, shaking your head.

“don’t,” you let out a small sigh, trying to calm down. your mind was in scrambles, desperately trying to think rationally. luckily you didn’t suspect anything to be broken.

“fuck you mean? please just listen to—“

“I said no!” you finally shout, letting go of the man, instead hugging your own body as you carefully stood up. toji swearing under his breath……..

you hadn’t seen toji in quite some time, he always seemed to be out when you’d come back home. you didn’t want to admit it, but you missed him. you missed walking with him at night. you missed giving him some extra food you’d ordered. you missed his comforting smile and warm hand. you never minded having him watch you do your homework. you wondered if he wanted to do more of your old homework.

“I finally got the tickets, cmon!” your friend, suna, had been going on about seeing this underground fight a couple months ago, however, you and your other friends didn’t believe him. suna took it a little too personally and desperately tried to buy tickets for months, and now he’s finally got them.

“this place is shady as hell,” you mumbled, yoru was holding your sleeve as you followed suna and your other two friends down the long dark alleyway, already picking up on the loud cheers and screaming.

after a few more seconds of walking, the small corridor burst into a huge underground stadium. your eyes blinking from the sudden bright lights.

“hey, stay close,” suna took your wrist leading you and yoru carefully past the huge bodies of people cheering.

“there’s so many people,” yoru shouted, your eyes trailing over the many different kinds of people that were here. it varied from high class businessmen, to normal average civilians. everyone seemed to be here.

“you guys should be on your knees thanking me,” suna boosted, you and your other friends rolling your eyes. “the price for this is not cheap,” neither of you said anything, considering how suna was a trust fund baby.

little did you know that the moment you’d stepped into the stadium, you caught a man’s unwanted attention. he’d only seen you once with toji, how beautiful, he thought, a sinister smile spreading across his teeth.

you all were watching the fights. it wasn’t like anything you’ve seen before. suna had told you guys earlier that this wasn’t the most legal friendly place, but you honestly could not have suspected this.

the rules of boxing had clear illegal moves, yet those rules did not seem to apply here. your body would cringe at the horrific sounds of bones breaking, fists breaking skin. the gruesome sounds sent your stomach turning, especially with this being with wraps instead of protective gloves like in a usual boxing match.

it was five different fights and you were getting close to the final one when a man by the name of raido, suddenly appeared in front of you. “you look like you’re enjoying the game,” his eyes closed in what seemed to be a kind smile. you felt a bit uneasy, but nodded your head, then looking past him to put out that you’re not interested.

“we’ve got some empty seats in the front,” he continued going on, this caught suna’s ear. “of course you can bring your nice little friends with you,”

“no tha—“

“holy fuck yes!” suna immediately jumps up, dragging you all with him as you scold him.

“suna!” you all hit him, clearly noticing how off putting this man is. he had tattoos that peaked under his dress shirt, he smelled of cigarettes, alcohol, and blood, and what was even more disturbing was the sunglasses. you couldn’t see where he was looking.

you kept an eye as the man, walking back to his seat, he seemed pretty important considering he had a place high in the stadium that overlooked the entire place. he whispered to the men he was sitting with, they all turned to meet your gaze.

“shit—“ you looked away, heart thumping as you prayed they didn’t catch you staring. luckily the next fighters were coming into the ring. finally allowing you a chance to breathe—“

suddenly you felt your dinner clawing up your throat.

“huh…”

“what is it?” yoru noticed your eyes wide open, staring straight ahead. “y/n—“

“and the moment you’d all been waiting for! the reason why any of you are here! the emperor of the night! tooooooojjjjjiiiiiii zeninnnnn!!!” the stadium burst with screams.

you couldn’t breathe. it felt like everything around you had gone quiet. you missed him. you cursed yourself. it’s been over three weeks or more, and now he was here. you felt your heart hammering. your mind dazed as he took of his robe. chills ran through your body at the sight. you would never have guessed. you only ever saw him with a hoodie or loose sweater, but now stripped down to just some boxing shorts, you had a clear view of the dragon tattoo that decorated his broad sculpted back. his bicep showcasing another collection of tattoos that wrapped around his arms. his sculpted thighs branded as well.

“y/n!” you were brought back by yoru’s concerned shaking, you apologize brushing her off so you can watch him. you didn’t know much about boxing honestly, but knowing this was not following the rules made you feel uneasy seeing toji here.

the night spent in your apartment as he looked through your old exams. you knew he had secrets, he rarely spoke about them except that he started working at a young age. he didn’t have time for studies. he’d always say you’re smarter than him. yet, he would be invested in your old homework. writing old problems down “just for fun”. the constant scratching of his head. his green eyes scanning the page as he tapped the end of the pencil against his scar on his lip.

“how’d you get this?” he’d shyly mumble, only for you to show him how you arrived at the right answer. he held onto every single word. he liked it. he liked it even more when you’d explain it to him kindly, no yelling, no degrading, just a simple explanation; and he’d get it. he wasn’t dumb…no… you think he was smarter than anyone you’ve ever met.

but he was in a place like this.

you wanted him to win. you didn’t want him getting hurt like the previous fighters. you wanted him to win so you can grab his hand and take him home…

toji’s feet pounded the ground, as big as he was, he was fast. faster than the fighters before. it was too easy for him. he dodged like no other, countered like no other, and punched like no other. as fun as this was for the crowd, it was not just a game for others. and for toji, it was a job.

he crashed onto the stool in his corner, spitting out some blood when his opponent got a cheap shot in. rinsing his mouth with the water his team fed him.

“fuck is taking you so long?” Raido suddenly appeared beside toji’s side, leaning against the ring. “you have a job.”

“I’ll rip that fucking flapper straight outta yer face if you speak to me that way, again,” his team was dead silent, frozen as ice. “you understand?” raido could not answer. instead he made the mistake of letting his eyes flicker up for barely a second. yet toji immediately caught his line of vision and he felt his entire body run cold.

“what is she doing here?” toji suddenly stood up, his eyes were dark, body boiling.

“boss, the rounds starting,” one of his men was waiting for toji to open his mouth to put the mouth guard on. toji couldn’t think clearly, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took.

yoru was yelling constantly in your ear. your eyes wavering between her and the ring. you couldn’t catch raido’s smirk as he strides back to his seat. he was lucky, if you weren’t here, he didn’t know if he’d be able to succeed, that’s only if his men gave him the correct information. if the boss truly likes you then…

“what’s this!!” the audience is in screams, having just witnessed the cleanest maneuvering and a clear hook the immediately knocks his opponent out, jaw definitely broken. “The emperor of the night!” suna was going absolutely ballistic beside you.

toji couldn’t cheer, his eyes instead settled on the men in the booth high up in the stands, raido whispering in their ears as they boiled with anger. he’d won… he’d won, but he hadn’t completed what was expected of him. what was ordered of him. his opponent was to have a minimum of two broken limbs in the course of seven rounds, and yet he’s won with a simple knockout in just three rounds. of course it was for one reason only…

he didn’t need you seeing him like that.

what he’d thought was something to spare you, only seemed to shine a huge spotlight on how deeply you affect the “boss”. it wasn’t hidden either, no, it was definitely shown to everyone else, friend and enemy as raido came forth slipping something into the hosts pocket.

“as we do every night, an audience member is chosen to greet the champion with his medal!” the audience bursting with excitement. “and our winner is!” The host takes out the slip of paper from his pocket and reads of the seat number.

“C8” the audience fell silent as they all looked to the front rows, waiting for the winner to stand.

“that’s you y/n!” yoru yelped, suna gasping as your friends stared at you dumbfounded.

“have we found our winner?” The host shouted. “ahh what a beautiful young lady!” the audiences that could see, were letting out whistles. “now don’t be shy.” you felt uncomfortable under the eyes of the entire stadium, your eyes briefly glancing up at the stands, shivering to see all the men in suits practically feasting on you with their greedy eyes.

your heart beating was the only thing you could hear. your friends shoving you forward didn’t help either. you silently prayed for it to be you, you wanted to see him closer. you didn’t want anyone else near him, touching him, looking at him—but…but now…now you wanted to run away, you didn’t like it. you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

his warm eyes and gentle smile was not there. no instead their was an unfamiliar hardness replaced in the kneeled fighters face. raido held your hand, helping you into the ring as he handed you the medal to gift the fighter.

the stadium was filled with cheers and applause, you were dragging your feet, unaware of how close raido stayed, until you took another step forward and felt your body suddenly lunging forward. it was too fast to process, because suddenly your body was pressed firmly against toji’s warm body. you could feel his heart beating fast, and his hand was so softly resting on the back of your head. you hadn’t realized that he’d immediately took your wrist pulling you into his embrace.

“I guess the emperor also has a type!” the host laughed, taking the attention off the fighter as he joked, allowing raido to smirk at the fighter.

“seems like you’ve made your decision,” his words laced with snark and confidence.

“big talk after the fact,” toji couldn’t help the deep laugh that was crawling it’s way up his chest. you felt goosebumps erupt on your skin feeling his chest rumble with laughter. “ahh I guess I like games too,” toji’s glare immediately had raido averting his gaze as he walked away, not before looking down at you.

there was a brief moment of silence. he was sweaty, sticky, and clearly bothered. but his arms were careful not to hurt you.

“what’re you doing here?” his voice had shifted tones, suddenly your mind could immediately recognize he was directing this to you.

“I came with my friends,” you gulp.

“if I ever catch you here again—“ your head pushes off to look him in the eyes, letting his words be directed at you and not the air, he falls silent. words caught in his throat, green eyes wavering as he met your bright ones. he cursed himself even more, his heart was hammering uncontrollably.

“who are you to tell me—“ his hand pulls you to his shoulder, fingers behind your neck as your eyes looked past his shoulder feeling his lips tickle your cheek as he spoke.

your mind flashes to the night your classmate walked you home. you spent some extra time in the lab to finish some work and test out a certain theory you wanted to run by your professor. you could tell your lab partner was trying to get with you. he constantly hit on you, flirted during your labs, but he was pretty charming. so you weren’t afraid when he asked to walk you home.

toji had been roaming around the building. he knocked on your door a few hours ago. he’d ordered some food for when you get back. this time it was his treat. you were always home at this hour. why do I care? toji was coming back from getting a drink from the store when he noticed the exchange happening in front of the building.

you were holding your bag, lips moving as you spoke with your hands. the unfamiliar man stood in front, his eyes darting over your figure. his fingers grazing your exposed shoulder—

“ah!” your body was suddenly yanked back, hitting a firm body. “toji?” glancing over your shoulder at the man holding your wrist, meeting your gaze. why did he do that? he had no clue what was going on. “this is my lab par—“

“I ordered thai,” he cuts you off. he was praying you couldn’t see the warm heat crawling up his ears.

“oh, okay, I’ll be right up—“

“it’ll get cold, you don’t like cold drunken noodles,” he said holding your wrist a bit more gently as he pulled you with him. ignoring all the alarms going off in his head.

“y/n—“ your lab partner called, as you glanced over your shoulder.

“I’ll send over the report tomorrow morning,” unbeknownst to you, toji was glaring aggressively at the man. a giant guard dog looming over you, immediately making him feel unsafe as he quickly went off.

“did you wait long?” you opened your apartment, allowing toji to sit in the living room, legs crossed as he opened up the food, laying it out.

“no,” his tongue darted out touching his scar. eyes following your form as you disappeared into your room. the door slightly ajar, self control wasn’t something toji was familiar with. especially when it came to you. he couldn’t help his eyes from watching your form pull over your top.

fuck, his gaze dragged over the brief glimpses of your naked back. he wondered how his rough hands would feel against the soft skin, how his lips would feel as he searched the spot that’d make you whine. why’re his pants getting tight, he gulped seeing you slip on a loose fitting tshirt, kicking off your pants.

his mind ran wild. eyes darkening, he wanted to bend you over right there. he wanted to feel your ass against his palm, he wanted to kiss your shoulder, stroke his palm down to your warm pussy. how wet would you be? would you shy under his gaze or rut against his hand. ahh he’d peel your pretty pink panties to the side and pull his fat length—

“you didn’t have to wait,” you quickly shuffled out of the room, yellow shorts flowing against your glowing thighs, plopping down in front of your neighbor.

