Kiss Me More (bokuto X Reader)

kiss me more (bokuto x reader)

previous || next

chapter 4: meet the team

You spent longer than usual getting ready. You had to find something for both the MSBY practice and for your outing with Bokuto afterwards. Could you call it a date? You don't know and are a little too embarrassed to ask.  Though you had spent nearly an hour texting him, you still didn't know how you felt about him. It was hard to say the relationship between you two, but that wasn't something you were thinking about currently, as you wondered if you would make a good first impression to his team.

You were a little nervous to meet the volleyball team, though how could you not be? They were of monstrous height (most of them anyway), monstrous strength, and just monsters in general (why else name their generation that way?) That was all you could think about on the walk to the gymnasium.

Even from the hallway leading to the gym, you could hear a ball slam on the court, along with shouts and laughs. Deciding to wo-man up, you walked in the gym. Immediately several players noticed your presence and began murmuring to each other. A certain handsome man with bright golden eyes turned in your direction and bounded towards you. He was very energetic and it was hard for you to believe his age.

"HEY HEY HEY (L/n)! Good to see you again!" He pulled you into a strong hug. You jokingly gagged at the layer of sweat he was covered in but hugged him back anyway. Unbeknownst to you the team was giving Bokuto looks; smirks and thumbs up (and other gestures that won't be named). He gave them a look before letting you out of the embrace and smiling at you. He then led you over to his coach and one of the managers for the team, who introduced herself as the woman you had been in correspondence with.

The coach of the team didn't initially pay much attention to you, however the female manager gave you a kind smile before sparking conversation about things you had designed before. You learned her name was Misaki Hana. She was an attractive young woman who was probably a few years older than you, with brown hair and beautiful brown eyes, you felt a little self conscious. The woman was very nice though, and you easily went back and forth with her.

The players were very intrigued by you and even more so by Bokuto's reaction to you. Watching you interact with their manager, they looked between you and Bokuto, whose intent gaze was glued to your face. With this in mind, Atsumu made his way over to you to 'introduce himself' and totally not to push a certain outside hitter's buttons (he would never do such a thing!).

"Welll if it isn't (L/n)! You know, yer much prettier in person" you looked away from MSBY's manager to a tall man with dyed blond hair. You would've been a little annoyed at someone rudely interrupting your conversation had you been in any other setting, but then his compliment really hit you.

"Oh, thank you-" you barely got out before he cut in again.

"I've heard so much about ya. Bokkun is quite the loudmouth and add a pretty girl into the mix an' it's obvious-"

"Who are you?" you interrupted him this time. Of course, you knew who he was already. You recognized him from the bar and from the player roster. He was the starting setter for the Black Jackals and had gone to Inarizaki, a school that your parents were considering sending you to when you were younger. You weren't really expecting his personality to be like this, truthfully. But after looking into each player you had found he had a dedicated fanbase (of mostly women). He looked over at Bokuto, who had an unreadable expression on. His mouth was pursed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed, and he was looking directly at the man in front of you. The man turned back to you before grabbing your hand.

"Miya Atsumu, but you can call me whenever you want" he absurdly winked. He made sure to emphasize it and your eyes widened at his obvious flirting. Your heart jumped since you hadn't been expecting to be hit on in a volleyball gym of all places, but maybe you should've known better. Regardless, you simply laughed at him and waved him off.

"Clearly you already know me, but it's nice to meet you, Miya".

"Call me Atsumu, that's what everyone calls me". You weren't really sure about calling this guy by his first name considering you didn't know him very well, but if he insisted then you figured you'd oblige.

"Well then, it's nice to meet you Atsumu" you gave him a small smile and turned back to the manager. Unbeknownst to you, she had been giving Atsumu a death glare the entire time he had been flirting with you, urging him to leave you alone.

Coach Samson, sensing that not much practicing was being done by any of the players anyway, decided to have the manager introduce you to the team officially. The anxious pit that was your stomach made you nauseous and excited all at the same time.

"Everyone, I am happy for you to meet (L/n) (Y/n). She'll be helping us advertise your big game versus the Adlers-" which she could barely get out before there was basically an eruption amongst the men. It was clear that the game would be very personal for some of them, especially the ginger.

When their excitement had died down, several of the team members crowded around you and wildly introduced themselves. It was overwhelming, and you wished that they all composed themselves like the quiet black-haired man standing away from the group. They were all very friendly however, so you started getting to know them personally.

-BOKUTO-

Lately, Bokuto had been thinking about his life and his priorities a lot differently. The main reason for that was the very girl visiting practice today. The topic of love and girls was something familiar and yet confounding to the man.

Women had always been into him, of course. It was something he had been acutely aware of since high school. As one of the top 5 aces in the country, he had plenty of fans and a lot of them were girls. All of Fukurodani's games had large cheering sections of girls he both knew and didn't know. Despite this, he had never been big on dating or investing into his love life. However, he couldn't deny the way he had been feeling ever since that chance meeting in the bar. As much as he might seem like one sometimes, he wasn't an idiot and knew what that feeling was.

There was a genuine attraction to you to a level that he hadn't felt with another woman quite possibly ever. You were beautiful, smart, friendly, and able to put up with him and his somewhat overbearing personality. Over the last few days, he had conjured up fantasies of what his life would be like if you were a guaranteed part of it. He imagined domestic situations, vacations, a wedding, your first apartment together, the house you would buy for mini baby Bokutos. He had snapped out of it at that point, and nearly launched himself into an existential mid-life crisis.

Sure, for now he was in his early 20's, until he turns 25 in September, and then he's basically 30, which would make him middle aged, and beyond the general starting point for getting married or having a family and-

"I was a defensive specialist in high school, so I kind of had to be good at everything" she told Hinata who was looking at her incredulously. Finding out she had been a volleyball player piqued Bokuto's interest even more than he thought was possible. Hinata asked her to practice with them, to which she politely declined as she wasn't really in the mood to show off in the dress/nice outfit she was wearing.

Pretty soon, Coach yelled at the men to get back to practice or they would have extra conditioning.

Getting back to practice, he decided he would show off just for you.

-(Y/N)-

You had a great time getting to know everyone, though you had to admit you did feel sweet relief when Misaki called you back over to sit on the bench with her while the men got back to practice.

You couldn't help but watch the men with awe in between looking at pictures of Misaki's pet cat. They were truly a sight to behold, and you wondered how an actual game would go if this was what they looked like during practice.

The coach laughed at the look on your face, and it was almost like he read your mind.

"You know, since you're helping us to advertise for our big game, how do you feel about a free ticket to come and see it in person?"

Your grin gave away your opinion on the matter immediately. You were even more excited to work with the team and hoped that your skill would be up to par for what they were looking for.

-

Eventually, their practice ended and the men headed to the locker room to shower or get their stuff to go. Bokuto came over to you before heading in and explained he would be showering and to wait for him to be done. You waited on the bench for him as the players emerged one by one, and you waved goodnight to each of them. You sat on your phone waiting for Bokuto to emerge. Mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, you had no idea how much time had passed.

"Ready to go?" you looked up to find the very man you had been waiting for. He was dressed decently in (honestly whatever outfit you want to see him in). You looked him up and down and he laughed. You stood up and nodded before the two of you headed off into the night.

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.”

Sweet Blind Summer Fling ༄ S. Gojo

"Due to a bet made by Nobara, I made an online dating account to set myself up with a blind date. Although a bit witty and annoyingly childish, Gojo's remarkably handsome and sweet...So, how the hell did I end up sleeping with him on the first date!?"

A/n: Alright, y'all, it's time for the second entry for my summer series!! Not gonna lie, it was fun to write as it's my first time writing for Gojo. I think I did a decent job capturing his character in my style, but you will be the judge of that. This was supposed to be posted on Monday, but I was overwhelmed (had 1 hour of sleep) and dropped something else. But we're good to go now! :) And fyi: there's a bonus scene at the end that sets up the next story as they are connected. Any spelling/grammar errors will be dealt with tomorrow.

Also, guest appearances from my lovely mooties (@cu7ie // @kazushawty // @etherealxmaya // @hqkalon // @yourrfavzxri // @neptunes1nterweb) because I felt like it, lol. Hope this puts a smile on their faces if they see this :3

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: switch! Gojo x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - blind date/online match-up - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Gojo is around early 30s) - texting back and forth - sex at a hotel - one night stands - consensual sex under the influence - protected sex (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - cowgirl + lotus positions - pet names (angel, baby, dollface, pretty, princess, sweet thing) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - mentions of drug/alcohol use (reader and Gojo don't get blackout drunk, but y'all get tipsy) - a bunch of silliness bc it's a Gojo fic (duh).

Wc: 6.9k (7.4k with the bonus scene...never say I don't do anything for y'all)

Dear Diary...I once again have come to you with more thoughts that cloud my personal judgment. I did not think you'd be of use to me again. But after what happened last night, it's worth having you in front of me and a pen in my hand again once more...

After finishing your finals, summer break has finally welcomed you with open arms. Two semesters of painful studying and sleepless nights have been long forgotten since you turned in your last in-person exam! You've started working at an internship that you've been dying to get, enjoying the new things you're learning from experienced colleagues, and finding love in the field you've grown and studied for this entire time.

In addition, you also have all the time in the world to hang out with your best friends — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara! Just last weekend, you four hung out at this new sports bar that recently opened and had the most fun experience! Yuuji made new friends with people at the bar who kept buying him drinks; Megumi had to begrudgingly watch over the salmon-haired other to ensure he didn't croak from alcohol poisoning, and you and Nobara took sweet pictures together for your summer album.

It's been a great summer so far. There has been nothing that could bring you down from enjoying this season in the best way you can. Absolutely nothing that could throw you off your summer grove!

However, that's what you initially thought. Because why else would you be in some random hotel room writing in your diary.

To get the full context, I'll take you back to the night I and the gang left the sports bar. We spent the night at Yuuji's as he and Nobara tried to sober up...

It was a chill evening in your friend's place, you and the other three in the living room chatting with the television on low to not disrupt his sleeping grandfather. Yuuji was sobering up by eating bread and drinking water, Megumi was on the couch reading something on his phone, and you were arguing with Nobara.

The auburn-haired other points to you with her index, holding a glass of water. "I told ya, you lost the bet!"

"How!? You literally cheated!" You push her finger out of the way as you two giggle at your complaints. "You kicked Yuuji in the shin to distract him, and I didn't even know I was a part of the damn thing!"

Now your pink-haired friend jumped to say words of his own. "That was foul with what you did; I should've fallen to the floor and acted like I was really hurt. Have you paying my medical bills."

"Blah, blah, blah, sounds like a losers' pleas to me." Nobora rolls her eyes while you and Yuuji glare at her. "And you! You didn't say you were out of the game, unlike Megumi. I said, and I quote: 'When the wings touch the table, the bet is on,' and guess what? By the time the wings got here, I didn't hear a single peep out of you saying you forfeited from the challenge! Once you picked up a single wing, your ass was set in stone!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, you annoying bitch..." you groan in your hands as the woman maniacally barks her laughs. "Alright, fine, I ate the shortest portion of wings. Therefore, I, Y/n L/n, declare myself the loser to this fuckery of a challenge. So, Queen Cheater," Nobara snickers to herself at the title you've given her. "What is my punishment?"

