tae!

One must kneel down on one knee if ever in his presence, head facing the ground while the old man spoke of whatever devious mission was awaiting.

Aside from that, you could do whatever you want.

Wear whatever you want.

Train however you want.

Kill whoever you want.

Granted, you and every other member of his devilish crew were given a variety of clothing, all branded with a symbol—a half black, half red circle—attached to every single clothing item.

Housing was provided in the form of decently sized bunkrooms to the west of headquarters, but it was rather pointless.

Only a fool would fall asleep in the company of fellow immoral Curse Users and assassins.

It was also wise to engage in as little chatter as possible during mealtime. Who knew if one of your dear comrades would take the opportunity to slip some poison into your bowl of ramen while you interacted with another individual, daring to close your eyes while laughing softly?

Around here, within the grey stone walls of headquarters, jealousy was as deadly as a cursed technique. Mr. Hansul would assign missions to Curse Users based on their skill level and spirited talent, and therefore, when the greedy old man wanted to be the one to proudly hang the world’s strongest sorcerer’s head on his wall, it was rumored that he’d pick you for such a daunting task.

Every single member of Mr. Hansul’s group, The Cursed Assassins Association, wanted to be the one assigned to kill Satoru Gojo. Doing so would not only bring honor to the CAA, but to every Curse User forced to live in a divided world where Jujutsu Sorcerers were seen as gods. Curse Users, however? They were pure devils.

Therefore, if Mr. Hansul would truly pick you for such an honorable assignment, you would have to play it safe.

Sleep with a knife tucked underneath your pillow.

Eat as far away from everyone else as you could.

Never let your guard down.

Mr. Hansul might have only had one rule, but you had several.

–

Around the second week since the rumors of the Chosen Assassin were born, two of Mr. Hansul’s escorts led you to his office. They approached you in the middle of your training session, the only time of day in which you happened to be as far away as possible from the office belonging to your boss. And, naturally, you couldn’t help but fixate over the distance, as with every step you made down the dark and haunting halls of headquarters—the clanking of your boots echoing like a broken record—you were reminded of just how far away his office was.

Damn him.

He knew exactly what he was doing when he undoubtedly stroked his hideous goatee, squinting his soulless black eyes as he ordered his guards to fetch you during your training session. You were forced to walk down almost every hallway, turn every corner, and climb every step within the base of operations for the CAA in order to reach his office. Because of that, all of the other assassins saw you.

They stopped chewing their meals. They stopped mid combat with their trainers. They stopped their conversations as they wandered down the poorly lit halls. All to watch you being escorted to Mr. Hansul’s office.

All to watch you walk towards your destiny; a fate each of them desperately wanted.

When you finally arrived outside of the heavy double doors, the escorts opening them for you to let you in, you immediately dropped your gaze. After a few more heavy steps, you kneeled down on one knee in front of your boss. After many years of taking this position in front of him, you became more familiar with the appearance of his feet instead of his face.

“Good afternoon, sir.” Your greeting was flat. Stale. Like a dead river.

“Hm,” he breathlessly replied.

It was only a small huff, but it was laced with degradation. Thick with venom. It was more than obvious that he was a soulless soul who worked harder than the devil.

“Sorry to interrupt your training,” he teased unpleasantly, “but I have an assignment for you.”

“Sir.”

“It’s a simple mission, one that I expect you to complete quickly and effortlessly. You are to kill Satoru Gojo. When you’ve succeeded, bring me the body.”

“So…the rumors were true,” you thought.

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t think that I-”

“Let me remind you as to why I summoned you at this particular hour. Let me remind you of why I let the news circulate for two entire weeks before calling you into my office,” he raised his raspy voice. “I wanted your comrades to be well aware that you are the one I am trusting with this task. It encourages jealousy. Jealousy encourages hatred. And, lastly, hatred encourages murder.”

“I understand. My comrades want to kill me now. How does that benefit you, then? Why do you want them to hate me?”

“Because, it’ll motivate you to accept this assignment. If you turn it down, you could be murdered in your sleep out of pure jealousy. If you agree, and should you return victorious, no one here would dare to lay a finger on you.” He gave a sinister chuckle. “And, well, if you don’t succeed, it’ll only be because Satoru Gojo killed you. Either way, the choice is yours.”

“Sir.”

And with that, you were dismissed. You were dismissed with a choice. Life or death. Life and death.

Truth be told, you wanted to be the one to take Satoru Gojo’s life with your entire heart and soul. You couldn’t stand the humanlike god. His influence upon the world of curses was the exact reason why there was such a divide between Jujutsu Sorcerers like him, and Curse Users such as yourself. By his standards, which set the tone for the rest of the world, you were all monsters. You deserved nothing. You all made the cruelest devil look like the pure, charity-driven, peace-making priest. One who probably devoted their time to feeding homeless children on Sunday afternoons.