“you’re the one that likes having the first bite,” he quips, ignoring the bulging hard on he’s carrying for you.

“nuh-uh, I just like—“ his fingers slip a spring roll in your mouth,

“having the first bite,” he finishes, watching you take a bite, cheeks heating aggressively as he brushed the crumbs from your lips.

“you my maid now?” you say with a mouth full, trying to conceal your arousal.

“you’d like that. like it when i feed you?” he tilts his head, eyes half lidded as he watched you blink. “cat got your tongue?”

“no,” you huff, embarrassed how flustered you’re getting.

“open your mouth,” his command automatically had your lips parting as he slipped in a noodle, not bothering to use his chopsticks, allowing his fingers to touch your wet lips. your lips enclosed around his two fingers.

“you like sucking on my fingers?” his experience with previous women, was able to shield his beating heart. so infatuated with your warm mouth licking his finger, rolling over the pads of his rough digit. he swore under his breath, pulling his fingers out as he dragged your bottom lip down. your tongue lulling out in submission.

“are you still a virgin?” his thumb pulled at your bottom lip. your legs were clenching together, a warmth pooling inside your light pink panties. shifting for some friction.

“you have a corruption kink or something?” you bite his thumb.

“not necessarily,” he swears as you suck on his thumb, eyes fluttering as you open your lips to take little breaths. “you like sucking on people’s fingers?” his pupils were dilating.

“your not just people,” you reply, toji cursing at your flustered state.

“you’re not hungry?” he bites his cheek, shifting his weight feeling his dick straining.

“oh, ya,” your lips peeling away from his thumb as toji brushes his hand atop your head. petting you as you generously ate the food he’d ordered. your eyes would dart up to meet his, but he only ate his food as if you hadn’t just been sucking on his fingers, visibly turned on by it too. instead, toji helped you clear the rest of the food as he cleaned it up.

“you have more work?” he walked back into the small living room seeing your papers now piled on the table. your hand switching between jotting notes with your pencil, to typing quickly on your laptop.

“I have a report I need to finish up,” toji suddenly remembered the encounter earlier. he was unfamiliar with this feeling. he couldn’t understand why he pulled you away from that kid. and he couldn’t reason why he isn’t sitting in his usual place across from you, but instead plants himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

your body was on a fire. huh? “you t-tired?” you cleared your throat trying to remain calm.

“thought I’d keep ya company,” he mumbled, lips pressing feather like kisses on your exposed neck. your eyes fluttered as his hand brushed your exposed thigh. “you’re burning up,” he whispers, causing your head to lull back on his shoulder as his palm generously squeezed your hip. “I’m distracting you?”

“ya,” you sigh, whimpering oh so softly.

“if I asked you to let my eat your pussy, how wet would you get?” your definitely blew a fuse. head steaming as you clenched around nothing, definitely soaking your panties completely. Toji’s head went back in laughter.

“asshole!” you elbow his side, making him groan. “don’t tease virgins! it’s not nice!” you turn back to your work, desperately trying to calm your body.

toji settled peacefully behind you. eyes following your homework as if he wasn’t sporting a hard boner that was pressed against your lower back.

“toji-“

“keep working, I’ll keep up,” he reassured, ignoring your stiff body until you returned to your work. shoulders slowly relaxing, body easily molding in his embrace as he’d mumble here and there. couldn’t you also use this formula? how’d you get to that? his fingers danced on your thigh, gently massaging the flesh of your inner thigh, his warm palm had a wave of heat coursing down south, and he didn’t care.

his fingers would tickle as he crawled higher up to the pulsing heat. your shorts loose enough for his fingers to slip inside your pant hole and tickle your panties. your breathing hitched as toji continued talking as if this was just one of your normal little sessions. it was a good distraction.

“I’m sorry,” toji retracted his hand, you were too focused on your work to hear what he’d said, but his hand returned to your thigh.

nothing happened after. toji fell asleep beside you, legs stretched out under the table as he laid on his side, arm swung over your lap as you finished up your work before you too crashed on the floor. and yet…here you are now…

“you wanna act like a bratty little college kid, then go get fucking wasted at some fucking party and stay up late smokin’ pot, fuck if I care,” his voice dropped, warm breath only sending a cold feeling across your body, “go on a date somewhere else. get your pussy wet fucking on some ferris wheel,” you felt sick the more he went. “but don’t you dare come back here.” your heart wouldn’t stop pounding. “do I make myself clear?”

you aggressively try to push him away only for his grip to tighten clearly not finished. “you’re a big fucking problem, we talk a couple times doesn’t give you any idea what position you’ve put me in. I’m not your fucking boyfriend or some shitty friend; you’re nothing to me. so you’re going to leave and I never…never want to see your face again.”

you finally get free with a harder push, falling back on your ass. eyes wavering on his face. you couldn’t recognize him. this wasn’t the same man who’d walk with you late at the night, he wasn’t the kind man that would pat your head whenever you did something good…no…this wasn’t him.

the long nights spent in your apartment explaining equations, only for him to gradually catch up in which he’s finally beginning to understand the problems on his own. sharing food as you’d lean over the table to correct his problems and he wouldn’t feel insecure in the least bit that you’re a girl and you’re helping him. smarty pants, don’t let it get to your head.

“y/n—“ your friend’s calls fall on deaf ears as you quickly made your exit, ignoring everything and everyone around you.

toji quietly watched until you were completely out of his sight. allowing him the opportunity to have his full attention on the men in the booth. dead men walking………

“what’re you doing?” toji stood from his spot as he watched you walking down the path, clearly trying to get back home. “y/n!”

you didn’t answer, instead focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, one arm across your stomach holding your side, as the other wiped the tears that felt endless.

the fighters jaw clenched as he watched you completely ignore him. his chest filling with frustration because how could this have happened. it was a message—someone was definitely targeting you in order to get to him—

a sudden yelp had toji immediately kicking off the pavement, arm around your waist keeping you from hitting the ground. you struggled in his hold, desperately trying to wiggle out “let…go,” your hands were clawing at his forearm, whining when he wouldn’t set you free.

“let me help you—“

“no!” you shout, only to whimper quickly after, suddenly feeling the kicks you received earlier. “I’m doing you a favor.”

“what’re you talkin—“

“you didn’t want me! I’m sparring you the trouble it’ll cause,” toji could feel your body trembling, your eyes stinging with anger and pain.

“hey…hey, take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” toji sets aside any of his own thoughts in order to calm your mind. talking you through deep breaths as he carefully kept his arm around your waist, until you were stepping into your apartment. sitting you down on the couch and moving to the bathroom.

“I guess it really would be trouble,” you mumble faintly, however, the man is able to pick up on it as he opens the first aid supplies. his green eyes flickering up to see your own swollen ones staring outside.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes return to him, watching as he gently cleans the cut on your lip and cheek. you don’t look at him. look at me, please! his thoughts were scrambled. no don’t, I don’t deserve it…

you felt your chest tighten, feeling the weight—he buried his face in your lap, hands gripping the sides of your long green skirt. your lips trembling as you watched his shoulders shake with anger. he’d unbuttoned your cream shirt, and he physically felt nauseous.

he’s caused worse, he’s received worse. but the dark bruise on your side looked like the worst possible damage in the world to him.

“why’re you mad?” your jaw clenched, blood boiling at his audacity. he had no right.

“I’ll kill them,” his words were muffled, he couldn’t think straight. “I’ll kill then all—“

“why?” his head snapped up, looking at you as if you’d just asked the most bizarre question ever.

“why?” he repeated, trying desperately to control his breathing, yet his eyes continued to look at the dark purple bruise.

“yes. why,” you pushed his hands off you, cursing as you stumbled only for his hands to come up to your waist, allowing you another chance to push them away.

“why? because they fucking hurt you!” he shouted, no longer able to contain his anger. especially with how loose you’re taking this. “you’re bleeding, and bruised—“

“nothings broken,” you snap back, staring out the window, not giving him the time of day.

“don’t be stupid.”

“what?” you whip your head over your shoulder, brows pinched. “you’ve come back with black eyes, the guys in that ring have broken bones, smashed in faces—“

“fuck kinda comparison are you tryna make here?!”

“the one between you and me,” your eyes were leaking, unbothered as you ripped out the pages throwing them piece by piece. “I’m the fucking problem, but I’m the one that you always come too. I’m hurt, but you’re always angry! you’re always angry even if you’re quiet even when you’re teasing me. I’m the idiot, but you’re an even bigger one!”

he stood silent.

“I left you alone because I thought… that it would stop your pain,” toji felt his heart squeeze, he didn’t like seeing you like this. what’s happening right now? of course this is his fault. when is it ever not his fault!? he’s brought this life on you, he caused this. only you’ve ever called him smart, but this man was nothing close to being smart. instead letting his mouth speak on foolish impulse.

“maybe i need to get further away.”

your tears collecting in your broken eyes. throat dry, lungs gradually running out of air over the course of the night.

“fuck…fuck y-“ you were holding your chest, clawing at your skin as you ran out of oxygen, breathing turning into hiccups for air. toji was an idiot.

stupid mouth. his body never listens. immediately holding you as he kneeled with your falling body.

“y/n! y/n, listen to my voice,” he held your cheek as you gasped for air, your panic attack sending your mind into a state of shock. “calm down…breathe, babygirl.”

your nails dug into his wrist, getting scared the more you tried to calm down. “breathe with me, come on, I know you’re a smart girl.” he held your hand letting you place it on your stomach allowing you a conscious physical feeling of breathing in and out, as he did it with you.

the panic attack slowly began to subside as you took in a few more deep breaths. his warm hand littered with scars and open cuts, gently caressed your cheek. your eyes gazing up at him, you hated him. but that didn’t stop you from squeezing his wrist.

his heart couldn’t shut up, what am I doing? this was not what he’d been preaching. quite the opposite. this was the closest he’s been to you. arms protectively holding you close. his cheek propped on his elbow as he gazed down at your sleeping form. cheeks still a bit damp. your scent engulfing him as he felt high.

“idiot.”

“are you still mad at me?” toji leaned against the vending machine as he watched you walk past him. you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder for the past month. and yet, he still stayed on you like a lost puppy.

“you’re the one that’s mad,” you roll your eyes, laughing to yourself when he’d do his routine of jogging up beside you, hands deep in his pockets as he accompanied you in your night shopping.

“why’re you still going out at night?” he huffed, frowning as he tilted his head staring at you from the side.

“I have errands.”

“which can be done later. can’t you be more cautious?” his jaw clenched.

“but you’re here,” you finally look at him. he blinks for a moment, noticing that the bruise on your cheek has healed, along with the cut on your lip.

“well, i won’t always be,” he bit his cheek, noticing your gaze still on him.

“then leave,” you pick up the pace. toji was starting to grow frustrated. you were not cautious. you went about your life as if there’s no risk. you didn’t care if it was night or day. you did as you pleased as if you hadn’t experienced a traumatizing event a month ago. and that terrified the man.

his hand held your arm, turning you back to him. “what’s going on? what’s the problem?”

“you tell me?” you shove back at him.

“you!” why does he always get so angry. “you’re the fucking problem!” toji cursed over and over. “why can’t you listen to me?”

“you’re nothing to me,” you threw his words back at him. he clenched his jaw.

“what do you want from me?” he needed you, he needed you so badly, but you can not choose him. he won’t allow you to trust him. not even if he’d give his life for you.

“you—“ your jaw clenched as well. he always makes your blood boil. “you’re just an idiot,” you burst. “fucking idiot!” you stomp away. “fuck you!”