You should've known by the evil twinge of your friend's lip that the punishment would be absurd. "I, Queen Cheater," she takes a confident swig of her water before sealing your fate. The words she says next shake to your core, and the decline of your dignity hits you like a bullet train. "...Hereby dare you, the loser, to make an online dating account and find thyself a blind date!"

Your disapproval fell on deaf ears, forcing you to resentfully grab your phone and download a dating app. To make matters worse, you had to make the account with your friends watching (minus Megumi, who still wanted no part in what you all were doing). Once you were done setting up your profile, the three of you looked to the screen to look at the other users, who were also on a quest to find a sense of courtship.

The past thirty minutes have been spent looking at all the users around the area, swiping left and right for those who did and didn't pique your interest.

Todo Aoi (22) "I like 'em tall, with a FAT ASS. If you don't fit the criteria, it's gonna be hard to convince me."

Oh, brother.

Sol (18) "Don't know about a long-term relationship, but we can be chill if ya wanna be friends! :D"

Seems nice. Maybe a chat wouldn't hurt.

Mei Mei (36) Don't ever expect me to pay for the first date or any date. Will you see me again depends on what you have in your savings. ♡

Alright, I appreciate the honesty. But nope.

Karma (20) "Tbh I'm secretly married to my four wives: Hoshi, Maya, Sae, and Zari. But if you look like or are Toji Fushiguro, hit my DMs pronto!! Shhhh, don't tell Hoshi tho, she might divorce me :P"

Okay then—Wait, isn't that Megumi's dad??

Hoshi (20s) Don't listen to Karma. We are very much divorced, and my heart belongs to my one and only: Toji Fushiguro :/

Alrighty then...

Sapphire (19) "Call me MLK, cuz I had a dream about us 🫦"

Fucking no!

Frustration keens in through a heavy sigh. Usually, you'd be happy knowing you can't seem to find a match; however, for this situation, Nobara Kugisaki will not let you off the hook until there's someone worthy of the swipe of invitation. You groan in exhaustion, throwing your head back onto the couch behind you.

With no luck, you decided to call it a night and try again later. So you called an Uber, took yourself home after saying goodbyes to your friends, and reluctantly promised Nobara you'd let her know if you'd get a blind date. With a nice shower and some comfortable PJs, you're now lying comfortably on your bed and looking through all the pictures you took tonight. Then, for some reason, you had the urge to go back on the dating app to look through more users to match up with. Probably because you'd prefer to get this bet out of the way now than later. Regardless of the justification, you spend about twenty minutes swiping and reading through many other people's profiles, and — just like before — not many people catch your eye.

That holds true until you stumble upon a name and description that sparks your curiosity.

Satoru Gojo (old enough to be irresistible; 31) "I was made perfect, I can do everything perfectly, but I want us to be perfect together (･ω<;)☆"

It might've been the use of the emoticon or the confidence that seeped out based on the tiny description. Whatever the case, you stayed on the user's profile for quite a while longer than the others. Even going far as to read his profile thoroughly: knowing what his likes and dislikes are, his height, a fan of Digimon, and so on.

And you contemplated whether or not to swipe him to the side of approval, but you made up your mind after a few minutes of inner discourse. It's not like I'll match up with him immediately. So, you gave him the go and continued on with your search.

Although, that was short-lived because what happened next surprised you to the point that sleep no longer claimed over you.

"Contratz! You've successfully matched with Satoru Gojo!"

Wait, what!!??

You were utterly perplexed by the pop-up showing up on your phone screen. There's no way this was happening, all under the same night, too! And what surprised you the most was the fact that he was awake as well, sending you the first message:

gogojojo: Hey!

Oh, fucking shit. Your body tenses at the greeting, reading his username and message repeatedly. Quickly, you take a few deep breaths to ease yourself before doing something stupid. You answer him with a salutation of your own:

y/ndontwannabehere: Hi there!

gogojojo: A night owl too, huh? Couldn't sleep?

y/ndontwannabehere: Yeah, was just on my phone for a bit, until I saw your message.

gogojojo: Lucky me! I was surprised to have you as a match, I saw your profile about an hour ago.

y/ndontwannabehere: I'm also surprised as well, you're one of the few people who I seemed interested in.

gogojojo: Well, I'm flattered :D Now that you got my attention, what would you like to know about me?

y/ndontwannabehere: Okay...it says you're six-foot-three, how's that like?

gogojojo: I may be six-foot-three, but I'd like to be six feet under you ;3

y/ndontwannabehere: ......

......I regret giving this dude a chance.

Because of the terrible pick-up line, you closed off the app and turned off your phone to switch the lights off and go to sleep. However, another text sends your phone vibrating on the dresser's surface.

gogojojo: Woooow, not even a pity laugh? :/

You shake your head at the notification, but a smile creeps up when you open your phone and tap on the keys to message back.

y/ndontwannabehere: nope, that sucked ass.

gogojojo: Hey now!! >:T you can't say it's ass if it did what it was supposed to do

y/ndontwannabehere: and what's that?

gogojojo: got you here talking with me ヾ(●ε●)ノ

His message makes your smile broader, and you spend the rest of the night talking to Gojo.

It continues for two more weeks, sharing pieces of info about yourselves while rolling your eyes at his annoying jokes and pick-up lines. But for the most part, you enjoy your talks with the stranger on the other side of your screen.

And it all goes swell until he drops this:

gogojojo: Hey! Wanna go on a date with me this weekend?

You were lying on your bed watching Netflix, and you almost choked on your dinner when the message popped up. So in tune with the back-and-forth between you and Gojo that you had forgotten why you made an online dating account in the first place! You grab for your phone to reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: you're serious?!

gogojojo: yeah! I mean, you and I've been talking for a while, I'm kinda into you, plus we could meet up somewhere close. Besides, I would like to see you, and I know you're dying to see me too :)

y/ndontwannabehere: And what makes you think I'd DIE just to see you?

gogojojo: Because why would you not~? You'd be surprised by how many people I've had fallen head-over-heels for me~

y/ndontwannabehere: well, guess I'll be the first one to not be >:3

gogojojo: HUH!!?? Don't say that, I'll cry

y/ndontwannabehere: LMAO grown ass man crying over rejection

gogojojo: Rejection hurts, and I have a weak heart!! :'000

y/ndontwannabehere: Liar.

gogojojo: ANYWAYS! You up for a date?

And that's how you started dressing yourself up on a Friday afternoon, fixing yourself up in front of your bedroom mirror. Checking your phone periodically for Gojo to tell you when he's in front of your home.

You already texted Nobara that you got a blind date, to which she praised you with monumental amounts of supportive text messages and emojis and a text stating she'll throttle you if you don't tell her all about it. It was humorous: you created the online dating account because of a stupid bet for a random date — and now that it was here, you didn't know how to feel. You can't say when was the last time you ever went out with someone, let alone on a blind date! Anxiousness shadows you about the whole thing, but after chatting and getting to know a little bit of Gojo, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad of a date.

After all, the guy seems likable and fun to hang out with based on your interactions. Plus, it's only a date. That's all it is. Absolutely nothing attached in any shape or form.

Thoughts grind to a halt when you hear your phone vibrating on your dresser, a text from Gojo.

gogojojo: I'm here~~~ Ready to fall madly in love with me? :3

Your heart skips a beat at the message, biting the bottom of your lip in nervousness. You send him a reply:

y/ndontwannabehere: Nah, ready to barf right in front of your face :P

gogojojo: Such a rude person :/ Get your butt out here

You giggle before shutting off your phone and grabbing your bag with all your necessary items. Before you leave, you look in the mirror one last time, using this moment to mentally prepare yourself for what's to come. The day has come; you're about to go on a date. No going back now, and I can finally put this dumb bet to rest!

You open your front door and enter outside, the summer heat crawling on your legs from your cute jean shorts and your shoulders excluded from the cream-white cami top. You see a black car — a black 2018 BMW XI — parked right on the street, windows tinted to hide the face you're looking for. But when you draw closer to the vehicle, the passenger side window slides down, and you finally meet him.

The man of the hour himself, the man you've been talking with for two weeks straight, and the man you were about to experience a complete mess of a date with: Satoru Gojo.

"Hey there," his voice was chipper and friendly; his texting style matched his speech. From the window, you can interpret his outfit: a blue flannel shirt covering his white Tee and black jeans with a silver chain emanating from his belt. His eyes were blocked by dark circle sunglasses, making it hard to decipher the color. But his snow-white hair was the first thing that caught your eye, contrasting with the black interior of his car. "Y/n, right?"

You smile at your name. "Correct, Mr. Gogojojo."

He snickers at the use of his username. "You look cute, and I know you like what you see since you were eyeballing me up and down."

"Yeah, whatever." You roll your eyes before opening the passenger door, putting your bag between your legs as you sit down. While putting on your seatbelt, you can feel the bass subtlety vibrate within the car, and the music was...What the fuck? You look at the front integrated head unit on the dashboard and see what artist the man is listening to. "...You listen to Zack Fox?"

"Yeah, I was listening to his songs on my way here! You know his song Marinate?" And before you could answer, the white-haired man sang along to the lyrics. To your perplexity, you just watch him rap along with the artist and the outlandish lyrics. And he just keeps going until the transition to the second verse. "Funny, right?"

"You know," you shake your head at Gojo, whose grin goes wider. "I was about to fall for you until you started rapping the lyrics."

"Whaaaat, he's a comedian, it's meant to be funny!"

"Whatever. Let's just hurry and get this date over with."

"Oh, sounds like someone's ready to be wined and dined by me." He starts the car and shifts between gears. "Don't rush things, princess. Good things come to those who wait."

"Just drive!"

Gojo laughs at your complaints as he drives off on the street. You playfully groan to yourself at your date's antics, looking out to the window to watch your surroundings move past your line of sight.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"Ever since high school, I would eat a pack of gummies anytime I was doing homework because it stimulates my brain and helps me focus. So by the time college came around, I got so used to eating sweets that I naturally started liking them." Gojo took a sip of his milkshake. "But then, when my best friend and I went to our first house party, I had my first drink. And, Y/n."

"Oh God, what?"

"The taste was so bad that I tried downing it all in one chug. Well, that came back to bite my ass — and my best friend got the worst of it."

"Gojo, what did you do?"

"He was sitting down on a couch talking to someone, and I was behind the couch feeling all squeamish. So, before I could stop myself, I barfed on his hair!"

"Oh, my God, No!!" And the two of you roar in laughter and bang on the booth table you were sitting at.

The date was at an old, vibrant diner in the city where Gojo is a regular customer; the cozy and welcoming atmosphere had you erase any anxious feelings about this date and feel a little more confident. You and Gojo took things slow, you talking about your summer internship and him of his job as a high school teacher.