Be that as it may, someone needed to teach the white-haired bastard a lesson. As you gathered your belongings, leaving the CAA headquarters as quickly as you could, you could only hope that a real god would let you succeed in taking down the wannabe.

–

The green leaves danced in the swirling wind. The nightly breeze made every tree wave their branches, and the enormous land howled with the sharp swishes of restless woods.

Even nature itself had to witness the death of Satoru Gojo, who walked out from behind a thick tree.

He had sensed an evil presence while making his way across town, and followed it into the middle of nowhere. That was when he saw you, standing there, waiting patiently to take his life. You had successfully drawn him out.

“I see you picked a place with lots of land. That’s smart, I’ll give you that,” he stepped towards you, his blindfolded eyes scanning over your mysterious figure. “Who are you? And what exactly do you want?”

“Knowing who I am won’t do you any good,” you frowned. “You’ll be dead soon enough.”

The wind whispered, filling the thick silence that followed your threat.

“Ya know, I take back what I said, now that I think about it,” he scratched the back of his head. “You picked a horrible place to fight. The moon as our only source of light? You gotta be kidding me. Can you even see me right now?”

Your frown deepened. It was as if the surrounding winds had managed to blow your threat away, carrying it off into nothingness as if you had said nothing at all. You told the icy white-haired man that in a few simple moments, he would actually meet his creator, and yet, it was like he viewed death as a mundane chore.

Either that, or he simply didn’t think you could kill him.

“So,” Gojo cleared his throat following your bitter quietness, stuffing his large hands inside of his packets. “That’s a nice pin. I’m guessing you’re one of Mr. Hansul’s little assassins, right? Don’t tell me the big guy didn’t wanna come out and see me himself.”

“Well,” a cruel grin appeared across your face, “I have a feeling that he’ll be seeing you. When I deliver your dead body to him, of course.”

“That’s cute. Did you practice saying that in the mirror?”

Your grin vanished. And he smirked.

“What’s your name?” Gojo questioned, daring to take a few steps in your direction when you failed to respond to his teasing.

“Why do you wanna know my name so badly?”

“Maybe it’s polite to introduce yourself to the person you’re trying to kill.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t aggravate the person who’s here to kill you.”

“Ha,” Gojo tossed his head back with a laugh. It was like he was having an ordinary chat with an old friend about a football game, discussing the latest scores and fumbles before asking for another beer. “You summoned me out here, sweetheart. Don’t cha think that you’re aggravating me by interrupting my day?”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of you.” The stern words fell from your lips, and with that, you gripped the hand blades dangling from your belt.

One sharp blade was placed in between each of your gloved fingers. Releasing your sweet, cursed energy into them, they took their own special form, and hovered in the space between your fingers.

One wave of your hand would send them flying in any direction at the speed of lightning, the thick aura of your cursed energy ready to pour into your chosen target. Even if the target could somehow manage to move or dodge, your blades would always find them. Once your blades touched your target, it would burn through them, and continue to push through their bodies until they were dead.

Or you released the blades.

But the latter hadn’t happened yet.

You launched them at Gojo with a grunt, and since you truthfully didn’t have time to mess around—unlike most predators who wanted to play with their prey—you aimed for Gojo’s heart.

Four incredibly sharp, flying, and burning blades were coming his way. Even so, he didn’t remove his hands from his pockets. He didn’t try to dodge. His hair didn’t even blow in the wind.

You didn’t have any time to question his intentions, as when your blades were a couple of inches away from that beating muscle inside of his chest, they stopped.

Your blades fell to the ground, laying at his feet like an abandoned toy.

He stepped on them as he made his way closer to you.

“So, as I was saying,” he started, “Since you’re aggravating me and interrupting my day, you should be the one to introduce yourself. I mean, I don’t mind going first if you’re the shy type. I’m Satoru Gojo, but I think you might know that already.”

“How the hell did you…” you gulped, your eyes widening as the realization truly started to kick in. “You stopped my blades, and you didn’t even move. How the hell did you do that?”

“Ya know,” Gojo smirked, “you’re pretty cute. If it wasn’t for the stubborn attitude or the attempted murder, I think I’d ask you out.”

You clenched your fists. He was so goddamn infuriating. And that smirk had pissed you off beyond belief.

“You’re really no fun. It’s such a waste when a hot person has no personality.” he sighed dramatically.

“Who the hell do you think you are? Talking to me like that?”

“I just told you, didn’t I? I’m Satoru Gojo.”