“fuck you!” he yelled back.

toji cursed following you to and back from the store. “y/n!” toji called as you sped to your apartment, only for the door to slam in his face. “fuck me.”

his shoulders dropped, leaning his head against your door. what is he doing? he can’t put you through this, yet he already is. he was unfamiliar with this feeling. longing for someone. he didn’t like how calm he felt in your company. how his stomach churned whenever you’d meet his eyes with you’re bright and pure ones. you were too good for him. you were smart and ambitious. you had no limits, but if he was there he’d only drag you down. he wasn’t good for you.

the blood splattered on the floor. the cheers faded in the background as toji rolled his shoulders back. he was surprised to see the opponent rise to his feet. he usually had no thoughts except the job in mind during these matches. yet, it always gets scrambled when one person faces him.

not here.

your arms and legs crossed, leaning against the seats in the second row, chin up as you maintained eye contact on the ring, specifically the star of the night.

toji could not afford to loose out on the money. he’d already gotten to the sixth round, barely keeping this opponent alive in order to break his right arm, and two ribs. but you’re here. why!

“fuck!” toji rinsed his mouth with the water. letting his team slip the guard back in his mouth, eyes sharp as he met your gaze. he was angry. feral. but you stay unfazed.

fuck it. this is what you wanted. he wanted you to leave him. so he’ll lay out all his cards. no limits.

he looked like a beast, his agility was superhuman, and his strength could not compare to anyone else. he snapped the man’s arm with a quick and calculated jab to the joint, and a hook directly hitting his bottom two ribs, cracking them instantly. the man’s scream and the sound of bones breaking made audiences cheer or look away gagging.

your grip was tight, nails digging into your bicep as you averted your eyes down. your heart was hammering. what’re you doing here? you’re asking for it now! but you looked up, as horrified as you felt, it didn’t compare to the complete and utter hurt in toji’s eyes.

you stayed seated, people jumping around you, an audience member handing toji another medal, that was cheap and easily disposable. his looming form stood back up, taking quick and long strides across and out of the ring, until an arm wrapped around your bicep.

“ow!” you wince, his strength was something you couldn’t compete with. “owww toji!”

“this hurts?” he snaps, not letting go until you’ve made it all the way outside, having gone through a back passage, as he finally let go of you. the sounds of cars and a bustling night city in the distance.

“you hurt me!” you yell back.

“was I? I didn’t know,” his words laced with sarcasm. his hands rubbing his face. he was angry. “are you dumb?”

“no.”

“yes,” his eyes follow you. arms crossed again.

“why’re you so mad?” you’re really pushing his buttons.

“I’m the idiot!?” he exclaims. “Me!? fuck me!”

“you said I’m nothing, so why do you care so much? honestly it’s hypocritical. I can do what I want—“

“no you can’t! do you like acting like a fucking brat? you’re not allowed here—“

“who says?”

“me!” his chest is fuming, eyes wide and tired. “I said I don’t want to see you here.”

“no you said you never wanted to my face ever again. anywhere. but you’ve been breaking your dumbass rule over and over again. so it’s only fair that I do too,” his jaw clenches. “and I’m not a brat.”

“go home, y/n,” toji turns around, there’s no use wasting his breath. you’ve always been stubborn, since the day you’ve met. at least he dragged you away from the eyes inside—

his breath hitched. a weight pressed up against his back. toji felt his heart pulse, swallowing slowly as he feels your arms tighten around his fit waist. your hands were always so cold, so why was his body on fire? your face pressed deeper against his shoulder blades. “let go.”

“no,” you can feel your heart beating against your chest, stomach churning as you hold onto him so dearly. “I’m not leaving without you.” the fighter swears under his breath, eyes clenched tight recalling all the blood on his hands, the ghosts of the past. yet here’s an angel unable to let go of a monster—

“y/n, i said let go,” his hands try to pull your wrists off him, but you’re grasping onto him so desperately as you shake your head behind him. “stop acting like this!”

he’s able to get free, spinning around to face you. your hands balled into fists. he doesn’t need to say anything, he can easily read your expression. your lip jutted out, your eyes darting between his devoid of any ounce of doubt. his breath hitched. why are you so obsessed with getting hurt?

he left again—

that didn’t seem to work though. you were persistent. you came almost every night. watching every single one of his matches. it didn’t matter if you had work all day or exams the night morning. you would still show up. he would shout, yell, curse—repeatedly urging you to fucking listen to him—

“It’s fucking dangerous! what don’t you get?!”

“well that’s my fucking problem then,” you shrug, only causing the fighter to slam his fist behind you, cursing as the concrete alley wall broke the skin of his knuckles.

“fuck me,” his head dropped, brows scrunched. he can’t do everything. living this kind of life and having you. it was impossible. “I need to keep you safe.” he mumbles.

“i don’t need saving—“

“yes, you do,” he feels your delicate hand lift his head. “why’re you doing this to me? you’re always messing with my head,” he curses, your hands feel so nice. they could probably cleanse him of everything he once was, the horrors of his life and the trauma of the past. but he didn’t need the dirt staining you too.

“I’m not doing anything,” you answer, thumb carefully touching the scar on his lip. heart fluttering as his eyes fell to your lips. his entire being was fighting not to crash his lips onto yours. he wanted to know what you felt like. he could’ve done it with you ages ago, but it didn’t feel right. he didn’t want to disappear the next day. if he wanted to have you, he’d become obsessed—

“do I have to choose?” you couldn’t fully understand his predicament. you didn’t even know how dark his past was. but to you it didn’t matter. none of it mattered except that you could see the giant burden that had this man walking with a weight on his shoulders. living a life of crime and misery, when he had so much potential. potential that he thought to be useless, that was told by others was useless. but not to you. he was a diamond in the rough, and you were not letting that go.

“up to you,” you pulled away this time. as much as you held on, you couldn’t chain him down. he had to set himself free, you just gave him the key.

you knew what you were doing was dangerous. but you only had his best interests in mind—

the banging on the door startled you up. your eyes wavering at the extensive pounding. fuck fuck fuck, you messed up big time! it was because you kept going to his fights, now those men are here to kill you! skin you alive! fuck!

“shit,” you tripped getting off the couch, banging your side on the coffee table, hand quickly slapping over your mouth. the bangs were not stopping, praying the killer hadn’t heard you. your knees scurry across the floor reaching for the baseball bat—

“y/n, open the fucking door!” your hand freezes on the bat, ears perking. “y/n! come on I know you’re here!—“

“don’t fucking scare me like that!” you shout, swinging the door open, only to stumble back as toji grabbed hold of you. “what the fu—“ your eyes blow wide. “what the fuck!”

toji was drenched in blood. face splattered, arms and clothes—

“are you okay?!” his hand held your face, looking over it.

“me? what’re you—look at yourself!” your eyes couldn’t catch up with all the blood. was it his?

“stop yelling!”

“you’re yelling!” you curse as toji holds your wrist dragging you into the apartment. his hands moving around grabbing alcohol as he began listing a bunch of things as you ran from your apartment to his, not having time to look around before running back and dropping everything on the table.

“what do I do?” your eyes were shifting from toji’s face and his heaving body. suddenly feeling a warm weight press on your head.

“deep breath,” his voice sunk into your mind, gaze meeting as you swallowed thickly. “you’re fine?”

“stop asking that—“

“you’re fine? right?” his stern words immediately sent a flutter swarming inside you.

“yes…I’m fine,” your brows pinched together as he brushed his thumb across . “who’s bloo—“

“not mine…” he sighs tilting his head back against the couch. “not all of it is mine.” he takes a deep breath, “cut my shirt,” you immediately grab the scissors, cutting open his shirt, swallowing at the bloodied clothes as it fell down. you’re eyes darted around his body, the multiple scars and tattoos facing you now, but the bullet wounds on his side stood out.

“I’m not a surgeon—“

“you’re a nerd, don’t you read books?” he quips. your face shifting into anger, “there there, don’t get wet on me. I’ll talk you through it,” toji held your face, you’re panicked eyes couldn’t wrap your head around this. “now grab that scalpel—“

this didn’t seem like the first time something like this had happened. but it was the first time he was asking someone for help. his eyes followed your face, you’d mumble back to him after every order. “liking science doesn’t make me a surgeon.”

“just a bratty nerd, gonna run your mouth all night?” toji tsked, “ow! fuck!”

“maybe remember who has the knife right now.”

“scalpel, dummy,” toji corrects.

“scalppel, dummy,” you mimic, rolling your eyes with a huff. toji had a mouth on him, but it really came out when you had to dig for the bullet in his side.

“sorry,” you cringe, watching toji fall back on the couch.

“forgot how clumsy your hands are,” he sighed, your hands were shaky and it wasn’t helping. but eventually you pulled out the bullet and continued listening to his instructions.

“are you usually this submissive?” he was patting your head, eyes half lidded as he watched you work. you were wearing your pajamas. it was past midnight, his eyes flickering up to see your show paused. it was a bad habit of yours, staying up late to binge show.

“just when you’re half dead,” toji snorts.

“worth it,” his eyes follow your concentrated face, nose scrunched up as you finish stitching his hip.

“why are you not explaining anything?” your eyes dart to catch his.

“you didn’t ask,” he maintains eye contact. his smile only causing you to raise a brow.

“why’re you smiling?” you cut the end of the suture.

“is that not allowed?”

“it’s creepy.”

“you don’t like anything I do,” he rests his head to the side, staring up at you as you cover his stitches.

“that’s no true,” you mumble, still focused on treating him.

“then tell me,” his hand reaches up, cupping your cheek.

“huh?”

“tell me what you like about me?” his body was exhausted, yet he still had time to make you feel anxious, butterflies swarming inside you.

“i-i…” your face was heating up, words getting caught in your throat. “maybe you tell me what you like about me first!”

“your head,” toji easily answers. you snort, only for him to continue. “you’re the smartest person I know.” his grin suddenly has your chest warming. “you’re a good teacher.” his hand slides down to hold your hand instead, playing with your small fingers. “you’re pretty cute when you help me out. you rant a lot, and go on about stuff that I don’t fully get, but it’s cute in its own way. especially when we’re together here and you get nervous when I—“

“stop!” toji looks up, heart swelling as he sees the flustered state he’s put you in. it was too easy. “why did you actually answer,” you’re looking down at your hands, the dried blood didn’t phase you.

“you asked.”

“I did but like…”

“not good with your feelings?” toji clicks his tongue.

“my feelings?!” you blurt, cheeks flushed. “you-you’re just…”

“just what?” his arms suddenly hoist you up, planting you on his lap.

“what’re you doing?” you yelp, holding his shoulders as he leans his head up, sly grin painted on his lips.

“nothing,” you almost blew a fuse. the fairy lights casted a shadow over his face, his pupils dilated, lips parted. why does he look so good right now? one second he was bleeding out on your couch, the other he’s fucking teasing you!

“don’t,” you cover your face quickly, trying desperately to control your breathing. if he had you…if you gave yourself up and he continued this life, you didn’t know if your heart could bare it. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” your words were muffled.

“this was the last time,” his hands wrapped around your small hands. “no more fighting.” you allowed him to see your flustered face. your lips wet and pouty, eyes half lidded. oh fuck. “that’s not the kind of face of someone that’s worried.”

“I am!”

“then why do I wanna kiss you right now?” your breath hitched, cueing the man to crash his lips against yours not wasting a single second.

your mind burst. stunned whines fall on deaf ears as toji holds your neck, thumb pressing up on your jaw, tilting your head as he devoured your lips. tongue slipping into your inviting lips as you held his wrist.

“you’re done?” you pant, “you’re done with that life?” toji kisses your lips again, the pecks expressing how much he’s longed for this. “will everything be okay?”

his lips trailed down the column of your neck. “I’ll make it okay,” he bit down on your shoulder causing a moan to slip out. “as long as you’re here.”

your hands pulled his face back up, lips attacking his once again. he smiled feeling your inexperience desperately crave for his attention, how cute. he helped your lips move with his, tongue playing as he held your hip against him, feeling his own arousal stir up.

“is it gonna hurt?” you mumble, fingers tangled in his hair.

“I’ll open you up, so you’re all wet and loose fer me. I’ll stretch you-“

“wait!” toji looks up. stunned to see your flustered expression. “I meant is it gonna hurt you? you’re the one who’s beaten up!” you blurt, still trying to wrap your head around what he’d just said. toji broke into loud laugh, cackling as he slipped his hands under your shirt.

“you’re so cute,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on the soft tissue as you whine. the man grins once he pulls away to see you chasing after his lips. his fingers dragging your shirt over your head.

your cheeks darken as you feel the breeze against your exposed chest. nipples perking up like good little buds.