The conversation started the topic of summer break came to play, prompting you to talk more about yourself and your friends. That flipped the switch entirely as you became more open about your friends and their goofiness. And as a goofy man, Gojo was intrigued with your stories and had him reminiscent of memories from his youth. Although, you've come to find out that Gojo takes his playful nature to a whole other level, and it's been having you two laugh about said foolishness for the past hour.

"The funny thing is, right, he was talking to this sophomore girl that was eyeing him up the whole time we were there," Gojo says through wheezes. "And he was finally talking to this chick, and she was really getting into him. I didn't mean to intrude on his parade or anything, but as my best friend, you're supposed to help me through thick and thin. I was going to ask if it was okay if I headed to the dorm alone while he stayed at this party. And then, vomit happened."

"Ewww, you terrible friend!" You try to eat a fry from your meal, but your giggles make dining difficult. "No wonder he pranked you with a weed brownie."

"Jokes on him; I still nailed my presentation for my exam. I don't remember saying anything I said, but I take pride in whatever I did to get that A." He takes a big bite of his burger and swallows before saying more. "And I started seeing the sophomore girl he talked to afterward, so checkmate."

You gasp at the information and throw a piece of your food at him, which he effortlessly catches with his hand and eats. "You petty bastard! I'm on your friend's side all the way."

"No regrets!" He hits you with his annoying chuckle that has you smiling hard, and the light above your table makes his dark sunglasses shine chicly.

"Oh, yeah?" You inquire. "I bet I could make you regret it."

The man on the other side of the booth scoffs. "Is that so? And how are you gonna do that, my pretty princess?"

You didn't think he'd buy your bluff. So, the truth is, you had no idea of how'd you punish the snow-haired man. Looking around the diner, you scope for anything that sparks a concept. You then turn to his side and notice a booth at the far end. A woman was laughing with her friends and sipping on a cocktail, making a slightly sour face after taking a drink.

And then it hits, along with a sneer, and you peer back to your date.

"You don't like alcohol, right?" He quirks up a brow at your question. "How many times have you had a drink in your life?"

"Three or four."

"Well then, I dare you to drink three or four cocktails. No milkshake or water to help you get through. Just the ice cubes in the drink."

White brows furrow, and even if the shades block them from your interpretation, you can tell Gojo is studying your face in deep thought with your so-called punishment. Ten seconds go by before he scoffs again. "I'll take up on that. On one condition," he leans back on the booth seat. "You have to take the drinks with me as well."

Now it's your turn to raise a brow and think about his words. "You're paying for the drinks."

"Done deal." He pulls his hand outward to you, initiating a handshake to set the seal in stone before continuing on with this game of yours. You happily shake his hand, commencing the punishment to officially start.

One cocktail was a breeze for you but a bit of a doozy for Gojo to stomach; you had to warn him that if he barfed on you, you'd ditch him and block him for life. Two cocktails in is when you begin feeling tingly. Your date was going through it halfway into the glass, so you had to compromise that a glass of water was needed for him.

Three cocktails in, and you undoubtedly feel the alcohol hit you behind its sweet and tangy facade. You can hardly look at the drink, same with Gojo. You two look at each other and shake your heads in disagreement, pushing the glasses to the side and groaning with your now-drunk selves.

Gojo is the first to say something. "As far as disciplines go, that was, without a doubt, one of the worst things I've had to endure."

You giggle. "Honestly. But I—hic! Excuse me. I bet you're regretting throwing up on your friend's hair now. I did it for his sake, after all."

He only looks at you through his glasses. He then gets up from his side of the booth and walks to yours, and you scoot over to let him have a seat. "Nah, don't regret it one bit. Because if I hadn't done it, I wouldn't have you over here laughing and suffering in alcohol with me about it." He maneuvers his hand to rest on your shoulder, and you allow him to move closer to you. "Wouldn't be spending this fun evening with you."

Your eyes hesitantly venture up to his face, welcoming you to the tension that builds up with the lighting and soft music of the diner. His hand rubs on your shoulder in a comforting manner, a gesture you take note of even under the influence. "You know, since you're enjoying having me and all, don't you think I should have a reward for doing your punishment with you."

"And what reward do you have in mind?"

"Can I see them?" You use a finger to motion your own pair of eyes, resulting in the snow-haired man in a short chuckle. But he doesn't argue with you and uses his free hand to remove his shades.

Icy blue is the first thing that comes to mind when you look at his eyes. His orbs are a rarity to the usual crowd, yet they go perfectly with his peachy complexion and pale hair. His orbs hooded and honed in on your figure, appearing soft because of the slight rosy shade of pink on his cheeks. You take in every single feature of his face before speaking.

"Well, I'm starting to see why so many people fall for you, Mr. Gojo." Your face goes hot with the sudden confidence that sneaks within you, yet you continue. "You're very attractive."

He chortles at your comment. "Thanks, dollface. But I don't think it's fair that you only get a reward from me. After all, I almost drowned in alcohol."

You hum. "Fair enough. What would you like?"

His face doesn't change with the following sentence he utters, but you take note of the slight squeeze on your shoulder. "A kiss from the princess would sure warm my heart."

Brows draw upward and breath hitches. A kiss? On the first date? On a blind date?

You don't know what possessed you to do this — it might have been the cocktails. But you incline your face to his and move forwards, your plump lips land on his soft ones for a simple kiss. And with the low hum of his voice, you place another. And another.

When you remove yourself from him, his eyes open to meet yours. A smile gets broader, and so does yours. "You taste sweet," you say.

"So do you." His fingers toy with the strap of your cami top. "Kinda want to kiss you more. And, you know, do a little more, only if you're up for it."

You give him a look. "I believe I just gave you a reward after receiving yours."

"I know, I know," he raises his other hand defensively, but he doesn't remove his smirk. "That's why it's up to you."

You only look at him as he waits for your answer. You already kissed the man; what more is supposed to happen on a blind date? Thoughts on what to do are carefully calculated in your mind, remembering the reason why you're even on this date in the first place. Without Nobara's stupid bet, none of this would be conspiring. Yet simultaneously, it's not like you were having a terrible time. If anything, it was quite the opposite. Not once did you feel uncomfortable around Gojo's presence or feel the need to call off the date. Just enjoying his company and character that attracts you to him more. Even if it means spending the entire night with him.

I'm already deep into this night. What's the use of stopping now.

"So?" Your eyes peer up and down on his figure. "What does 'a little more' entail?"

One moment you and Gojo were enjoying each other's company at a diner, then the date was moved to a different location the next. Now you and the white-haired man are in a cozy hotel nearby. You expressed your worries about Gojo driving you two to the new spot as he still had alcohol in his system. But your complaints fell on deaf ears as he persuaded you into trusting him ("Don't worry, it's like three streets away! Plus, it's almost midnight. No one's on the street." "If you crash us into a pole or something, don't ever ask to talk to me again." "Duly noted~" )

The two of you got yourself into a small hotel room. Soft lighting from the lamps bathes nude bodies lying on the comfortable queen-sized. You mount on top of Gojo, a makeout session warming the two of you up with the exchange of body heat. Sucking and biting each other's lips, his big hand at the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and the grind of your hips on his firm erection makes the throbbing sensation between your legs flourish with your slick painting him.

His kisses trail down to your neck, and you allow him to venture below your clavicle. Pillowy lips pepper your chest and eventually find your breasts, taking a hardened nipple into his warm mouth.

A sharp cry exits your mouth when Gojo lightly teases your nipple with his teeth. "Mmmm! G-Gojo, pleaseee, I want it," your words come out in whimpers, your body quivering as your cunt brushes against his erect cock shielded by a rubber.

"Is that so, dollface?" He coos at your pleas, his hand running up and down the cusp of your ass and slender fingers teasing your aching entrance every time they draw nearer. "Then go on, ride on my dick like you want to."

His permission has your face go hot, but you station your hands on his chest to propel you upwards, admiring the view of him below you for a moment before lifting your ass. He moves his hands behind his head to relax, signaling you to do the work yourself and at your own pace. And with that, you do.

Your bottom raises until you position the tip of his shaft on the squish lips of your folds. Your breath hitches at the contact of his glans. His smooth voice coaxes you. "Relax, sweet thing. Take your time." You take a few moments to even your breathing and mentally prep you for your following actions. Hips gradually go down and push the cockhead further between your folds. Entry is prompted through the pain with every breath, and a sharp gasp lets you know that his girth finally enters you. And Gojo moans as well.

"Hmmm, that's it." He comments sweetly, his blue orbs tracing the union of your sexes. His hands now snake to your hips, and he throws his head back on the pillow under him. "Ready when you are, princess."

When you're ready, you move your hips downward to take in more of his member, the size of him widening your folds to accommodate the foreign limb intruding inside your vulva. His curve nudging your inner walls has your legs quake, and you concentrate on not being hasty and taking his cock all in one go. So once you finally meet the base, you exhale shaky and use a few seconds for your body to adjust.

Knowing you have the reins, you start to move. You start off with a slow speed, letting the feeling of his dick rub your walls in a steady position. Your whining is muffled with the bite of your lip, but not the man below you. He proudly expresses his pleasure in his moans, the hold on your hips getting tighter.

"Haaahhh, so good and tight," Gojo purrs, egging you to dial up your tempo. He notices you biting the bottom of your lip, and he chuckles. "Come on, baby. I wanna hear that cute voice of yours. Lemme hear it all." He then surprises you with a sudden thrust, evoking a choked cry from puffy lips.

You get the memo then and just let the pornographic noises fly, every moan getting higher and louder with the pace of your hips. His length drilling within you with each intake, and you lean forward for your clitoris to stimulate with the friction, causing you to jerk. You can't tell if it's because of the sex or the cocktails from hours ago making your nerves so sensitive and tender. But in any case, it makes you feel so good right now.

And when you lean back, the feeling gets even more ecstatic, resulting in more mewls from you. His dick goes even further than before, grazing your sweet spots and walls with precision with your increased speed. You swerve your hips in circles, having the man groan. To counter, his hand snakes down to your clitoris to play and pinch on, and you scream.

"Ahhhnn! Haaaah, Gojo! It feels so," the sounds of your ass smacking on his things are now apparent to the ears. The raunchy squelching noises of your cunt embarrass you; however, you can't deny the grip your cunt has on his cock with every rock. Your mind slowly descends into a dreamy haze. "Nnnmph!! Feels too goood, wanna commme..."

He opens his eyes to look at you; the erotic display of your nude body bouncing on his shaft turns him on even more. "Yeah, wanna come with me?" You nod lazily, earning another chortle from the man beneath you. "Alright, stay still for me."

It takes you aback when he suddenly moves up from the bed, sitting with his legs crossed under your ass and his handsome face too close to yours. You instinctively avert your gaze away from the frosty-headed other, bashfully turning your face to the side. It amuses him, guiding your face back to him with his hand. "Hehe, don't be scared of me, angel. I wanna see that beautiful face of yours."

Again, you can't tell whether or not it's the effect of the alcohol, but your face and ears go uncomfortably hot at his compliments. And now that his face is so close to yours, you can clearly take in his features. His sky-blue eyes were extremely fixated with yours, softly hooded with the flutter of his snow eyelids and in contrast with his rosy cheeks. Your heart skips a beat. What is with this beautiful motherfucker?! "Stop flirting with me in the middle of this..."

He laughs at your sheepishness, kissing your cheek. "Flirting with you is what got you here in the first place, baby. Now," his hands slither down your ass, squeezing the flesh with his fingers. "I'm gonna start moving — get ready."

He waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck and lift yourself from his legs before he begins moving his pelvis. The rash jabs of his cock leave you gasping for air and clasping around him. He hisses to your ear with his arms now wrapped around your back as he brings up the rhythm of his hips. You're now forced to bounce onto his crossed legs, his dick scraping your insides deliciously so that you can't think properly.

It's now that everything feels better than before; his member now achieving deeper penetration to the point of hitting your G-spot accurately with the underside of him. You no longer try to suppress the sounds leaving your lips, your wails bringing life to the hotel room. And Gojo's moans get louder and louder when your legs slither around him, and your ass matches the climbing cadence.

"Oooooh, fuck, Gojo! Shit, shit—Mmaah!!" With every rut to your cunt, you can feel the pounding of your head get louder and louder. "Oh, Christ, it feels tew good, so gooood...!!"

"Hnngh, mmmnph!!" Gojo groans at the pleasure, placing his sweaty forehead on yours. His eyes survey your certified expression caused by his touch. He chuckles, "You look so cute jumping on my cock like this. Such a pretty angel."

Timid by his words, you shift your face onto his shoulder to shield away from his line of sight. "Haaaah, stop saying stuff like that—Ahhhhhnnn!!"

You shriek when two fingers come down to your clitoris, the digits swiping and pinching the tender bud. "Hiding away from me again, huh, dollface?" He continues to mess with your clit ensuing in choked mewls and tears streaming down your face, and his hips increase in speed.

Your brain is a mushy mess, fighting the right to form coherent sentences. His fingers go at a hurried pace, abusing your clit. You're so close. Almost there. "Ahhh! Ahhhhh! Go-Gojo, pleaseee, I'm gonna cum—Hmmm!! Ahhaaaaaa!!!"

The peak hits you hard like a train, your body shaking uncontrollably on Gojo and his cock, the walls of your cunt fluttering beautifully on his length. And the contraction pushes him to release, his essence captured in the condom to prevent a spill.

Pants and groans fill the hot space between you two, and Gojo kisses your shoulder as the shockwaves die down with every passing second. A wave of calm covers your body while exhaustion crawls up your spine. You lift your head from his shoulder, and he's met with the most beautiful dazed expression he's ever seen.

"Heh, I should drink with you more often if it means I see you like this." He kisses your nose, and you smile.

"Oh, shut up," you remark breathlessly, and your lips meet his. He kisses you without hesitation, bringing you with him as he lies back on the bed. The sounds of his lips smacking with yours fill the room with a romantic glow, and it stays that way even when slumber claims you both.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

You're woken up by some sort of light on your eyelids and the sound of birds chirping. With a few blinks, your eyes open and are met with the sun's glaring rays peeking through the blind of the hotel window. Begrudgingly, you rise from the mattress and stretch your fatigued limbs. A massive headache greets your head without your consent, pounding it like a drum. The sheet above you slips from your figure, and you find out you slept bare nude.

Too flustered for exhaustion to take control, you grab the sheet to cover your chest, afraid that someone would've seen. The headache vanishes into thin air as you whip and search the room. But there's no one here? And you then notice the blue flannel on the side next to you. The side of the man you were on a date with.

Wait? I was with Gojo last night, right? Questions of the night prior finally come to you. Okay, wait, we went to that diner. Then we had those cocktails, which was a bad idea on my part. So what else? Oh. We kissed. Yeah...we kissed...then I got in his car and drove to this hotel room, and then...And then we.....we—

Unable to complete that thought, a sudden click catches your attention, whipping your head to the hotel door to see it open. And there he is.

Gojo enters the room with his clothes back on, his white tee and black jeans. His shades now block the beautiful eyes you had seen last night — perhaps it was a fever dream, imagining that you did see them. He's holding a paper cup, which you could only assume was tea or coffee. When he notices you, he greets you with a smile.

"Well, good morning, sunshine~" his tone gets chipper the closer he walks to the bed. Placing the cup on the bedside before grabbing for his flannel. "I brought you some tea since I'm sure your throat is sore from last night," your face heats up at the comment. "Plus, I didn't want to leave you empty-handed before I head out."

You blink at him. "You're leaving?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Remember my friend I told you about last night?" You nod at him while he ties his blue clothing around his waist. "He texted me earlier, saying something came up with one of our other closer friends, and they need my help. He tried calling me, so I had to leave the room to let you sleep."

You hum at his confession. "I see..." How considerate.

"Hey," He climbs on the bed to be close to you. "Sorry that I can't take you back home or treat you to breakfast or something. Maybe next time."

Now that he's close to you like this, you can make out the implications of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, blue orbs honed in on you and you alone. Your cheeks gradually go warm. "Next time?" You didn't mean for it to be a whisper, too entranced to notice.

He chuckles at your comment, and you swear your heart's beating irregularly. "Yeah, princess. I'd love to see you next time." He draws closer to kiss your forehead, and it takes every nerve in your body to not melt then and there. He then removes himself from the bed, the dent returning to normal now that his weight is off.

Gojo straightens himself and turns away from you. "Alright, I'm off. I'll leave my hotel card by the door. Text me if you need money for an Uber, 'kay?" You hear the door open. "Be good, ya hear!?" He shouts to you from the other side of the room, practically already in the hallway.

"Same to you!" You reply back in the same manner.

"No promises~." And with that comes the sound of the door closing, confirming your isolation in the now quiet hotel room. You're left to properly rekindle everything that led you up to this point, yet even then, you feel so at a loss.

As far as blind dates go — or dates in general — it's safe to say that this was the most bizarre one you've had. Not because anything dire happened. And that's probably the reason why it felt so surreal. You came into this date to release yourself from the shackles of a bet, knowing that you wouldn't see the end of it from your friend if you didn't take care of it with haste.

Nevertheless, thanks to Gojo, it didn't feel like a bet. Not at all. It felt like an actual, fun date with a new person. With a great person at that. Not once did you express any uncomfortable feelings or ill will towards Gojo. And if you did, you're sure he tended to your worries without your knowing.

"I'd love to see you next time."

His words ring in your ear once more, and they resume to do so when you exit from the bed to grab your bag on the chair next to you. You grasp the most necessary item inside — your diary — and sit at the hotel room desk to document your concluding statements appropriately.

...What happened last night was something that I had no vision of seeing. So, now that it did happen, I just feel a little...empty? Probably because I took care of Nobara's bet and don't have to worry about going on another date again.

But, deep down, a part of me wants to do it all again — Not with just anyone, but with him. What we shared yesterday was one of the most refreshing days I've had all summer. Although he was a bit childish for his mature age, maybe that made me like him even more. He was kind to me, funny, and, dare I say, an attractive guy, both in personality and physical appearance.

Thanks for the date, Satoru Gojo. And if you wish to see me again, any time at any place, know that my heart will accept with glee.

˚₊‧꒰ა Bonus ☆ Scene!! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Gojo exits the hotel room and walks down the hall to the elevator, whistling a tune that only he could understand. He presses the button to summon the machine to his floor, and it comes in a few seconds with the soft ding to mark its risen state. And before Gojo could fully get inside, he sensed his phone vibrating in his right jean pocket.

He grabs for it and stops whistling, tapping on the green call button and placing the device to his ear as the elevator doors close. "Morning, you man-bunned prick."

"It's midday, you blue-eyed sheep." A voice comes from the other side of his phone. "Judging by how you didn't know that, you went out last night, didn't you?"

"That's none of your business~," the white-haired man says in a sing-song manner.

"Shut the hell up~," The one on the phone returns the sentiment. "It's not like I don't know practically every person you screwed in the streets with."

The elevator door opens to the main floor, and Gojo exits to head for the entrance. "Yeah, yeah. I will say this: I had a great time with them."

"You say this about everyone who opens their legs for you."

Gojo sucks his teeth. "Well, this one really had me enjoying myself from start to finish. They were fun to be around. Shit, they even made me drink alcohol."

"Really? And you didn't barf on the spot?"

"Fuck off, Suguru." The one from the phone line — now named Suguru — chuckled at the curse thrown his way. Gojo walks out to the parking lot and enters his car. The phone call is transferred to the car's Bluetooth when the engine starts. "I don't know...They were just great to be around, ya know? Haven't had that in a while."

Suguru hums, vibrating the car with the bass systems. "Think you wanna hang with them again?"

"Mmmmm, I'd like to."

The one on the phone chuckles. "Well, don't get to whipped. Especially since you promised to be at Shoko's beach house this month, we don't want you canceling on us again because someone scheduled you for a dick appointment."

Gojo smirks at the comment. "Yeah, I won't. You'll see me." A few seconds of silence follow through until Suguru asks another question to his friend.

"So? How was the sex this time around?"

With a twinge to his lips, Gojo snickers to himself from reminiscing about the events of last night.

"Man, let me tell you..."

— BURN BRIGHT FOR ME | bokuto x fem!reader

-> synopsis: the club isn’t the best place to find a lover but maybe the stage is

-> cw: NSFW, MDNI 18+, smut, stripper!bokuto, brief mentions of alcohol, lap dances, dry humping, cunnilingus, spit, body worship, protected vaginal sex, praise, manhandling, size kink

-> wc: 7k help

-> a/n: this has taken me forever to write so pls don’t let it all go to waste 🥹

The club is heaving, as one would expect on a Friday night, lit up only by dimmed spotlights and chandeliers. A thick fog of white smoke carpets the floor, spilling out from strategically placed machines hidden behind heavy curtains that have now been pulled back for tonight's performance. The air is alive with a buzz of excitement, the tang of alcohol and the sweet scent of women’s perfume clouding your senses where you sit. The table you’re sharing with your friends gives you the best seats in the house, a perfect view of what you’re paying good money to see.

They giggle and chatter and you can’t help feeling a thrill of anticipation run down your spine as the announcer makes her way to the front with a dazzling grin to get the show started. The three of you came here on a whim when you stumbled across one of the performers' social media accounts. Out of mild curiosity, you began to dig through the handsome man’s profile, before discovering a link that took you to the club’s website and before you could think twice, you sent it to the group chat. Needless to say, the girls took one look at the gallery and decided that it would be a crime to pass up the opportunity to see a bunch of muscular men stripping on stage. 

“It’s starting!” Kaori squeals as the lighting is cut out completely, plunging the whole place into darkness. Music pours out from around you, slow and sensual, the beat settling heavily in your bones as it thumps rhythmically. One by one, stage lights burst to life, shining on each performer in time with the music. Every man is clad in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, top hats tipped low to shield their eyes in mystery, giving you only a taste of the sharp line of their jaws, their gloved hands folded neatly over black canes. The last spotlight turns on, right in the centre, revealing the final entertainer of the night. There’s a broad, charming grin on his face as he tips up the brim of his hat and winks at the crowd.