“aww, you got all hard,” he cooes, almost sending you into a coma as he caresses the soft tissue. his hands were huge, molding your tits in his grip. thumbs circling the pretty pebbles.

“you’re staring too much,” you cower, hands going to his eyes, as toji chuckles.

“getting shy now?”

“no, just—stop staring, perve—ah,” your face twists, body almost convulsing as toji pinches your sensitive nipples, only to latch his lips around one. “what the—ahh, you’re,, hahh-ah you’re biting!”

your hands grip the back of his neck, hips lifting as he held your chest to his face, sucking dark bruises on your bouncy tits. his voice groaning as he stared up at you. so pretty…so pretty… he couldn’t stop. he wanted to see more. wanted to hear more. he needed to touch more.

“pullin my hair?” his chest rose and fell, cheeks flushed a dark pink as your fingers held the back of his head, holding him back with his hair.

“you just started touching me!” you were beyond flustered. your face and chest flushed, nipples so perky and wet, you looked so fucking gorgeous.

“I can leave.”

“will you?” your fingers loosened from his hair.

“no,” his lips ghosting your own. “i wanna kiss you. touch you…I wanna fuck you so good, sweetheart.” your legs tried to close, but you only pressed down on his lap. “you’d like that?” his lips curled up. it was too easy to read your body. “you’re still a virgin right?”

“you really do have a corruption kink!” you blurt, cheeks puffed. “ah-you’re always biting—toji!” your arms squeeze in, unconsciously pressing your tits together as your pretty voice rises. his teeth nibbling at your nipples again. only to lift you up, tossing you beside him.

“i only have one for you,” his lips trailed down your body, sucking and biting as you squirmed. fingers permanently in his hair as he relished in your rough pulling.

“how are you gonna open me up?” you use his words from earlier, panting softly as you held his hair. his eyes smiled as he licked his scar.

“how do you want me too?”

your cheeks were flushed, yet you’re able to suck up the courage to place your tongue between your middle and forefinger.

he kissed his teeth, “dirty fucking girl, who taught you that?” his dick throbbed in his pants watching you act up from how turned on you were.

“what if I’m not a virgin?” you didn’t know what you were saying, maybe you just wanted to see how he’d react. you didn’t expect his lips to curl into a sinister smile as you watched your shorts fly off your body.

“then I’ll have to fuck you until your pussy can only cum for me,” his lips licked your torso, biting down as you squirmed, whines music to his ears. “but looking at how drenched your cute panties are, I doubt you’re anything but a pretty little virgin desperate to get her pussy ate.”

“toji, you’re too foul mouthed,” you whine, contradicting your so called pride as your hips try to get him to go lower. pressing his head down.

“shit, you’re teasing me now,” he dropped his forehead on your belly, laughing as he rubbed the outside of your thighs, fingers curling around the pretty light pink panties. “let’s make you cry, baby.”

you gasped, toji ripping the material of your panties as he brought your panties up to his face. “these are cute,” he grins watching your face steaming.

“stop doing weird stuff!” you slap his chest lightly, afraid of hurting him.

“just complimenting you, pretty,” he inhales the material, causing you to cry in embarrassment. “fine, fine, I’ll do that on my own,” he teases.

“perve!” he opens your legs nice and wide for his eyes. pupils dilating to a high at the jaw dropping sight. you forget your embarrassment, caught off guard by his reaction. he was mesmerized.

“fuck baby, fuck you were hiding this for so long,” toji was audibly groaning at the sight. pre-cum staining his boxers as his big cock throbbed at the sight. your pussy was finally visible to his eyes, his rough hands keeping them open as he watched your gapping hole throb.

“toji! you’re so shameless!”

“me?” his tongue kissed his teeth. his thumb suddenly began circling your clit, your juices immediately coating it. “you’re absolutely drenched,” he’s had his fair share of ‘long nights’ yet not once has he encountered someone that’s made him so visibly aroused without touching him. “you’re fucking leaking, and I’ve barely even touched you.”

“toji—wai—ahh—uh!” your screams bounced off the small apartment walls as his lips latched onto your clit, sucking desperately. he was buried between your legs, nose deep in your pretty cunt as he sucked and lapped, moaned and whined, he can’t even recall a moment when he’s felt so fucking good. has eating pussy always made him this aroused? no…fuck, he was really hard…it was just you.

“you taste so good,” his eyes were glazed over as your fingers dug into his scalp. thighs tightening around his head as your back arched off the couch, crying out. he was humming in encouragement, egging you for more until the cord finally snapped.

“ ‘m cum—ah! ‘m cumming!” your body convulsed as toji drank everything up. his tongue inside your hole as you gripped his hair whining, riding out his flicking tongue. he didn’t stop after you finished. “toji!” you gasp, pushing his head away.

“that was just my tongue, need to stretch you now,” his lips sucked bruises on your inner thigh, trailing over your hipbone as you let him kiss you over and over.

“are you gonna put your fingers inside me?” you were panting, yet you couldn’t help the twitch between your legs. his lips curled, rubbing his middle and ring finger across your bottom lip.

“i know how much you like sucking them,” he cooes, watching your pulp lips part so obediently. “there’s my good girl,” his praises run straight down as you start to feel lightheaded. tongue lapping and swirling around his digits, it felt so nice having him inside your mouth. you couldn’t help but wonder how it’d feel to suck his dick. the weight in your mouth, his hand petting your head over and over. he was definitely big—

“my virgin baby likes to tease me,” he feels his dick straining in his pants. he replaces his fingers with his lips. his arm wrapping around your waist as your legs crossed behind his back, smiling once he leaned up, letting you sit back in his lap. his fingers ghosting your hole before carefully pushing in. his eyes went bright as he watched your lips part.

“feels good,” you hold his face, wiggling your hips as he pumps his fingers. fuck, she’s so cute!

your nails dig into his shoulder. it was easy moving you around, spreading your legs further to pump another finger inside, cheek flushing deep red as he had you cumming once more. the moans only getting higher and louder as your juices trickled down his hand.

“your pussy’s doing so well for me,” he praises, cupping your pussy, pressing his palm down, before raising it to give it a slap.

“ahh!” your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as he rubs your pussy some more. his thumb pulls at your bottom lip as you loll your tongue out, letting his tongue glide over.

your lips play with each other, allowing him to nibble and bite at your bottom lip enough to have you shivering and rocking your hips desperately. you’re out of breath as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your burning neck, before sucking another dark bruise.

“can I have it now?” you pant, so blessed out but so desperate for it

“it?” he teases, fingers digging into your ass as he grips your cheeks firmly, pressing you down on his fat bulge, rocking you over him.

“want it,” you bite his ear, holding his hand as you place it on your lower belly. “feels so empty without you,” you’re practically purring. “fill me up, toji.”

fuck!

toji swears under his breath, his pants on the ground and boxers tossed in a random direction as he lets his fat dick slap his tummy. your eyes gloss over at the pretty sight. his angry big cock glistening with his precum as it trickled down the bulging veins on the underside of his girthy length.

“now who’s staring, perv?” your cheeks flush at his words. toji scoops your dripping pussy as he wraps his strong hand around his thick dick as he begins pumping the pulsing ache. “keep yer eyes on me, pretty.”

“toji,” you whine as you shiver at how lewd he looked. face flushed, chest heaving as the tattoos accentuated his well sculpted body. his lips were parted as deep grunts flowed from his pretty lips.

“I’m so hard, fuck, you’re so fucking pretty, babygirl,” his head was tilting up to catch your lips again bringing your hand to his dick. his body shivering as your small soft hands wrapped around him. “good girl,” he cooes in bliss as you follow his movements.

his eyes watch your cute face staring at the way his cock twitches and leaks, hypnotized by the lewd scene. his stomach clenched, getting worked up. “keep looking at me like that and I’ll cum,” he pants, “i like when you stare at me.” you flush at his words.

“it’s big,” you mumble to yourself, lost in a trance you hadn’t noticed your words left your lips until toji drops his head back in laughter.

“need to make you feel all nice and snug, ya?” your thighs clenched around him. “wanna be a big girl and put it inside?” your head nodded immediately.

he helped you sit up, body hovering over his pulsing dick. is it gonna hurt? it’s so big! you want it inside you now! but how? “relax, y/n,” your eyes soften a bit at his call. his cock swiped through your wet folds, teasingly circling your tight entrance, before he held your hip with one hand and the other held your hand between your bodies as you squeezed it tight.

“ah, ‘s big, toji…toji—uh,” your whines were music to his ears, his dick only growing in size as you struggled to take just his tip.

“your pussy is squeezing me baby, relax,” he squeezed your hip in reassurance, only for your nails to dig into his hand as your eyes glossed over, panting heavier.

“it hurts…feels good tho….ah ah i—toji!” your face was pressed into his neck, absolutely stunning the man. did you just?

“I’m barely half way in, pretty” toji’s voice sent aftershocks as you shivered from your unexpected orgasm. “you’ve ever fucked yourself?”

“just played with my clit,” you mutter in embarrassment, averting your gaze.

“fuck me” his heart was beating as his cock pulsed. he was the first to be inside you, his hips jerked up unconsciously.

you whined, wiggling your hips as toji’s body caught on fire as he suddenly lifted you up. your eyes widening as your hands gripped his shoulders, stunned at his crazy strength. “sorry baby, I can’t hold back anymore.”

“huh? to—toji!” your scream pierced the air as he dropped your entire weight down on his dick, snuggling his full length in your warm tight cunt. your eyes rolled back in absolute bliss.

“shit! you’re squeezing me to death,” his body didn’t stop. it seemed like you’d forgotten how he was when he fights. even though the man was just shot and endured minutes of stitching, he had enough stamina to fuck you long and hard.

his cock squelching every time he thrusted. letting your pretty tits bounce in his face as he bit and sucked. the slight red that trickled down to the white cream base that decorated his cock had him going absolutely feral.

“lost your little virginity,” toji groans, you were squeezing him so tight. he’s dreamt of this for so long. squeezing your ass as he fucked up into you, slapping your ass every couple of seconds to hear the way you cry out his name, tears hitting his face.

he’s been dreaming of this. every time he’d stay up late with you, as much as he enjoyed solving your old homework and learning, he couldn’t help his mind from pondering when he’d finish. gazing up briefly to see your cute little face scrunched up in concentration, how much he wanted to bite your cheek, kiss your pouty lips.

“ so good…feel ‘s good, to…ah! uh uh! toji!” your high pitched screams were so beautiful. he didn’t care about the neighbors, or the noise complaints, not a single thing mattered other than wrecking the absolute shit out of the girl he’s been pinning over for months and months. he’s never felt so good inside someone. it was worth the torture of seeing you wearing you’re cute little shorts all the time, your tank tops that couldn’t hold in your tits all the way. the cute way you’d yell and tease him back.

“do you wanna cum for me, princess?”

“I wanna….yes…more please!” you were practically drooling as he let a glob of spit slip past your lips as you immediately came around his length. his cock was as hard as can be, holding your waist as he fell to the carpet floor, blanket falling to the ground as he laid you down, the pillow under your lower back. he pumped his dick between your legs as you panted, only to let out a loud gasp as he snapped his hips back inside.

“good girl, want all your pretty juices,” he praised. “fuck, I can’t live without you! so good, uh pretty girl,” his mind was so empty, the only things keeping him conscious was how much he needed you. his hand pinned both your arms above your head as he pounded into your squelching cunt.

“arch yer back, pretty,” you obey immediately, listening to the fighter as he groaned, feeling himself slide deeper. “atta girl.” your vision blurred the more pleasure toji pulled from you. “pretty girl, ugh, eyes on me,” he lets go of your hands, grabbing your face. “on me.”

your mind was so blissed out, his arms gripping under your knees, as he angled your hips higher, kneeling closer to your body as your ass slapped against his thick thighs, fat cock pounding your insides, kissing your cervix over and over. your arms splayed over your head as your back arched up, nails digging into the blanket underneath.

“taking my dick so well, uh, stretching ya out like a good fucking slut,” his chest was flushed, muscles flexing as your fingers went to pull him closer to you.

“I want more,” your words are slurred, eyes blinking with fat tears as you run your hands through his king raven hair, pulling him down closer as you take one of his pretty hands placing it on your lower belly. “want your cummy…toji…want it all inside me,” his cheeks beat red feeling his fat print bulging in your tummy.

“fuck,” his cock tightened, face scrunching as he felt your legs squeeze him. “don’t—don’t say things like that, baby.” his pace didn’t stop, keeping it rough and fast. the obscene noises only made your thoughts more hazy.

“I want it! ah ahh fill me up! want all of it, please!” your cries rang through the room as the man lost all vision. he wanted so desperately to paint your insides with his hot white cum. what would that feel like? to let go inside your untouched walls, to fill you with every drop of his heavy load—

“shit y/n!” toji bit down on your shoulder, groaning into your skin as you cried loudly, bucking your hips up meeting his thrusts as he cursed. “stop it baby,” he was desperately trying to hold onto his sanity, but you were making it too difficult.

your cries reached another pitch that he’s realized happens before you cum. rolling his hips into your pussy walls, your eyes practically crossed, drool sliding down your lips.

“shit! I’m so lucky,” he cursed, stunned by the shock, only to feel t your pussy clench desperately around him as your body shook, squirting clear liquid onto him.

“wanna be full, cum inside me, toji,” your legs locked around him, stopping him from escaping allowing his body to suddenly convulse. letting out a guttural groan feeling his abs constrict.

his head dropped against your own as he felt himself empty into your tight cunty. you rocked your hips with his as you milked out so much cum from his generous cock.

“so much, pretty boy,” you cooed, petting his hair as he groaned, burying his face in your neck as he continued cumming. he had so much for you, and you’d begged for it so sweetly, he couldn’t leave you empty until you were completely full.

“fuckin minx,” he licked the bite marks that decorated your neck. “take everything I’m giving you,” his chest heaved as he pushed himself up, meeting your lips. “you forced my hand, pretty.”

“kiss me more,” your lips caught his as he returned your sloppy kiss. tongues molding as he shivered, feeling you clench from the overstimulation.

he slowly pulled out, eyes half lidded at the sight of his cum oozing from your twitching hole. he almost passed out, but could only drop to your belly kissing it over and over as he pushed his cum back in. your fingers tangled in his hair, easily grabbing his attention as he crawls back up to you. your arms automatically wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“ya liked getting your pussy all filled up?” toji soothes his hands down your spine as you held him close.

“it was…” the sarcasm and rough exterior immediately fizzled. you felt so good right now. “nice,” you licked your lips, brushing them over his as his eyes fluttered. “don’t leave me, okay?” your sweet voice had toji blinking, before his eyes softened.

“I’ll die before I ever leave you,” he nudged his nose with yours, lips pressing firmly as you hugged him close. “you scared?” he felt your body shaking, suddenly growing worried.

your head shakes, “no….”

“y/n? baby, why’re you crying?” he was worried, his heart squeezing as he tried his best to wipe the falling tears.

“I’m not,” you sniffle, desperately trying to keep your composure, which only had your nose running and your eyes glaze even more. you looked so cute, is all he could think, but why’re you crying?

“you’re only allowed to cry about my big dick,” toji sighs, holding you close as he sits back against the couch on the floor. smiling when you break out into a laugh.

his chest rises and falls, closing his eye to rest his head back. your lips quiver, eyes looking over his tired body. fingers trailing over his tattoos, feather light touches as he begins to fall asleep.

“toji?” your soft voice calls him as you rest your head on his shoulder.

“hmm?” toji’s eyes are still closed, but he squeezes your hip to show that’s he’s listening.

“do you want to go to school?” your words are calm and collected, yet your heart is beating incredibly fast. you want him to get his degree, to pursue something he’s good at. though you’re pretty good at science, toji beats you in math. you didn’t know how he got to certain conclusions, yet it was all accurate.

“I want to be with you,” his words sent a fuzzy feeling inside, but you push it aside.

“seriously.”

“I’m being serious,” he blinks, eyes open. “you’re enough for me…” his words trail off. you’re silent for a moment, it seems like he was going to continue— “but I need to support you some way.” he smiles, pulling you closer. “think I can get my degree?”

your cheek flare as your eyes brighten big, toji flushed at your reaction as you nod excessively, making him laugh.

“cmere,” his hands bring you back to his lips. “I want more, all the time,” he sighs, licking your tongue.

“possessive much,” you try to hide your smile.

“very,” he squeezes you close. almost causing you to pass out until he gets comfortable. “now sleep.” he sighs, “I think I lost all my energy cumming half my existence inside your greedy fuckin cunt.”

“d-don’t say that!” you exclaim.

“It’s funny,” he laughs, tired eyes blinking to stay awake. “but your still leaking.”

you push off him, unable to take all this embarrassment, stumbling to your feet. “I’m gonna shower,” you huff, limping to the bath— “what! what’re you—“ you felt your body loose gravity, suddenly dangling in the air.

“you can’t even walk straight,” toji grunts, holding his side as he had you up in one arm.

“you’re bleeding through the bandages!” you gasp, seeing the blood trickle from the stitches you’d just sown. you struggle to get free.

“stop moving or I’ll open up the stitches.”

“what kind of—?!” you immediately shut up, brows pinched as toji dropped you in the bathroom, holding the sink as he winced. “I thought it wasn’t bad??”

“it wasn’t,” he turns on your shower. “but I couldn’t hold myself back when we were fucking.” he steps in, letting out a deep sigh as the water cascades over his body. the blood, sweat, and other fluids running down his sculpted legs and into the drain.

“we shouldn’t have done anything then—“

“I was too hard, something was gonna happen,” he extended his wet hand out. waiting for you. “cmon, don’t make that face.” your face is scrunched up in guilt and frustration.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt—“

“you said that already,” he grabs your wrist, pulling you inside. you hiss at the sudden water splashing on you.

“you only listen when you feel like it,” you tilt your head up, eyes rolled in annoyance only for toji to grab your cute cheeks and squeeze your face so your lips were jutting out in a cute pout.

“I always listen, so don’t be so worried,” he kisses your cheeks, reaching over for the shampoo. “now let’s clean you up.”

it didn’t fully dawn on you until you were laying under your soft comforter, warm body snugged close against you, face buried in your hair as his large arms held your back close to his chest. his hot breath even. but he was here. turning over, you gazed at his face, snuggling closer to him.

“toji” you whisper softly. It was a high possibility that he was fully knocked out now, but your fingers couldn’t stop caressing his cheek. his black lashes resting on his cheeks as his lips part with each soft breath. “I’ll do my best for you,” your own eyes starting to grow heavy. “so trust me, please.” your lips part to exhale.

“okay,” his lips gently press to your forehead. “I already chose you.”

---

𖨆♡𖨆 ran haitani x fem!reader, hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ yearning for revenge after the untimely death of your father, you come to discover an underground organization called bonten and how its executive may have all the answers you need. the big catch? you were the first ever girl that broke his heart.

: ̗̀➛ explicit smut, mentions of a murder, guns, mentions of drugs, fear play, prostitution, mention of heights, daddy kink, creampie, mild exhibitionism, pet names (princess), spit kink, murder, blood, gore, torture, joint breaking, angst, mentions of a past relationship, mentions of a body disposal, slut-shaming, language, smoking, drinking, MDNI

masterlist 🌙

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐊 #𝟏

The air tonight tasted of electricity, its charge sparking in your bloodstream.

Fidgeting in your skintight dress and boots, you wondered if you were a little overdressed considering how some of the girls milled around in skirts that barely covered their asses and crop tops that were just the barest suggestion of clothes upon their frames.

The bass boosting through the floors mimicked the palpitation of your heart and you steeled yourself, looking both ways before you crossed the street.

So, this was the infamous Haitani bar that everyone from your roommate, Kira, to her pimp was talking about. You could see why it generated much intrigue.

On the outside, the facade suggested a modest office building that boasted a helipad at its very top, like a flat cap over a square head. Rumour has it that the Haitanis liked to arrive to their own bar not in cars or even limos—but through their own private helicopter which gives them discreet entrance. The top floor, especially, was a cordoned-off area where only those who had a special pass could enter.

That, or to go in disguised as one of the many prostitutes Ran and Rindou hired to keep spirits up and the booze flowing all night long.

You had to hand it to them; those Haitani brothers were exceptionally good businessmen.

Tugging the hem of your dress down, you approached the bouncer who let you through with barely a glance at your ID. You frowned inwardly; shouldn’t security here be at its maximum capacity?

After all, Ran and Rindou were two of the most important Bonten executives—a position so feared that even the most hardened pimp would shudder at the name of Japan’s most notorious criminal organisation.

Downstairs, people were packed like sardines, girls hanging off random men’s laps or dancing in groups like a shoal of fish, bait for the sharks that lurked around the rooms.

You weren’t excused from their leering stares and kept your head down, sole mission in mind. In the elevator, you called for the highest level, the numbers on the keypad blinking every time you rose one floor higher. To calm yourself for what you had to do, you reached inside your purse for the faded photograph; your father’s smile bright in the palm of your hand.

I’ll do this for you, dad, was your silent promise. The elevator dinged and you walked towards the cordoned-off bar where the crowds were nonexistent, and all that stood between you and finding Ran Haitani was one stern looking bouncer. His muscles rippled almost threateningly under his suit, staring you up and down.

“No one is allowed to enter.”

You took in a deep breath and spoke in a low, but clear voice. “Haitani-san hired me.”

The guard arched a brow. “Which Haitani?”

Somehow, it felt like a trick question and when you answered Ran, it seemed that you had failed the test.

“Mr. Haitani is not the one that deals with hookers,” he all but growled, and despite the streaks of grey in his hair and noticeable age, you sensed without a doubt that he was able to manhandle you and toss you over the balcony railing if he so wished to.

Holding your ground, you gritted your teeth and forced out: "There must be some kind of mistake. I was requested to be here.”

The guard had evidently grown tired of this back and forth; he approached you and gripped your arm tightly, pushing you towards the elevator door. “Let go of me!” Your hunch was proven right; he was incredibly strong and did not let up, not even when you dug your heels in to impede him.

“I won’t tell ya again, miss,” he growled. “Please leave before I throw you off the fucking building myself.”

“One of his clients told me to be here!" You fought back, the desperation clawing up your throat.

His scowl deepened and a vein was threatening to pop from his temple. “Last chance. You’re gonna have to leave, miss.”

You physically and literally held your ground, gripping the railing with white knuckles. “Not until I see him.”

“Miss, I won’t ask you twice—“

“What’s going on here?”

As if he had turned to jelly, the guard released you and quickly folded into a bow. “Mr. Haitani, sir—“ you didn’t hear his babbling, your mind struggling to comprehend the deepness of that voice and how it brought back a surge of memories you could not ignore.

A smug smile, long, bleached-black hair that you loved running your fingers through, nights spent raiding the closest convenience stores, an empty phone log…

“… Ran?”

A beat of silence as he took in your face before the recognition set in.

“Y/N?”

He was different—no scratch that, he didn’t even look like his old self. Gone were the twin braids and dip-dyed bleached hair. Now, he sported a full hair of light purple locks that contrasted vividly with the frown that was etched on his face and the tattoo peeking underneath the collar of an expensive suit.

Before you could open your mouth, he reached out and gripped your shoulder, steering you towards the bar’s entrance.

“She’s with me.”

“I’m so sorry, Haitani-san, I—“ the guard’s splutters were not to be heard; Ran waved him off and trailed those hardened lilac eyes onto you. The press of his palm was warm on your bare skin.

“Didn't anyone warn you that this his bar isn’t a place for girls like you?”

You were surprised to say the least. It seemed as if those five years that you spent separated from him dissolved into nothing; he still spoke to you in that same infuriating manner like you hadn’t ghosted him out of the blue—like you hadn’t broken his heart.

“Girls like me?” For your credit, you were still as argumentative as ever. As his hard gaze bore into yours, you realised some things never changed.

Ran Haitani would always treat you like you were an errant child.