After that, the night becomes a blur.

There’s a lot of giggling, squealing and cheering as you watch performance after performance. After their initial introduction, each dancer has the stage to himself turn by turn, leaving their audience to fan their hot cheeks and toss every bill in their wallets on stage, even tucking them into the waistbands of their impossibly tiny underwear when they get close enough. 

You feel like you’re caught in some delicious daydream, as ridiculously gorgeous men shed their clothes and thrust the air, purely for your entertainment. A few people from the audience are coaxed onto stage for lap dances, and you quickly find that those parts are the most entertaining. The way they encourage their guests to run their hands over their muscular bodies, guiding them gently and whispering things in their ears makes you feel more than a little hot under the collar.

But out of all of them, the one that catches your eye, to no great surprise, is the star of the club. His performance is last and by far the best, in your humble opinion. A murmur ripples through the crowd as he steps on, an easy grin on his face. Almost immediately, the audience begins to chant ‘take it off!’ and he winks, launching into his routine. He’s the only one that has kept the tuxedo as his costume, flinging his hat off into the sea of people before him, revealing bright, golden eyes and salt and pepper hair pushed up and away from his face. 

This man is truly of a different calibre to the rest, you quickly realise. He has a way of hypnotising you with every movement, sensual and fluid as he pulls off his clothes one by one, revealing more and more of his perfectly sculpted form. You can’t tear your eyes away from him or his broad chest. But it’s not just the way he looks - the whole room feels electric from his presence, more bills fluttering around the stage like confetti, your own money joining the fray.

And then you blink and the tip of a cane appears beneath your chin. Your friends are nudging you forwards, encouraging you to accept his invitation and you quickly find yourself placing your hand in his so that he can hoist you onto the stage with him.

“Are you okay being up here?” he murmurs in your ear, guiding you to sit in the chair that has been brought out for this portion of his routine. You nod, taking a seat and willing your heartbeat to slow down. 

“I am. I think.”

Large hands brace themselves on the back of the chair, his forearms bracketing the slope of your neck, trapping you against it. His voice is deep and just a little bit rough but kind nonetheless. “Good. Would you like to touch me?”

You’re taken aback for a moment but the raucous audience encourages you to whisper your assent and he grins wolfishly, causing you to shiver from excitement. He starts by testing the waters, grinding his hips in the tiny space between you, almost brushing against you but staying clear - enough to tempt but not enough to make you uncomfortable. Testing the waters, you suppose. “Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want you to enjoy this.” Shyly, your gaze slides up from your lap to meet his eyes, breath catching in your throat when you meet deep pools of gold. They’re sultry but gentle, bright and beautiful and completely mesmerising, just like the rest of him, if not more. 

“I’m going to take your hands now. Is that okay?” he whispers.

“Yes,” you breathe. At this point, you think you’d agree to absolutely anything he asked of you, completely caught under his thrall. His hands slide down from your shoulders to your wrists, grasping them loosely before he leans back a little and guides your own pair over his torso, letting you run your palms over his taut abs, his skin warm and a little damp with sweat under your touch. Letting go of you for a moment, he grasps his trousers and tugs them off in one quick motion, the sound of velcro pulling apart drowned out by the crescendoing music and more ecstatic cheering. 

Left in nothing more than his too-tight underwear to conceal whatever is left of his modesty, your cheeks flood with heat, and a giddy giggle tumbles from your lips as he begins to lead your hands over his rippling body once more. “You good?” he asks, smirking at the excited twinkle in your eyes.

“So good,” you reply, as he takes your hands lower. 

“How about now?” he snickers, letting your fingers brush over his tailbone. “This okay?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Then let’s take these pretty hands lower.” You allow him to slide your hands down to the pert globes of his ass, your whole face flaming hot as your palms settle there. Releasing them, he grips the back of your chair once again, moving his hips in time with the music as he dips his head until he is but a hair's breadth away from your lips. The rest of the room falls away as his warm breath plays against your lips, the music becoming a dull thud in your ears, like you’re numb to all but the man before you. Euphoria courses through your veins, a new sort of high that you didn’t think you could experience at the hands of a stranger, and yet here you sit, skin tingling and alive from his sheer proximity. 

“Are you gonna kiss me?” you find yourself asking teasingly, and his brows bounce up briefly in surprise as you dare to squeeze his ass. 

“I’m not allowed to do that, I’m afraid.”

“I can touch your ass but can't kiss you?” you pout and he grins.

“Not right now you can’t,” he tells you. “I’m gonna lift you now, okay?” You nod, shrieking in surprise despite the warning when he scoops you up with little to no effort, letting you wrap your legs around his waist whilst your arms loop around his neck. The audience whoops behind you and you can’t help feeling just a little bit smug. 

“Hot and strong,” you flirt. Where has this sudden surge of confidence come from? You’re not usually this brazen. This whole atmosphere is doing something to you. “Careful, or you’ll take my heart along with the rest of my cash.”

“These muscles aren’t just for show,” he says cockily. “Am I okay to dip you a little?”

Nodding, you allow him to flatten his hands against your back and let your torso drop away from him and down towards the floor, eliciting another squeal from you. From there, he lays you on the stage, right on top of his earnings for the night, rolling his whole body as he follows you down in a dive. Looming over you, he checks in with you again, his nose trailing down your throat and between your breasts.

Now, it bears mentioning that there is a reason as to why you are currently trapped beneath a hot stripper, why your friends insisted almost immediately that you pay this club a visit. It’s been an entire year since your fiance broke things off with you, and you’ve spent the majority of that time healing (read: moping). An entire year since you’ve been this close to an attractive man, let alone touched by one. But the extended dry spell of yours ends here, the rains of desire flooding deep in your belly as the man above you rolls his hips into yours and sends your mind spiralling, the half-hard bulge in his underwear dragging over your mound briefly with each sensual snap of his hips

“At least ask me to dinner first,” you joke breathlessly as he drops himself even closer to you, so that there's only a mere sliver of sexually charged air between your bodies.

“Do you want me to?”

“Would you?”

“I don’t see why not. You’re very pretty.” 

“Is that so?” you murmur, belly swooping low with butterflies at the sincerity in his voice. 

“‘Course. You can stick around and see what happens if you like.”

The performance begins to come to a close far sooner than you would like as he lifts you effortlessly into the air once again, placing you delicately on your feet before helping you off the stage. Is it a trick of the light and the result of too much loneliness, or does he keep glancing in your direction as his routine ends? Regardless, you sigh wistfully as he exits the stage, bringing the night of raunchy dances to a close.

“I can’t believe you got to go up there!” Yukie whines from, beside you. “Lucky bitch.”

“It looked like you were talking,” Kaori says, sipping from her martini glass and looking at you pointedly over the rim.

“He was just making sure I was okay with everything,” you say vaguely.

“Aw, that’s actually really sweet!” 

“Right?”

The night wears on and soon enough, your smartly suited waiters are replaced by the performers of the night, much to the delight of every patron in the establishment. They wander around serving drinks and such, wearing dazzling smiles and little else. Secretly, you hope the stripper you briefly flirted with will look in your direction.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” Yukie sighs, shamelessly ogling whoever she could set her greedy eyes on.

“You could always come again,” comes a deep, playful voice. Your head whips up in recognition. Speak of the devil. “Did you ladies enjoy the show?”

The girls giggle and gush to him as he sets down your drinks, his eyes lingering on you as he delicately places your glass before you. You dare not meet his eyes, cheeks flaming as you recall what transpired not too long ago. Ever the entertainer, he chats animatedly with your friends, laughing loudly over the general buzz of the club.

“How about you?” He directs his question at you, his wide grin settling into something more mischievous. “What did you think?”

“Who, me?”

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

“Of my performance, of course,” he says without missing a beat. “They don’t call me a star for nothin’!”

“So it would seem.” It feels like all eyes are on you and this man, Kaori and Yukie glancing furtively between the two of you and this odd tension that seems to simmer in the space between you.

“You didn’t like it?” he asks, almost sullenly, and it’s his tone that makes you look up with a raised brow. 

“No, I did,” you affirm slowly. “I’ve never experienced anything quite like it.”

“Which part was your favourite?” Warmth creeps up your cheeks as your brief time on stage with him quickly flashes behind your eyes. Any confidence you had felt up there really was in the heat of the moment, and you can find no way to slip back into that side of you.

“All of it?” you answer unsurely, trying desperately not to give away that you very much enjoyed being under him. Apparently, it’s the right thing to say, because his bare chest puffs with pride as he comes around to your side of the table, taking the empty seat beside you.

“I’ve got a fan on my hands, huh?” he teases, waggling his thick brows.

“Oh my god,” you mumble, hiding your face in your hands out of embarrassment as the girls around you laugh. Maybe you shouldn’t have said that.

“Hey, hey, c’mon! Don’t get shy on me now!” he complains lightly, lower lipping pushing out in a pout - you can’t help thinking that expression looks downright adorable on him. 

“I’m not!” you insist, sinking lower in your seat, not helping your case in the slightest. 

“I think it’s time for a bathroom break, Kaori,” Yukie announces suddenly and the other girl nods and they rise from their seats in unison. They disappear before you can protest, leaving you alone with him.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says as you watch them leave.

“I didn’t catch yours,” you shoot back reflexively. 

“You want my real name?”

“Of course. A name for a name. It’s only fair, right?”

“I suppose that’s true!” he exclaims. “But don’t let the boss know I told you, ‘kay? It’s kinda against the rules.”

“What an odd rule,” you hum and he shrugs.

“Yeah, something to do with our privacy or whatever.”

“I see. And you’d be willing to share that with a stranger like me?” He chuckles sheepishly and scratches at his jaw. If the lights were any brighter, you’d see the sweet blush staining his cheekbones.

“It would make you not a stranger, wouldn’t it?”

“I suppose that’s true,” you nod, biting your lower lip to halt your grin from widening. Now that there are no eyes on you, you can allow yourself to relax a little.

“Exactly! I’m Bokuto Koutaro,” he says, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You accept, and offer him your own name, to which he beams at you, almost blindingly. “Pleasure to meet you!”

The two of you barely get to strike up any meaningful conversation before the girls reappear, much to your disappointment. Bokuto rises from his seat and gives you an apologetic smile, his eyes lingering on you as he speaks.

“I’ll leave you ladies to enjoy your night.” 

“Actually,” Kaori says slowly, looking between you as she subtly nudges Yukie with her elbow. “We were just about to head to the bar. Right?”

“Huh? But we just got our drin- Oh! Right, right, we were!”

“But guys-”

“See ya later!” they chorus, leaving just as quickly as they came. A moment later your phone lights up with a message in the group chats that reads:

Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do ;)

“That was weird,” he says offhandedly as he sits back down and you hum in agreement, chewing on your lip in thought. It’s quiet for a moment as you sip pensively from your glass, at a complete loss for what to say. Thankfully, it seems he’s used to such lapses in conversation and pipes up. “Actually, how about we talk somewhere more private?”