“My men are armed to the teeth and you could have walked out of here with more than a bruise,” was his retort. Your indignant anger faded a little when you eyed the tasteful bar decorations. It seemed like a different world existed up here compared to the crowded dance floor below. There was no thumping music, no drugs and no sharks waiting for you to let your guard down. Rather, bossa nova jazz music filtered over the speakers; even the people here were classier than you anticipated—all suits and dresses that tastefully showed off skin.

You stuck out like a sore thumb in your black bodycon and boots, and it appears you were not the only person who was aware of it. The women eyed you up and down, though the men were more discreet. But the one thing they all had in common? The moment it registered that Ran Haitani was beside you, all their gazes fell to the floor.

He led you to the outside bar where a few people mingled around, smoking cigars and joking amongst themselves in low tones. Ran chose a table closest to the balustrades. Immediately, two well-dressed waiters arrived to wipe down the table, set down some snacks as well as a bottle of whiskey—glowing almost amber in the half-light.

That bottle alone look like it could’ve cost more than your rent.

You sat down opposite him and watched as he removed a packet of cigarettes and a metal lighter. The click of it was loud in the silence and you didn’t know what compelled you to blurt out your next sentence, but it came out without a second thought, and you had to suffer the repercussions of his disbelief.

“Your guard didn't believe me when I told him I was a prostitute."

Those impassive lilac hues flickered onto you. “What?”

As if explaining yourself to a child, you spelled it out for him. “I’m a hooker, Ran.”

For a long moment, he did not speak. He reached forward to uncap the whiskey bottle, poured himself a cup and sat back in the plush chair. There was nothing on his face that indicated any real emotion he had towards his ex-girlfriend being in an unsavoury position, nor did he make fun of you for your new occupation. All he did was frown and said: “How’d that happen? You always said you wanted to go to business school and you’re pulling this type of shit?”

Something about the way he phrased that sentence made it feel like a slap to your face. “You don’t have to sound like my dad, Haitani.”

If there was one strange power you had over the feared Haitani brother, it would be the ability to make his blood boil with just a few words. "Huh? Do you need money? Is there someone pimping you out? What’s his name?”

You hadn’t expected him to launch into his righteous anger on your behalf, and you sat back, wide-eyed.

For Ran, he was in disbelief over how you had turned out in the five short years he lost contact with you. He had always admired your vision of climbing the corporate ladder and how you had mapped out the future together with him even knowing full well the dark path he had taken to build Bonten from the ground up together with his younger brother and a few other chosen men.

But, that was when you both were still fresh-faced twenty year olds and a novice to the hardships of life. In those years when you left him, he had climbed the ranks and claimed many, many lives to do so. His blood ran dirty with all the futures he had destroyed and you…

How did you end up like this?

You were always such a sweet thing; concern for others outweighing your need for self-preservation. A girl like you did not belong on the streets and the both of you knew it.

“I work for myself, Ran,” you clarified and he had to stop himself from shivering at how his name sounded on your lips. “I choose who I work with, when and how much I charge them.”

He was still at a loss, and the glass of whiskey he had ached for the whole evening seemed like contaminated water in this instance. Ran pushed it back and raised one perfectly groomed brow.

“Why?”

You fiddled with your fingers and stared out towards the scenery. If Ran had to choose one spot he could easily lose himself in, it would be this place. Rindou’s strategic choice of a bar faced the Tokyo skyline; from his perch, he could map out the outline of the Tokyo Exchange Building, a stout cube in the heart of the city. He could trace the rail lines, the jagged edges of the district of Roppongi where he and Rindou once reigned supreme.

“I… lost my dad,” you confessed. Similarly, he found himself at a loss too for what to say, his expression carefully construed to remain neutral. “He died shortly before we broke up. I… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t know how to say it.”

The young executive tipped his whiskey around the glass and took a drag of his cig, unable to look you in the eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he eventually said and followed up with another question which you could not easily answer.

“Is that why you dumped me?”

After five years of wondering, five years of searching out for answers and wracking his brain for something he might have done to piss you off, Ran was finally graced with the faltering of your expression.

He recalled stepping out of the elevator aching for a drink only to be confronted by the sight of someone who held the shape of you, a shape he could always easily map out even in the darkness. His heart had soared, but he tamed down the excitement, reasoning that of course it could not be you; he had done everything in his power to seek you out in those 1825 days he spent without you, where it seemed like you had dropped off the face of the earth.

Little did he know how the past could show up unannounced when one stopped searching for it. He still was not done trying to flay it apart and find out the truth.

“No, wait, scratch that,” his voice was rising in anger. “Is that why you ghosted me and blocked me on everything so I couldn’t reach out to you?”

You had always known Ran Haitani to wear his signature smirk; no matter if he was beating people up, stealing food from convenience stores or even bashing up boys taller than him with his baton; that same infuriating smile never faltered.

Until now.

Only you boasted the power to make the ever smug Ran Haitani drop his impassive facade to reveal a deep scowl. The words you practiced to explain to him all that had transpired in the past five years today seemed to elude you.

You could not reply to his interrogative questions and Ran sighed, cutting to the heart of things. “Why are you here?”

You bristled at his tone and glared towards the city view, involuntarily annoying him with your shifty reply and inability to tell him the truth.

“To enjoy the night sky.”

“No, fuck,” he gritted out and you held your breath. “Why are you really here, Y/N?”

A tremble of uncertainty passed between the both of you.

Fuck it. I'll just ask to see what his reaction is.

“I need a favour.”

Silence descended between both your tense forms. You had no idea what he was thinking or what his sudden loss of words entailed. All you sensed was that it didn’t bring you any good news.

But inwardly, you understood the gravity of what you were doing.

Picture this: you had a woman you swore to protect, to stay true to her because you both were madly in love with each other and one day, seemingly for no reason, she disappears and doesn’t pick up her phone or even answer her messages. What would you have done?

You knew, in the deepest pits of your conscience, that you were shameless; that you were nothing but a cold-hearted and calculating bitch for badgering a wounded man from your past for help when it was all your fault you turned out this way.

“A favour, eh?” He put out his cigarette and stared at you unblinkingly. “I'll give you a chance to ask it when you answer me this: How did a nice girl like you end up working the streets?"

You frowned at the accusatory tone he wore and glanced back down at your twined hands. “I…”

Your ex-boyfriend’s words were cutting you right down to the bone and you fought back the urge to cry. If it had been five long years Ran spent searching for a woman who had already lost herself, so what did he expect to find?

That you were the same girl who used to sing oldies in the middle of your shared kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt? Or, that you could coo over his wounds and patch them up, scolding him lightly to prioritise his safety?

No. That Y/N died the day you found your father in a pool of his own blood.

“I changed, Haitani.”

It seemed that Ran did not believe you. “Sure you did.”

Finally, you divulged the piece that was lingering in your mind, the final one that would give a full picture of the puzzle as to what happened in all those years you cut off contact with him.

“You would, too, if your father was murdered.”

A stifling quiet. “Huh?” Ran’s lilac eyes were piercing and all but shining with grim curiosity. “What happened?”

This was it. The final piece of the jigsaw puzzle you kept hidden from him; the pièce de résistance of how you ended up from being a good, hardworking girl to a scummy bedwarmer.

“I came back home one day after class and… our house had been broken into. H-he was in the kitchen—“ you spared the gory details and he did not press you for it. Instead, Ran lit one cigarette and passed it to you. You accepted it and breathed in the nicotine like it was fresh air, hoping that it would clear your mind.

“I'm sorry,” he said gruffly and followed your gaze towards Tokyo unfurling before your feet. You did not accept his apology, tears glimmering in your eyes from the unsuspecting pain still lingering in your soul. How you still were not over your father's death despite the years that had passed you by.

“But what I don’t get is why didn’t you tell me?”

If you could compare Ran’s anger to a flame, it would be a slow flickering light over a vat of gasoline. Sure, he was the most trigger happy brother, but he did it out of the genuine thrill of taking down his enemies—because certainty of what was black and white was always his constant companion. And in this instance, Ran did not know who was a friend or who was a foe.

“You fucking disappeared into thin air, Y/N.” A heavy disquiet fell over the both of you. “I searched for you, y’know? Thinking that it was a mistake; that you didn’t mean to leave. I wanted answers but the more I searched and dug up shit I realised something… maybe some answers just don’t want to be found.”

You took another drag of the cigarette, trying to keep the tremble out from your tone and hide your wet eyes by keeping your gaze off him. “I didn’t do it out of spite, Ran.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

That lachrymose needing to burst out into tears would not survive the truth. “I can’t answer that for now.”

Ran’s grip tightened around his glass. “So you think you can waltz in here, demanding to see me and I would give you everything you need? Stop the whole world for you again like how I used to?”

Anger flared through your chest, hot and insistent.

“Fuck—I’m not asking you to save me, Haitani! I’m just… I just wanna know…” your voice fell into a whisper and so did your hope. “I just wanna know who killed my dad and why... why’d they have to do it.”

You would have thought he would be more sympathetic, and not say, “He wasn’t a good man, Y/N. I know this because if he was, he wouldn’t have gone out that way.”

Part of you couldn’t believe he had said that, but this was Ran Haitani you were talking about; a man of rationalism and bruteness. His occupational hazard was leaving men like your poor father in that state. You pressed on.

“That’s why I needed to see you. To ask if you knew something.”

Those usual sleepy lilac eyes turned hardy like stone. “No.”

You could barely believe he was doing this, the anger coating the back of your throat. The city’s lights wavered in your periphery from your tears of desperation.

“W-what? What do you mean 'no'?”

He stood up, and people were glancing at the both of you; the crestfallen look on your face and the disproving one on his indicative of an argument. If you were in the right frame of mind, your cheeks would've warmed from how the both of you were causing a scene.

“I don’t know anything. Sorry. Can’t help you.”

Before you could hammer in your plea, he took his jacket off the chair and slung it over his arm, unable to even look at you.

“Wait—please!”

You stood up and rushed to his side, gripping his sleeve. A few women gasped at your audacity. It appeared you were gathering an even bigger audience from your stupid stunt—even the waiters carrying drinks and food paused in their tracks.

Ran ignored each of them and coolly glanced down at you with those infuriatingly beautiful eyes. He tugged his arm away and sneered down at your betrayed expression.

“Y/N, this isn’t something you want to get into.”

You grasped onto that little glimmer of truth he had unwillingly divulged, the wobble in your lower lip unmistakable.

“So, you do know something. You know who could have done this.”

Apparently, he registered his slip-up and he turned his face to glare at the ground, a mirthless chuckle leaving his lips. “I told you. I’m clueless.”

“Stop fucking treating me like a child, Ran!” Your outburst caught even you off guard and the air suddenly became stifling, despite the open sky staring down at your fury.

“You’ve always been like this! Y/N don’t do this or Y/N stop that like I’m some kind of—helpless child. I’m not, Haitani. I’ve seen shit." You were beyond desperate, trying to convince him to tell you the truth by giving up parts of your gory life for him to review.

"I’ve seen a man get shot where he stood, police dragging out mutilated bodies of the girls I work with from dumpsters—so many fucked up things. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t even know the truth when I... when I became like this just to find it!”

He did not entertain your callous words, lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry." At least he gave you the courtesy of a final apology before turning around to walk away.

“Haitani—“

You ran after him and gripped his arm, refusing to let him go.

In your mind, the images of your father's mangled body flashed, exacerbating your exasperation.

“Fuck!” he snarled, wrenching his arm away and staring down at you with such a virulent expression, you were almost scared if you didn't know that Ran Haitani was physically incapable of hurting you. “I’ll say this one last time, Y/N—drop this now before it’s too late.” The tension swirled around both your taut figures, taunting you with the urge to lean in and bridge the gap.

Unadulterated stubbornness clashed with the sudden gleam in his eye. You were close enough to smell the whiskey and nicotine on his breath.

Your baser instincts took over, your body trying to convince him in a way your words could not.

“Y/N—mmph.”