“Do you talk to all of your customers in private?”

“Sometimes,” he grins, cocking his head to the side playfully. “Sometimes they don’t wanna talk.”

“And what do you do then?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“A gentleman never kisses and tells,” he says and then mumbles under his breath. “Or at least, that’s what Daichi tells me. He’s always so secretive about his customers.”

“Huh?”

“So? Would you like to?”

You blink at him blankly for a moment. Fuck it, you think. I’ll take what I can get at this point. “Why not,” you shrug and take the hand he offers you. Guiding you through the club, the two of you head towards the back, weaving through a maze of tables to pass through a door that deposits you in a quiet, dark corridor.

“Follow me.” The two of you pass by several doors, each emblazoned with a plaque that has a different name etched into it. You quickly realise that these must be the dressing rooms for each performer and after a few more stops, you come to a stop outside of his door. He pushes the door open and pulls you inside. “Welcome to my humble abode. Cool, right?”

The room is brightly lit and littered with scraps of costumes and a pile of loose bills from the night's show. There's a plush sofa pushed against the far wall and his dressing table is littered with cans of hairspray and tubs of gel along with photographs of groups of people that surround his mirror. The room smells heavily of cologne, enough to make your head swim a little. All in all, it’s the sort of space you might expect from a guy like him.

“It’s a little messy, I know, but that’s just how it gets after a show,” he explains, shutting the door behind him. “You should see ‘The Great King’s’ dressing room, it’s way worse, I swear. Anyway, this isn’t what I had in mind. C’mon.”

Bokuto walks towards a door that’s about a foot away from the couch and beckons you over. “Is this the part where you kill me in cold blood,” you joke as you follow him.

“Nah, you’re a little too cute to be my victim.” The compliment is sincere and completely unexpected, causing heat to flood your cheeks. There’s something about him, between the hypnotising presence he has on stage and the sweet, carefree disposition he has off it, that pulls you towards him. Bokuto is magnetic, pulling you into his orbit effortlessly, reeling you in closer and closer, a star burning bright in every way.

This second room is completely different to the first. You wouldn’t call it messy as such, more that it looks lived in. The silky, silvery bed sheets are imperfectly made up, an abundance of pillows sitting against the headboard. The wardrobe is open, but the clothes inside it are neatly hung up and the lights are turned low, a candle flickering softly in the window sill, overlooking the streets below. It smells like cardamom and vanilla, a sweetly comforting blend that wraps around you and makes you feel at ease. Like him, you think idly.

“You live here?”

“Nah, this is just where I crash after a show. It’s like a home away from home y’know?”

“I’m assuming this is where you bring your customers as well?” you ask, pursing your lips and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Nope,” he says, flopping back on the bed and patting the space beside him. “If someone wants to spend the night with me, they usually pay for a hotel room.”

“So why have you brought me here?”

Bokuto shrugs and looks up at the ceiling. “You’re interesting.”

“Let me guess, ‘I’m not like other girls’, am I?” you mock lightly and he laughs, the sound of it endearing.

“Other girls can be interesting, sure,” he says, eyes twinkling as his laughter fades. “But they’re not here right now, are they?”

“Lucky me,” you murmur shyly. “I get to spend the night conversing with the club’s number one stripper.”

“Hey, the people out there would kill to sit where you are. You’re very lucky.”

“You’re not very humble, are you?” you snort.

“It’s true!” 

And it is. There’s no arrogance in his tone, no better-than-you smugness to be found in his handsome face. Sure, he’s a little cocky, but it’s not unfounded and it’s not suffocating either - it’s quite attractive, actually. He speaks the truth every time he opens his mouth, exactly as it is and nothing more. 

It’s easy to talk to him away from the noise of the club, even easier to laugh with him. The two of you migrate from the edge of the bed to sitting against the leather headboard, lounging in his pile of pillows as you talk about everything and nothing. As it happens, he’s also a relatively unknown volleyball player, but the money he earns from it, as much as he adores the sport, isn’t enough to sustain him - hence, the club. 

The night wears on and you slowly grow closer, drawn to one another by some invisible force. You’re laying on your sides, face to face, your hands resting between you, close enough for your fingers to brush. Never in a million years would you expect to be where you are now, laying in bed with a barely clothed stripper way past midnight, in some club you’ve never been to before. In all honesty, this is the first night in a long time that you haven’t paid any mind to your ex. All thoughts of him were trampled into the vinyl flooring the moment you were pulled onto stage. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Sort of.

“Yeah.” 

Bokuto chews his lip, like he’s picking his words carefully. “What made you come here tonight?”

“That question has a few answers,” you sigh but you decide to be honest. After all, there’s no use pretending anymore. “But honestly, it all comes down to my ex.”

“Trying to get over him?” he guesses.

“Something like that. Now that I think about it, I think I’ve been over him for a while. I’ve just been having trouble forgetting him even though it’s been a whole year since we broke up.”

Bokuto nods sagely. “A lot of people come here to forget. Whether it’s relationship trouble or work stress or whatever, it all gets left out there the moment they step through the doors.”

“My brain does tend to empty itself out when I see a hot, unclothed man,” you hum.

He chuckles and gestures with his hand. “There you go.” 

A beat of silence passes, and then it all comes out. “We were supposed to get married,” you tell him quietly. “Everything was perfect. He was the sort of man girls dream about being with, y’know? We were so, so happy.”

“What happened?”

You shrug. “He just left one day. Just poof, vanished. All of his belongings were gone when I woke up. All he left me was a note that said ‘I can’t do this anymore’. That’s all I got.” You laugh humourlessly, picking at the corner of one of his many cushions. “We were on good terms as well! We weren’t fighting, there were no grudges, nothing. As far as I know, he didn’t cheat either. He just… left. I struggled to cope without him for a long, long time.”

“I’m sorry,” he says gently, offering you an apologetic smile. “I know this might not mean much coming from a guy like… well, me.” He gestures vaguely to himself. “But sometimes, you find happiness in the strangest places, places you never thought it would be. You just have to look a little harder.”

“Wow,” you murmur. “That’s quite wise.”

“That’s because I am wise!” he grins proudly, which pulls a giggle out of you and melts the serious air around you. It’s the first time in a good while that you’ve felt a glimmer of hope spark in your heart. You reach out your hand and knit your fingers through his, filled with that same confidence from before that you didn’t know you were capable of.

“Hey, Bo,” you whisper. He hums curiously, golden eyes glowing almost silver as they reflect the moonlight. “Remember what you said? About being a gentleman?”

“Hmm… That we don’t kiss and tell?” He squeezes your hand once, running his thumb over your knuckles in an affectionate manner as you nod.

“Does that apply to me too?”

“Sure it does.”

“So if I kissed you now, would that stay in this room?”

“If that’s what you want, then yeah.”

“What if.” You lick your lips and dare to shuffle closer, until you can make out each of his lashes and all the flecks of amber in his eyes. “What if it was… more than that?”

Reaching out his free hand, he gently runs his knuckles over the swell of your cheek, featherlight and sweet as a whisper. Your eyes flutter shut at his tender touch. Maybe you’re starved for this, any crumb of affection you can get, or maybe the alcohol from earlier still clouds your judgement, but there’s one thing you’re certain of.

You can’t get enough of him.

“It can all stay in here.”

Your mind is made up. Reaching out, you run your fingers over his lower lip, breath catching in your throat as he catches your wrist and stills your hand. Gold burns deep into your soul as he flutters little kisses over your fingertips, dragging his lips down to your palm and then to the inside of your wrist, right where your erratic pulse resides. His lips are warm and soft, curling into a lopsided smile as he suddenly pulls you towards himself, simultaneously twisting himself onto his back. You land half on top of him, bashfully averting your gaze from his.

“Hey,” he murmurs, tipping your chin up. “Eyes on me.” Your mouth feels too dry to spit out a response so you nod, your faces inching closer together until you can feel the warmth of his breath waft over your lips. “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

When he speaks, you can feel his lips ghost over yours in a barely there kiss that makes your heart pound. Who eliminated the gap between you, you’re not certain, but suddenly his mouth is on yours and your fingers are buried in his hair and before you know it, you’re straddling his waist in a desperate attempt to get closer. Someone whines as tongue joins the equation and what begins as tentative and sweet, becomes needy and shameless.

You’re panting into his mouth as your kisses grow messier, unable to still the rocking of your hips right over his half hard cock. There’s been a storm brewing in the darkest depths of your belly all night, and now lightning crackles through your veins whilst thunder takes up residence in your ribcage.

“You sure you want this?” Bokuto grunts as you roll your hips on him just right.

“Do I seem unsure to you?” The breathless sarcasm isn’t lost on him and he huffs out a laugh, his large hands squeezing at the soft flesh of your hips so that he can help guide your movements.

“Just making sure.”

“I’m so glad you’re not wearing anything,” you huff against his mouth. Your hands are greedier than your eyes, wandering every inch of his bare skin. Strong muscles ripple and twitch under your touch, and if you knew him any better, you’d know that he’s actually squirming because he’s ticklish everywhere. “You’re so hot, Bo.”

“Yeah?” he gasps. “Hotter than all the others, right?”

“Way hotter,” you affirm, attaching your lips to his throat and sucking roughly.

“Good. You tryin’ to leave a mark or something?” he chuckles, his hands sliding back to grope at your asscheeks, the fabric of your dress bunching up between his fingers.

You pull back uncertainly, lips kiss-swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. “Is that okay?”

Brushing your hair back, he tugs you back in and kisses you softly and for a moment, it feels like you’re lovers. Like it’s not just your bodies that are about to become intertwined, but your hearts will be entangled too, each vein and artery criss-crossing until you share every beat, every drop of blood. 

“It is,” he whispers. All of a sudden, he flips you without any effort, pressing your back into the pillows as he hovers over you, smirking at your surprised little gasp. “But I think you deserve all the attention tonight. Whaddya say?”

Swallowing hard, you nod, relaxing back as he carefully unzips your dress and peels it off you, leaving you in nothing but a thin lacy bra and panties. Any shyness is forgotten as he eyes you hungrily, the prominent bulge in his underwear filling you with an odd sort of pride. You sit up a little and reach behind you, unhooking the band of your bra and tossing it aside, before hooking your fingers into your underwear and tugging them off as well.

“I wanted to do that,” he pouts, his hand coming up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing lightly so that it bulges between his fingers.

“You haven’t taken off enough clothes for one night?” you joke, settling back again.

“Yeah but they weren’t yours, were they? It’s different.”

“And mine are special, are they?”

“You are,” he says honestly. “I wanted to take my time for once. I don’t know what it is, but with you I want this to last. It’s the least you deserve.”

His name falls from your lips, more delicate than a feather, your whole core throbbing with need. There is no name for this flutter in your heart, no words to explain why you feel this inexplicable need to keep him all to yourself. Bokuto belongs to the world, but right now he is yours alone. Should anyone take him from you at this moment, your heart would surely break.

“Call me Koutarou.” He smiles at you sweetly, completely at odds with how he parts your legs and settles between them, roughened palms gliding over the bare skin of your thighs. A deep, happy hum rumbles in his chest as you whisper his name. Dipping down, he presses haphazard kisses in the wake of his touch, wet little pecks that make you shiver the closer he gets to your centre. You know you’re soaked. You can feel the stickiness that drools out of you, slipping dangerously close to the bed sheets as he pushes your legs even wider.

More kisses cover your inner thighs, the odd playful nibble making you gasp as he decorates your skin with spit, teeth marks and blooming bruises. Your hands sink into his hair, surprisingly soft as your fingers comb through the salt and pepper strands. And then his mouth reaches its destination and your grip tightens as he licks a long, flat-tongued stripe, ass to clit and spits on your syrupy flesh.

Owlish eyes bore into yours, dark with lust as he swirls the wet muscle over your sensitive bud before sucking into his mouth. The pleasure spikes suddenly and your hips buck, need bubbling hot and quick in your belly. Before you can ask him to slow down, he releases your clit and laps at your folds experimentally before he dips his tongue into your entrance. He may have said that this is all for you, but judging by the way his eyes roll back into his skull and he groans long and deep, it’s safe to assume that he finds pleasure in this too.

“Kou-” you whine as he buries his face deeper into your cunt, drinking from you as if he’s never tasted a drop of water in his life. The sounds coming from his mouth grow more obscene the longer he spends ravaging you with his mouth, loudly slurping and grunting against you like a starved beast. Your eyes squeeze shut against the ecstasy, hips rolling into his no doubt dripping face, fingers so tight in his hair that if he moves wrong, you might pull out a small clump of it.

But Bokuto seems oblivious to any pain, so drunk on the taste of you that he barely even comes up for air. When he does pull back for the briefest moment, his chin and lips glossy and his eyes full of stars, he smacks your thighs and huffs in mild annoyance, keeping you warm and pliant with two thick fingers buried inside you. “Don’t close your eyes,” he tells you as he licks his lips. “Look at me. Look at what I’m doing to your sweet pussy.”

And he dives back in for more.

“I want you to cum on my face,” he mumbles into you as he feels you tighten around his fingers. “I want it.”

You can barely think straight, but you manage to stutter, “I-I thought this was about me.”

“Baby, it is, it is,” he groans, flicking his tongue rapidly over your stiff clit and forcing your back to arch. “‘S all about you. But I should get a reward for making you feel so good, right? That’s what I want.”

This time, you don’t respond, so overcome with pleasure that every vein in your body brims with crackling lightning, sparking scalding hot in your belly until finally, it bursts and you tumble over the edge with a sharp cry of his name. Even as your body trembles under his hands, he continues to lick at your pussy, catching every last drop of cum that leaks out of you, only stopping when you whimper and push his head away. “T-too much.”

Moving up the bed, he kisses you, licking heavily into your mouth and pushing the taste of your own juices onto your tongue. His cock is hard, twitching against your thigh. At some point, he must have shed the last scrap of cloth shielding his modesty and now you can feel every thick inch of him. Bokuto pulls away and you look down, your eyes almost bugging out of your skull at what you see.

“Fuck.”

Golden eyes follow your line of sight, a soft blush colouring his cheeks as they land on the little wet spot that formed on the bed under where he had been. “I got a little carried away,” he says sheepishly, evidence of his own need leaking freely from his flushed cockhead.

“It’s so big,” you blurt out.

“Huh? What are you- Oh! Oh, that’s what you were looking at,” he laughs. “I, er, get told that a lot.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you mumble under your breath. However, lust begins to overshadow logic the longer you look at his dick, drooling precum and painfully hard. You wonder if your hands would fit around it, if it would break your jaw if you tried to put it in your mouth, if-

“Don’t worry.” His warm voice cuts off your thoughts as his hand runs soothingly over your tummy, dropping to a whisper. “We can make it fit.”

Bokuto reaches into his bedside drawer and pulls out a foil packet, quickly tearing it open and rolling a condom over his cock. Part of you deflates as he covers it but you suppose it makes sense. In the blink of an eye, he’s on you again, kissing you deeply as he pulls your thighs around his waist and sits back on his haunches.

Taking himself in hand, he guides the blunt tip of his cock through your dewy folds, gathering your arousal and spreading down with his hand as he pumps himself. “Ready?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Anticipation thrums under your skin as he prods at your fluttering hole, slowly dipping inside it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your cunt swallows the bulbous tip, hot and tight around him. He feels so dizzyingly good, that it takes every effort not to slam into you and fuck you until you weep. A whimper catches his attention, his gaze flicking up to see your face scrunched in discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

“F-fine, it's just a lot.”

“Believe me, I know,” he grunts, massaging circles into your hip with one hand, the other playing gently with your clit. “Just relax, baby.”

His hands distract you a little from the dull burn you feel at the edges of your stretched entrance, but it ebbs as he starts to shallowly thrust his hips, popping the head in and out of you, pushing in just a little further each time to accustom you to his sheer size. After a while, he meets resistance, his balls pressed up against your ass once he’s fully inside, your walls hugging him tightly. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he whines, pearly teeth pressing into his lower lip, his thick brows knitting together as you squeeze around him, sweat beading at his forehead.. You’re half delirious yourself, feeling so full that you fear you might come apart at the seams. You wouldn’t mind that, you think - as long as it’s him unravelling you.

You squirm, voice thin and breathy. “‘M so full.” 

“Can I move?” You don’t even answer him and his hips are already grinding into you. “Please let me move.”

“Fuck me, Koutaro,” you mewl, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. “I want you.”

Barely able to hold back, Bokuto does just that. He fucks you like it’s his sole reason for existing. Every snap of his hips, every time his cock drags against your insides and bumps up against that delicate bundle of nerves, has you moaning wantonly, uncaring of who might overhear.. His heavy thrusts split you open, pushing you further into the pillows every time he slams into you.

“So perfect,” he moans. “Can’t get enough of you.”

It’s easy to forget that Bokuto’s physique isn’t just for display. Before you realise it, he’s pinning your thighs up against your body, your feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he forces you further into the mattress. Like this, he’s even deeper, impossibly so, stroking places inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pure ecstasy courses through your body, your mouth hanging open as he fucks you harder, pulling sounds from your chest you didn’t think you were capable of making.

Despite how rough and desperate it is, he leans down and kisses you, his hips still pistoning in and out of you. When his lips meet yours, when he pants and moans into your mouth between messy kisses, you feel that fluttering in your chest again. Perhaps you're just drunk on pleasure, but it feels like love and devotion and everything you thought you’d never feel again at the hands of another. Tears prick at your eyes, half from emotion and half from being pounded so thoroughly, so you cling to him tighter and choke out his name like a prayer, over and over.

“Kou- Koutaro, ‘m so close,” you sob.

“Yeah?” he pants. “Gonna cum for me, aren't you? All for me. Only for me.” His fingers find your clit and all it takes are a few tight, wobbly circles before you’re falling apart on his cock, your tits pressed tight against his chest as you crumble to pieces. He fucks you through it, his thrusts growing sloppy and disjointed before he too reaches his peak with a loud, open-mouthed moan, each spurt of his cum filling the tip of the condom.

The two of you stay like that for a moment, sweaty and clinging to each other, your thighs trembling from the aftershocks, an ache settling in your muscles from the position you’ve been folded into. Bokuto drops his forehead to rest against your own and you wish that you could stay with him like this forever. But all too soon, he’s pulling out and you both hiss, leaving you to feel empty and lonely once again.

“You good?” he murmurs and when you nod, he gently lowers your legs to the mattress before he quickly hops off the bed and discards the condom. Forlornly, you sit up, glancing around the room for your clothes. There’s no doubt that now that this is over, you’ll part ways and this will all become a distant memory. You’ll compensate him for his time, as you’ve heard some people do, and that will be that.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as you start to slip your arms through the straps of your bra.

“Getting dressed?” He makes a confused face and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Why?”

“... Isn’t that what usually happens?”

“Yeah, but not after one round,” he chuckles, plucking out another foil packet from the drawer. “The night is still young.”

“Oh. I see.”

“You don’t want more?” His tone is a little dejected and you smile at him halfheartedly.

“Of course I want more,” you say softly, your words carrying more weight than you can stand. “I want so much more.”

“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he promises, cupping your cheek and raising your head so that you can see the honesty shining in his eyes. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “And even when we are done, I was hoping you’d stay to cuddle.”

You feel yourself soften and grow hopeful. “Is it normal to do that after fucking a customer?”

“Not really. It’s also not normal to want to take my customers to brunch the morning after.” He sounds shy and hopeful and you want to kiss him all over again.

“Oh.”

“So?” Tentatively, he hooks a forefinger through your limp bra strap and cocks his head to the side. “What do you say? Would you want that?”

Holding his gaze, you wrap your hand around his and free his finger from the garment and tug him towards you, a giddy smile curling at your lips. “Yes,” you breathe, pulling him into a gentle kiss. “I want it. I want you.”

-> tags: @burnishedcrown @bigbadwolfwood @quaranweeb @crysugu @autumnalsteahouse @kuroosexuall @pressed-flower-journal @petriquors @tteokdorokimain @oinksa @unknownspecies @strawberrystepmom

Need sukuna in racer au 😩

REWARDS FROM A RACER

a/n: more of smut than him being a racer …. im not opposed to doing a ‘how they met’ ngl

wc: 2.1k

warnings: ooc sukuna, dom!sukuna, lewd declarations in public, he’s a little mean and calls you ‘whore’, ‘slut’, praise, degradation, pet names, car sex, semi-public sex, oral (m! receiving), light face-fucking, unprotected sex, riding, p → v penetration, clit stimulation, dash of daddy kink, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“doll, c’mon, we don’t have much time till the race starts.” 

“i know, ’kuna! give me a minute, ’m just tightening the screws on the crankshaft.” you already hear the joke from miles away, a soft chuckle comes after he mumbles “heh, shaft” and you resist the urge to roll your eyes while stifling a smile. it seems like sukuna had enough of waiting for you in the driver’s seat, so he meets you at the front of the car where the hood is popped.

if anyone told you sukuna was someone who would’ve made time for anyone else but himself, you would laugh in their face because when had ryomen “king of curses” sukuna ever thought about anyone but himself? he had all that he could have: a ’66 Ford GT40 (that he named king of curses — a tad bit goofy, he knows), girls on his arm, first place for every race he took part in. he was untouchable.

but during a night in the midst of a drag race he saw you outside a club, barely catching a glimpse of you shoving off a man who couldn’t take no for an answer. he wasn’t surprised to see kenjaku — another racer from another region and someone who he had an infamous rival with — laugh when he had come to your rescue, cut off when the king of curses landed a clean hit to the other’s face. sukuna made sure you were okay after the whole debacle, but he also fucked you silly to show you how a man should really be treating you.

it was the only race he ever lost.