Your lips collided with his, hands clawed to the front of his shirt, pulling him in deeper. It wasn’t a seduction as it was a last desperate pitch to get him to listen—and the only way Ran would ever listen to you was when he was quiet. He drew you closer, one hand around your neck and the other on the small of your back. The air in the bar got thicker and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drinking the familiarity of his solid body pressed to yours. He pulled back slightly, lips swollen and shook his head, a lazy and exasperated smirk worming its way across those delectable lips.

“You’re so infuriating.” As he spoke, he found your zipper, dragging it down and you squeaked, darting your eyes towards the group of spectators who were all but gawking. Ran was brazen, but he wouldn’t be as bold to fuck you in front of a bunch of people… right?

Ran followed your line of sight and clicked his tongue, understanding your silent mortification.

“Fuck off! The bar’s closed!” he called over the easy music. As if he were a king decreeing his rigid word, the bouncers ushered the patrons away from the balcony, the lights dimmed low and even the employees were forced to leave the premises. The head guard bowed to him, closing the doors with a resolute click. Just from his bidding alone, the both of you were left alone.

Suddenly, all your bravery had dried up and you glanced down at his broad chest, unable to meet his eyes.

“Not so bold now, huh, princess?” he drawled and like a cat toying with a mouse, he cornered you against the balustrade with both arms caged around your body.

It was too quiet, the air too thick with electricity. You swallowed hard and looked up into those eyes you had found solace in so many times before your world was turned on its head. There was no denying it—you missed him with every fiber of your body and the beat of lust that had ignited from his lips on yours roared into a fire that threatened to incinerate the rest of your self-control.

“We’re alone now,” he murmured, running his nose down your neck, inhaling your light scent. “Was this your plan all along?”

“No,” the quake in your voice seemed like you were lying.

“You know I don’t like liars, Y/N,” he said, voice gravelly and deep, causing shivers to run down your spine. He was far too close, his indulgent scent of coffee, musk and tobacco was seeping into your every pore; you could not stop yourself from pitching forward and pressing your face to his neck to hide the wobble in your lower lip.

Ran sighed and irritably flicked his jacket onto the floor, the material making a heavy thud sound.

The press of his warm palms on the small of your back deteriorated the last of your hesitation.

“Ran…” you licked your dry lips, finding a shred of courage to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Want it.”

“Want what?” His purring deep tone made your knees weak. If it weren’t for the cool stone and his arms around you, you would’ve melted onto the ground to join his pristine jacket.

Lower lip trembling and thighs clenching, you whispered, “I want you.”

Ran’s reaction was instantaneous. He picked you up by your thighs and placed you onto the balustrade where a ten-floor drop yawned below you. Squeaking in fear, you involuntarily wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his chest again.

“Ran—!”

“Don’t worry, baby,” he moaned, kissing down your neck. “Ain’t gonna drop you.”

Those hot stamps in the shape of his lips were messing with your resolve and you groaned, head was thrown back, only the steel ropes of his arms and your thighs tensing around his waist anchoring you to safety. If you were a ship besieged in the middle of the storm, Ran was the roiling sea under you, ready to suck you into his depths.

“Someone can see us,” you hissed, knowing full well that if any passersby looked up, they would catch sight of two lovers on the balcony. He hummed, shaking his head with that shit-eating grin still etched across his lips.

“Baby, Rin and I own this bar. They ain’t seeing anything. ‘Sides, if they open their mouths, they won’t live to tell the tale.”

The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your eyes and you squeezed them closed, tilting your head back once he reached the valley of your breasts. Growling like a lion who had been held too long in captivity, he tugged the stretchy fabric down, exposing the lacy bra you wore to his heated stare.

“Shit,” he swore and planted more of those pussy-clenching kisses down the length of your throat.

“Ran,” you mewled, the heel of your boots digging into his lower back. Lost in his touch, you almost didn’t feel him tip you back, and you screamed once you felt the near loss of gravity, wildly scrambling to bury your white-knuckled grip in the back of his vest and hair.

“Ran!”

He secured his arms tighter around your waist, chuckling lowly into your ear. “Look at you—such a filthy little slut who wants my cock so badly she doesn’t care if she’ll fall.”

Rather than cowering in fear, his words served to heighten your arousal and you humped your drooling core across his cloth-covered bulge, trying your best to get as much friction as you could onto your aching pussy. “Oh, please,” you whimpered, pawing at his tie, removing it swiftly and throwing it down onto the cobblestone floor. Panting lightly, you managed to mutter, “N-need this.”

You hastily unbuttoned his vest to expose the crisp white dress-shirt he wore, making quick work of the first three buttons. Your mouth chartered a path from his chin to his neck, sloppily working in kisses mingled with frantic sucks of his skin, leaving reddened spots close to his gang tattoo. Trembling fingers touched the design, remembering the first day he came back home to eagerly show you the press of ink in his skin. 

We’re gonna be rich, baby.

The both of you had seemed so young back then and a part of you ached for an innocence that was gone too soon.

His low groans resonated in your ear and you squeaked again when he used one arm to hold you fast to his chest while the other wormed its way under the hem of your dress, feeling for your panties. Catching two nimble fingers on the seat of the flimsy material, you felt him twist it and before you could stop him—

Riiiip.

As if your panties were nothing more than a sugar in hot water, they disintegrated into lacy tatters on the floor.

“Those were my favourite pair,” you moaned when he returned the favour and bit down on the delicate skin behind your ear.

“Fuck—will get you new ones,” he breathed heavily, tongue tracing the shell of your sensitive lobe. “I'll get you a whole wardrobe of lacy, naughty things. You want that?”

You murmured something that sounded like yes Daddy and he grinned, already loving how easily you slipped into your submissiveness. If there was one thing Ran loved more than anything in the world, it would be to bend you over anywhere he wished—over his knee, the head of the couch, even pressing you onto the hood of his car—and take you then and there. You were always such a pliant, sweet, little thing for him, and it made his blood boil to think of how much you had denied him in these past five years.

Rough hands tugged down the cups of your lacy bra, palming the plush flesh of your breasts. “Missed these fucking tits,” he muttered lewdly and before you could chastise him, he bent his head forward, almost tilting you at a dangerous angle just to latch his mouth onto your nipple. Your heart was beating wildly, your hair flowing freely in the wind. Every stroke of his tongue on your tender buds made you moan wantonly, and all you could do was stare at that angelic face and sinful mouth working one turgid nub and then another with that maddening tongue, your nipples soon shiny with spit.

In the half-dark, the sharp points were silhouetted against the city lights obscenely. A soft hum indicated he was pleased with his handy work.

He tugged you closer to his chest and attacked your mouth, numbing your complaints with those maddening kisses. Ran held your bottom lip open with that same hand that ripped your panties and a globe of spit left his mouth and dripped onto your waiting tongue. The instruction was implicit: Swallow. You did, an obedient plaything to his wills.

“Bet you liked that, don’t you, you little slut?” he crooned and your cheeks flushed, your hand moving down to cup the front of his slacks.

“Stop teasing,” you huffed and he grinned widely.

His free hand wandered down your thigh, finding your bare pussy, gently rubbing your already soaked lips.

“Ran—!”

He sensed your hesitance to accept his ministrations when your body tensed and he pressed his forehead to yours, lilac locks tickling the bridge of your nose.

“Give in fully to me, baby.”

You didn’t answer him, on a high from how he was tracing your folds, the gentle way he dipped his index finger teasingly into your clenching hole.

“Mm, your pussy seems to want this,” in a firm but silky tone, “I know you want this.”

You did not have to answer him; your arched back and the ripple of your walls around his intrusive finger more than gave him enough of an answer. “Gonna make up for not fucking you in those five years.”

You were close to a delirious fever pitch, needing him to finally fuck you. “Ran, more—please.”

“Already begging?” He slipped another finger in, instantly finding your sweet spot and pressing down on it. Hard. “Hmm, so eager.”

You jolted as if you were touched by a live wire. “Want you!” In a softer, supplicant tone you whined, “Need you—please.”

Ran could not say no, especially when you begged so nicely. He unbuttoned his slacks and slipped his hard length out, the familiar curve, veins and head making you almost salivate with joy. In one swift thrust, he sheathed himself into your heat, the both of you moaning with relief.

He swore that you looked like a fallen angel in that moment; your flushed cheeks, wide eyes, bare tits that jiggle with every slam of his pelvis into yours, getting him to almost believe in God.

Almost.

Your eyes were closed, head lolling back and he sensed that if he let you go and you fell to your demise, you would probably die with a satisfied grin on your face. But, of course, he wouldn’t do it—Ran Haitani would be a fool to let his favorite plaything go.

“My cock got you drunk, baby?” That low, rasping voice gave you goosebumps and all you could do was mewl, hands tangling with his lilac locks, your desperate gaze pinning him to the spot with begrudging awe. Years of knowing every dip, divot and curve on your body made him keenly aware of the cues you would give off—his most favorite green light in the world, one that signaled you were close to a release.

“You gonna cum for me like this?” One hand found your clit, strumming it in time with his clean thrusts. “Gonna cream all over my cock in front of the whole city?”

“M’gonna—“ Cut off by a choking moan, all you could do was squeeze your eyes tight, only able to take this ride of your life.

The sloppy meeting of his cock in your silken walls mingled with both your harsh breathing and Ran felt that telltale stir in his balls that he was going to fucking blow his load and all you could do was take it. He didn’t care if you weren’t on birth control or if this was what you did with the filthy men that you picked up on the streets; in this instance, your pussy was his, and he would show that pretty little cunt that he alone was her master.

“Yeah? Do it.” He goaded as his thumb rubbed frantic circles on your engorged and sensitive nub. “Fucking cum for me, princess.”

You jerked in his grip like a puppet strung too tightly and lost all restraint and shame, tossing your head back with a scream of his name, the sight so fucking magnificent in the haze of the flickering lights behind you that Ran thought himself to be in love again.

Every muscle in your body seized and his most favorite ones—the walls of your pussy—practically milked him dry. Ran was not even the least bit disgruntled that he was panting like a bitch in heat, fucking the last of his cum deep into your cervix.

The both of you took a second to just breathe.

Thank fuck for the open air—the smell of sex was sure to permeate every pore of his body, just like that tantalising vanilla perfume you wore.

Ran was gentle when he brought you back to your feet, toeing the scraps of what used to be your panties into a corner. Memories of how clingy you could be after every round of sex burned through his mind and he halfway expected you to cling onto him like a sleepy koala. That assumption was dashed when you stepped away from him, tucking your tits back into your bra and lifting the straps back in place.

Despite his silent disappointment, he helped you straighten the hem of your dress and you reached out to button back his vest; a team effort at getting decent once more.

Ran sat back down onto the plush chair, and this time, you sank into his lap, uncapping the bottle of whiskey and pouring a fresh glass.

You passed him the amber liquid and he took it from you with a nod.

“You alright?”

Sheepishly, you picked up his cigarettes and lighter, taking a moment to spark the flame before touching it to the butt of your white stick, the dancing flicker imprinted in the back of his eyelids whenever he blinked.

“Yeah.”

He drank and you smoked. Ran didn’t care that his seed was seeping out and staining his slacks, nor did he care that a bit of your ash fell onto his leg. He merely brushed it aside, wishing he had the courage to mimic that same motion with a stray piece of hair kissing your forehead.

“Usually I’d charge you a hundred an hour, y’know.”

Humour. You always used a joke to deflect the seriousness of a situation.

“Tell me about your life on the streets.” It wasn’t a request, and you could hear the steel under his soft tone, this one attempt to fill in the blanks of your new life something he found himself immensely curious on.

“It’s good money,” you sighed, and took another drag, the smoke unfurling past your kiss-swollen lips. “I live just by Roppongi with another hooker. She was the one who made this lifestyle sound so glamorous.”

In a softer tone, you held a faraway look in your gaze that was trailing across the city line. “The first time I did it, I sobbed like a baby afterwards. Felt dirty. But, you eventually get used to it—the leers, the pawing. I always made them wear rubber, though, so you don’t have to worry.”

He tightened his grip on the glass and swallowed down his disapproval with another mouthful of liquor. This is not you, Y/N.

You gave him a small smile and Ran bit back the urge to taste the nicotine off your tongue. “You’re the first guy I’ve ever let raw me in a long time. Well technically, you’re still the first guy.”