“sometimes i forget how much shit you put up with when you’re with me,” sukuna grins, a sneaky hand moving from your waist to your ass to squeeze it, “fixing my engine like an obedient little girl.”

you simply turn to him with a bored expression, but you can’t deny the throb between your legs when he talks to you like that, “glad you’re self aware, ’kuna.”

“smart mouth you have there, hm?” sukuna pulls you even closer against his front and you can already feel the half-hard bulge there. he’s always hard before a race, too. that you know, because it’s an emerging characteristic of his that you’re not opposed to because sukuna ends up pounding into you in his driver’s seat once the race is finished. he just can’t help the adrenaline, can’t he?

“guess i’ll just have to ruin you,” sukuna cuts off your next reply with a messy kiss, swallowing the soft moans that leave your mouth at the temporary relief you’re getting from grinding on him, “later.”

you scoff, feigning annoyance, “yeah, yeah, i know. you never miss a race.”

sukuna just smiles, smacking your ass slyly and makes his way to the driver’s seat before you have time to gasp, simply raising an eyebrow (“don’t tell me you didn’t like that?”) when you slap his chest later in the passenger seat.

“oh god, he’s going to do that thing again right?” beside you are the other more prominent racers of tokyo, the famous four excluding sukuna. gojo is the one who asked the question, nudging you with a grin that’s got you groaning into your hands. slowly, you nod.

across from you is sukuna in his Ford GT40, shouting with his windows rolled down, “i’m gonna fuck you so good after i win this race, princess!” and while you’re turned on at the prospect, you’re also wincing at how everyone whoops and cheers because he does this in every race. it never gets old, though, just as the laughter of the other four floods your ears.

“do you really have to scream it every time?” you lean down to the window once the two cars are at the starting line, running a hand through his mildly sweaty locks. his perspiration is a little pink from the dye he’s used to top up the colour of his hair and you jokingly wipe your wet hands on his top.

sukuna grabs your wrist, pulling you gently to give you a noisy, sloppy kiss, his words whispered against your lips, “they have to know how you scream every night.”

you tsk with a laugh, hand reaching down to palm his dick that makes him grunt, “give ’em hell, baby.”

and he definitely makes the other wish he never was born. sukuna likes to play dirty, bumping into the rear of the other when he’s behind, sending a middle finger to the racer when he passes him, it’s part of why your boyfriend tends to prefer solitude because he’s not on everyone’s good side.

with skidding tires, sukuna finishes with a dashing grin, but he’s so focused on you that he doesn’t realise the crowd around him, some reaching forward to congratulate him, others wanting to touch his car. the racer barks out before anyone can violate his ride.

“oi, you fuckin’ idiots dare touch my car and i swear i’ll fuck up yours.”

beside you, geto mutters out a yeesh while gojo just giggles, patting your shoulder before you bid goodbye to the famous four. the crowd makes way for you, naturally, when you walk towards his car, because what kind of mental person willingly dates sukuna? they follow your figure as you make your way to him, swaying your hips for everyone to see, but you hardly care when all you can fixate on is his promise to you before every race starts.

and all he does that night is fulfil his promise, whisking you away from the cramped parking lot and into the late tokyo roads, whizzing past street lamps and cop cars and howling at the top of his voice. he loves it, he loves you and you see it every time he drives you home after a late night race and every time he noisily drives up to you when someone’s bothering you.

sukuna loves your body, too, because all you know later on is his cock in your mouth on a quiet, remote mountain used for drifting. with the winter season approaching, it was desolate, except for the way your head bobs up and down on his length, which hardens even more inside your mouth.

“that’s it, fuckkk yes.” sukuna groans, a hand clutching onto the leather of his seat while the other finds purchase in your hair, pulling on your locks till it hurts. with his hips moving erratically paired with the soreness in your jaw, it’s really the only thing you can concentrate on in an awkward position while hovering over the stick shift. “suck like the dirty cockslut you are.”

“’kuna, mmfhh—!” your hands rush to find his thighs on a particularly deep thrust, tip hitting the back of your throat and you look up at sukuna through teary lashes and breathe through your nose before he lets you off briefly. but your mouth is too warm just like how your pussy feels and sukuna forces your head onto him again.

sukuna groans when he lets you do your own thing, mouth taking half of him while your hands help you with the other, alternating between taking sucking the bottom of his cock and lapping at his tip, continuing to flutter your lashes at him.

“stick out your tongue f’me, doll,” he manages to choke out a moan, grabbing his cock to slap it on your tongue (it’s so heavy that you moan), making lewd sounds before he starts thrusting again, feeling every inch of your mouth with no time to warn you of his impending orgasm until the car is filled with his incessant groans and grunts, hips faltering at how your mouth just keeps sucking. “fuck— i’m cumming.” sukuna spills unexpectedly, shooting his cum deep down your throat and you moan around his shaft. he’s not laughing now, focused solely on getting every last bit of cum into your system as he tilts his head back in utmost pleasure. 

“take all of it,” his movements slow down, admiring how you look like you worship him with a lax mouth and pleading eyes, and he knows you do, but before that he’s ensuring you know that his worship of you overtakes yours by miles, pulling you impatiently to his seat before dragging your panties to the side. the other likes it when you wear skirts, easy access he says, licking his lips in anticipation when he sees how the fabric sticks to your cunt from how wet you were, leaving a string of arousal that snaps once it’s far enough.

“well? what’re you waiting for?” sukuna raises an eyebrow, a small chuckle leaving him when you mumble out a i’m getting to it! as you gather the slick leaking from your needy pussy. the feel of his mushroom tip against your clit is gratifying and you line him up before sinking down slowly. even after taking him multiple times, his size always makes your eyes widen and jaw drop at the stretch, incoherent whimpers leaving as he watches you take all nine inches of him.

“s’kuna, f-fuck…” you wrap your arms around his neck, suddenly shy at being so spread open for him to see, “s’big, you’re so big!” he hums, pressing little kisses down the side of your face while kneading your ass, plush thighs nestled around his pelvis so cutely that he appreciates your brief pause before you start riding him — because he can’t resist cumming when he sees you crying on top of him, trying his best to prolong the way you feel around him.

“i know i’m big, but you’re taking me so well, aren’t you, baby?” sukuna coos, holding your eyes that struggle to stay open as you bounce on his thick cock, ass meeting his hips in noisy pap’s as you flood his car with whining pleas of him filling you to the brim. there’s a white ring of pre-cum at the base of his shaft where your juices mix, dripping down the hilt and onto his balls, definitely soaking his leather seats. “just a whore for me to fuck stupid, yea?”

you nod frantically, babbling to no one as you throw your head back, pussy clenching when his lips meet your tits and he sucks hard on your nipples, flicking his tongue around your buds before moving to the other. “got so t-tight from me doing that,” sukuna laughs, wrapping a hand ’round your chin to force you to look at him. lips pursed, eyes blown wide from his cock in your cunt, hair sticking to your forehead, he swear he could cum deep in you right there and then.

“you love how i stretch you out?” he then yanks your head down to make you watch how your pelvis meets his, juices spurting in all directions by how wet you were. it truly was a sight, how his cock disappears into you and reappears, thighs burning from how fast you were bouncing on him.

“love it s’much, daddy,” you whine, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you grab his free hand, bringing it to your neglected clit that’s been throbbing all night, “but i n-need you here, s’kuna…” and when he starts to rub circles into your puffy clit, you jolt at the feeling, screaming out obscenities at the sensations that overwhelm your body. he knows you’re getting tired and close, too.

so he shocks you by thrusting up, your body immediately halting to receive the way he rails into you and while your muscles are still cramping, it’s infinitely better than riding him. with his thrusts and his hand on your clit, you can already feel the coil in your stomach turning as your body slumps against him, “daddy!”’s spilling from your lips with mixed wanton moans. “that’s it, a good little slut who’s taking daddy’s cock, fuck—”

“so warm, and tight,” within seconds, his thrusts are irregular when you start to clench around him again, high-pitched whines filling his ears before you reach your high with a slack jaw and trembling thighs, body lined with sweat. but it’s the way your cum leaks down his length that gets sukuna releasing after you, the familiar pleas of wanting his cum deep in your cunt. he does just that, grunting into your neck when his hips thrust deeply before he releases his hot, thick semen into your pussy, gushing out because there’s just so much.

“love it when i breed my girl,” he mutters with a laugh breathlessly while you’re moaning softly at how he’s still spilling into you, overflowing cum leaking from your cunt even when he’s still inside. sukuna grins when your hips never really stop, still continuing to grind aimlessly.

“love my sweet girl who can’t think of anything but getting fucked stupid.”

DILF BOKUTO KOUTARO X TOJI FOSHIGURO

BEEFY MEN- Bokuto x fem!reader x Toji

►Masterlist

Warnings: Smut ofc. TITS, threesome, Double penetration, TWO THICK COCKS THAT YOU CAN BARELY FIT INSIDE.

WITH US?? HAVE YOU SEEN THEM?? MY TIDDIES KINK GOES BRRRRR. Okay so here we gooooo.

Bokuto had you on top of him, ass on his crotch and spine on his chest. His tits were constantly rubbing against your back as his dick did the same inside your ass. His arms had you gripped tight.

You were loosing your mind already but oh wait there was more. YOU FUCKING GASPED WHEN TOJI PUSHED HIS THICK COCK IN YOUR CUNT. Walls fluttering when they had TWO BIG DICKS buried in them.

"Tell us if it's too much", Bokuto kissed your ears.

"It's never much for her. I bet you want more baby", he leaned down, face close enough for a kiss but you frowned in pleasure when he slowly thrusted in you. ALSO STIMULATING KOU'S COCK.

"F-fuck Toji. You're big man", he moaned in your ears but vocal enough foe the one who the compliment was intended to.

"Not thick as you man. You had her crying", he gripped Bokuto's hip and started thrusting while Bo was buried deep in your ass, enjoying the rubbing of your walls and his dick.

You kept eyeing his tits all the time. "Wanna suck them?", Toji platonically asked, catching you leering. You didn't utter a single world and took his nipples in your mouth, sucking on them like a desperate whore.

Toji took off his hands from Kou's waist and grabbed his chest. "Shit. Ohh you're so good at your ways DADDY", the name he called Toji turned him on and made him pinch his nipples in excitement. "AH!", Bokuto was so fucking eager, enough that he started thrusting in you. You wailed in pain and pleasure. THE ACE was slow and sensual while THE ASSASSIN was intense and deep.

How did you end up here? With two men that are SO BEEFY and SO HOT. No one knows. But you're glad that you did.

Tags- @megumislonghair @megumifushi @honouredsatoru @tojisveryown @sookyshima @laraazoldyck @laudthingcat @noritoshiikamo @duskamethyst @sixeyesgojo @katsukichu @thighridingsamu @kotarousgf @jintaiyang @aizameow @lazy10ieiri @hyenalite @vixan-ix @half-baked-biscuit @otaku-baka @lillina @jjstsksen @tetsunormous @dukina @Jjgank