He tried not to let his surprise show, preferring to huff a silent laugh. A memory of you, five years younger, head on his chest and a sleepy confession passing your lips, flashed through his mind. I know this is my first time and all… but holy shit—you blew my brains out, Haitani.

Ran sat down the glass and wrapped his arms around you, perching his pointed chin on your shoulder. “I usually don’t help hookers… but I’ll make an exception for ya.”

You stubbed out the cig onto the stone wall, dusting the ash from your fingers. “Don’t pull my leg.”

Stubborn bitch.

“Nah. I’m serious,” he said, grin growing wider at the surprise settling onto your features. “I’ll see what I can find.”

He nudged you off his lap and picked up his jacket, shaking the dirt off from the expensive material. From his pocket, he procured a stiff card. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything.”

You turned the square in your fingers like it was a rare diamond you were studying, eyes shining. He was about to leave you alone with your thoughts when a soft call of his name punctured through the night like the clicking of a gun.

“Ran?”

The tall, Bonten executive swiveled back to face you, and he almost wished he didn’t. If he thought you were gorgeous in the throes in your orgasm, it was nothing compared to how you were looking at him now.

Swallowing back against the panic rising in his chest, he fixed you with a neutral gaze. “Hmm?”

Your answering smile was almost tender. “Thank you.”

He swore his heart skipped a beat.

And in that instance, a single, shred of doubt blossomed in his mind as he mulled over on the thought that if helping you was the right thing to do.

“Alright, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The stench of blood was thick in his nose, but Ran never took his eyes off the rivulets of red streaming into the man’s mouth. They had found him by the wharf and kidnapped him at gunpoint, bringing him down to Sanzu’s secret hideout to keep wandering eyes and ears from telling on them to Mikey. They were already in the midst of evading a drug bust and the leader of Bonten did not need this side quest to clutter his already burdened plate.

Ran had sworn them all to secrecy and here they were; Sanzu probably somewhere getting high off his fucking mind and Rindou beside him, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up and cracking his knuckles for another round.

“Wait, no—argh!”

Like breaking a biscuit in half, Rindou dislocated the man’s other finger joint, his other four twitching helplessly in abject agony. If there was one person he could trust to torture someone without spilling blood, it would his younger brother. The man spat out a globe of red and whimpered.

Well… maybe a tiny bit of blood had to be involved.

Ran’s voice was low and grim. “Answer, now. Name, location, or description.”

“I can’t tell you,” the bald-headed man gasped and flinched when Rindou bore down on him again. “Please! He’ll kill me if he finds out.”

The younger but no less feared Haitani brother wrapped two fingers around the underling's thumb. “Say, do you know what happens when you break someone’s thumb? Unlike the index or middle finger, it doesn’t heal. You know that? The ligament here—” he pressed the soft skin between the man’s index and thumb hard, his choked screams echoing across the decrepit walls. “—is all but paralysed if someone’s thumb snaps.”

Rindou shrugged and Ran had to bite back a laugh at how terrified the man looked. “Gonna be hard to explain to your boss how you can’t even shoot a Glock if you got no thumbs, huh? What are they gonna do to you—make you hold their cigarettes instead with your wrists? Kinda pathetic if you ask me.”

“No, please—”

“Last chance,” Rindou intoned in his usual bored fashion. “Name, location or description.”

The man threw his head back, his bound hands twitching, his thumb ransomed in Rindou’s unyielding grip. Eventually, he decided that the fate of his ligaments must’ve been more important; if this asshole was on his team, Ran would have shot him between the eyes with no hesitation at how easily he gave up his leader’s name.

“Kisaki Tetta.”

Fuck!

The two brothers shared a glance. You wanna do this? Rindou asked silently through a raised brow. Ran shrugged, as if to say, looks like we gotta do it, man.

Before the man could exhale in relief that his thumb was safe, Ran whipped out his gun and shot him point blank in the head. Warm flecks of blood and brain like the bursting of an overripe fruit splattered across his and Rindou’s faces. The shot echoed across the walls, the shell clattering onto the ground. The smell of smoke and blood hung in the air and Ran grunted, striding angrily towards the entrance of the warehouse, fumbling for his lighter.

“You really wanna do this?” Rindou easily caught up with his older brother, strings of blood caught in his purple mullet. He looked in a desperate need of a shower.

“I promised her, Rin.”

The younger Haitani resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Behind him, he heard Sanzu’s maniacal laughter and no doubt his superior would make sure that still-warm body would find its way down into the depths of the river; that man’s name, history and legacy wiped away together with the current. Despite his position, Bonten’s number two found extreme pleasure in cleaning up after the goriest of scenes and who was Ran to deny him his fun?

“Yeah, but she dumped you last time. You passed that?”

Ran leaned against his McLaren, a twin model of Rindou’s car but in jet black rather than muted silver. “You said it yourself—it’s all in the past.”

Rindou stole a white stick from his brother and stuck it between his teeth, grunting. “I really hope you know what you’re getting into. Kisaki’s gonna be a bitch to get through.”

Ran inhaled the curls of smoke in a rendition of a sigh. “It’s not impossible.”

“All for her, huh?”

The older Haitani narrowed his eyes and Rindou sensed when to back off. The story of his brother and his ex-girlfriend was one that he didn't have the full facts to. All he knew was that you upped and left one day and never reached out to Ran again.

Rindou snorted inwardly. As much as it hurt Ran’s ego to be left before he could do the leaving, he could see how his brother was clearly still in love with you.

Poor bastard.

“No. Her dad was a good man. I don’t know what shit he got himself in with Kisaki of all people but it wouldn’t hurt to find out more.”

Rindou stared off into the harbor, inhaling his next drag deeply. “Why?”

He had expected Ran to snort or brush him off when any mention of emotion was brought into the ring. Not to look at him with burning eyes and a hopeless sneer.

“The look on her face, man. It was like… like she didn’t have a will to live anymore. Not until she was telling me about him. Fuck, I mean… I gotta at least try.”

As much as Rindou was itching to knock some sense back into his brother, he thought about you and how you were like a rock to him all those years ago.

Once upon a time, Rindou was pretty sure that Ran was going to marry you; Bonten was a second priority to him, the first being the only woman the older Haitani had ever loved. The day you left was the day the last shred of Ran's humanity died.

After that, his brother was never the same again.

“Fuck—fine. But only because I’m actually related to you. If it was anyone else I would’ve left your ass out in the cold.”

A shadow of that lovesick grin that had been missing these past five years tugged on the corners of his lips, eliciting a sudden surge of nostalgia in the younger Haitani's chest.

“Thanks, Rin.”

Rindou rolled his eyes and stamped out his cigarette with the tip of his shoe.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off.”

“So, you’re the flavour of the month.”

You turned towards the unexpected, smug voice and found a young woman with red-painted lips sneering at you.

The same bossa nova music tinkled in the background and you tightened your denim jacket around your shoulders to ward off the frostiness of her forced smile.

“Excuse me?”

“Ran Haitani—you’re trying to land him.”

That glint in her eye was familiar. This woman was jealous and rather than lashing out at your ex-boyfriend, she was egging you on. Must’ve been an ex-fling, by the looks of it. You snorted inwardly. Unlucky bitch.

“No, I’m not trying to land him at all,” you retorted mildly and resisted the urge to flip her off. “I’m just using him for sex.”

A low chuckle broke through the tension and your eyes widened at another face from your past. Sleepy lilac eyes, a languid smile and a shaggy mullet the same hue as his brother’s locks. Rindou Haitani stood before you right in the flesh.

“Damn. Good to see you still have that mouth on you, Y/N.”

You threw one last glare at that woman who had scampered away the moment a Haitani was nearby and rolled your eyes. A playful smile teased your lips; you always had a good relationship with Rindou, and though he was a year younger than you, he didn’t find the need for formalities and you admired him for that.

After all, keeping up pretenses could be exhausting.

“Nice to meet you again, Rin.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off your grin with a lazy one of his own. “Cmon, Ran’s up at the deck. Heard things got a little… heated there.” He let you hit his shoulder just like old times and you chuckled at his audacity. Like older brother, like younger brother.

“Shut up, Haitani.”

He wrapped an arm around you in a familial way. “Grumpy ass bitch.”

Rindou dropped his arm the moment Ran came into view. The deck was once more empty, the patrons forbidden from entering this space now that the two owners were here and wanted their privacy.

Ran’s lilac eyes roamed across your features and he shot you a grin. “Hey. We got the info you’re searching for.”

Your heart sped up and you sank down on the plush chair where Rindou had gathered, hands laced over your lap. “You did?” Ran nodded and sat next to you, the heat of his body radiating comfort despite the tension, and if Rindou’s eyes were not on the both of you, you would have laid your head on his shoulder, if not just to feel its broad strength underneath your cheek.

“Kisaki was the one who ordered your father’s death.”

That name was unfamiliar to you; none of the other girls you worked with who serviced gang members had ever mentioned a Kisaki. Ran sensed your palpable confusion. “He runs a new organisation—Valhalla 2.0. It used to be one of the top delinquent groups years ago, together with Toman. He’s been trying to revive it back to its glory days.”

Your silence perturbed both brothers though they did not show it. They’ve both been trained for the longest of time in the art of observation to determine someone’s next move and from the look on your face, it seemed that you were steeling yourself for a hard decision. However, they didn't expect what you would say next.

“I guess I’ll have to infiltrate it.”

“It won’t be easy,” Rindou said after a moment of silence, leaning back against the chair, an edge in his dark gaze.

“You’ll have to be trained,” Ran supplied.

Another twist of your hands. “I never thought it would be. But I’ll do it—for him.” Rindou must’ve known who you were referring to, most likely hearing it from Ran, as he did not ask any further questions.

Ran was more cautious of the two brothers. “You’re gonna do this on your own?”

“I have to,” you bowed your head towards both brothers so they couldn’t see the tears coruscating in your eyes. “Thank you for your help. I am indebted to you both.” Sensing that your short time together with them was up, you stood up and meant to walk away. This was all the help you would ask from them—you couldn’t expect anything more.

Any bit of intelligence in the underground world that all three of you belonged to came with a harsh price, and you had no doubt as to how the brothers had to dirty their hands to get you this information. The last thing you wanted was to overstep on their kindness.

“Wait.”

You paused.

It was Ran who asked, “How’d you like a spot in Bonten?”

Heart in your throat, you almost thought you were hallucinating from the heights and the smoke. “Bonten?” you repeated slowly.

Ran nodded, flashing you a small smile, one that reminded you of the same sheepish grin he wore whenever he bought you your favourite flowers. “We’ll train you up, get you an entry point and then you’ll strike. Sounds fair?”

This was more than fair; Ran was literally handing you your revenge on a silver platter and you would be a fool to deny this offer.

“Deal.”

Later when you had gone back to Roppongi and it was just the two brothers and their closing bar, Rindou broached the topic with him. “So, you’re just gonna Rescue Armour your little girlfriend like Pepper Potts so she can do your dirty work?”

Ran tore his eyes away from the skyline and snorted.

“She’s not my girlfriend. And second of all, who still watches Marvel movies?”

Rindou sensed it would be useless to fight with his brother once his mind was made up and he only hoped that Mikey would turn a blind eye to this. 

Who knows? Perhaps once you infiltrated Valhalla and brought Kisaki down to the dirt where he belonged, Mikey might give them both a big enough raise to open another bar; this time one in the heart of the district they grew up in.

“Apparently not losers like you.”

Ran snorted and touched his suit pocket where his trusty baton was, much to his younger brother’s annoyance. “How’d you like the taste of steel on your ass, Rin?”

“Ew. Save that kinky shit for your girl, man.”

“She’s not my girl.” Another weak denial. Fuck, Ran was getting shittier at lying day by day; Sanzu would be disappointed in him.

“And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

“Fuck off.”

Yup. His brother was completely and utterly whipped for you. Rindou reached out to flick Ran’s forehead, a smirk replacing his usual languid smile.

“Simp.”

a/n. feedback and comments are appreciated. even though this is a reuploaded fic lmao

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

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