“You’re such a bastard-”

“You’re pretty hot when you’re angry, too. Has anyone ever told you that before?” He walked up to you. By now, he was close enough for you to start backing away.

Trying to put some distance between you and your target was a fruitless task. Based on the smirk his face held, he was well aware of the tree behind you before your back hit it.

“Damn it,” you thought.

His boots shuffling through the fallen leaves was a sound you became all too aware of, and with every single step, he came closer and closer until he was only a handful of inches away from you.

You could smell him. He held a faint scent of sandalwood. The whiff of it made you shift your feet.

Suddenly, he removed his hands from his pockets, tucking his thumb underneath his blindfold. He raised it, revealing his striking blue eyes. Revealing his entire face.

Being honest was another personal rule of yours. The truth was the only way to live. Not only as a way to communicate with others, but as a way to behave towards yourself.

Be true to who you are…how you feel…

And, if you tried to tell yourself that you weren’t attracted to the perfectly crafted face in front of you, you would have been a horrific liar.

He might not have been a god in your eyes, but it was obvious that the real gods took their time with him. The drastic difference between his pale skin and vibrant eyes was like admiring both the moon and the sun. Everything from his nose to the shape of his lips were perfect, and you couldn’t help the way your eyes darted across his face, taking in the beautiful features belonging to the tall, blessed man. He stared at you intensely.

You shifted your feet again.

“Like what you see?” He said lowly.

You wanted to nod, but you couldn’t. You still had a job to do, and his attractiveness changed absolutely nothing about it.

Luckily, Gojo was admiring your beauty as well. You were truly the literal definition of a Perfect Stranger. He didn’t even know your name, but he knew that he wanted to kiss those pouty lips of yours, or have your pretty eyes stare into his forever and ever.

He was distracted.

You used the given opportunity to pour your cursed energy into some spare hand blades. You tried to circle them around Gojo, targeting the back of the distracted man.

And truth be told, he was a little surprised when your blades fell once again, knocked down by the invisible force around him, but not as surprised as you were when your second murder attempt had failed.

“Damn it!” You snapped.

Even though you had blown your opportunity, even when he was well aware of your actions now, you tried once again. This time, however, Gojo didn’t even give you a proper chance to pour your cursed energy into your blades, as when you started to reach for them, he suddenly wrapped his hand around your neck, holding you against the tree.

He leaned in, that stupid smirk of his reappearing. His soft lips tickled the shell of your ear. The grip of his large hand around your neck only tightened.

“Come on now,” he whispered, his breath warming the side of your face as he spoke. “Is that all you got?”

When he released you, his calloused fingertips no longer pressed into the skin of your throat, you erupted into a fit of coughs.

And those hands. The damned hands that dared to choke you offered a reminder in the form of a gentle squeeze that he could have clenched harder. He could have tried to make his fingertips and thumb touch, watch you desperately claw at his arm until his pale skin was covered in fresh scratches and nail scrapes.

He could have watched you take your final breath, stare into your eyes and witness the light leave them, an unwavering hand still clamped around your drying throat as if to choke out any remains of your soul left behind.

But he didn’t.

He could have—and, perhaps, any ordinary person in the midst of becoming the next big contributor to the ever-growing statistics of murdered Jujutsu Sorcerers would have—but he didn’t.

“I could’ve killed you, ya know.”

And there it was. The irritating truth. The fact that he didn’t.

The amusing smirk that rested upon his face was a cruel reminder that all of this was indeed a game to him.

Even so, you had an irritating truth of your own. One that was nagging at you, existing as the sole reason why you couldn’t look Gojo in the eyes. It was purely the fact that your panties were soaked; your cunt wet from the way he grabbed you. The way he whispered in your ear. The way he choked you.

“I can’t-” you coughed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Look at me,” Gojo said softly.

You hesitated, but any fight left within you instantly vanished when he held you against that tree. Even so, the last string of dignity you held onto was your ability to keep your gaze towards the ground. However, when Gojo’s large hand cupped your chin, raising your head until you were staring right into his eyes, dignity became a foreign concept.

He was silent for a moment as he held your face. His thumb gently graced your cheek.

“Had no idea that you’d get so turned on by me choking you,” he said.

Your eyes widened. A string of protests started to fall from your lips, but suddenly, Gojo smashed his soft ones against yours.

A surprised gasp escaped you as your breath fluttered away, and he used that opportunity to deepen the kiss. Moving his hand away from your chin, he gripped the back of your neck, holding your head still as his tongue briefly touched yours. When you jumped, he smiled into the kiss.

He was quick to give your tongue a swirl with his own. Your mouth tasted fucking delicious to him, and he couldn’t help but moan down your throat. It was a slow, yet deep kiss, which was something you had never experienced before, and found yourself instantly craving when he pulled away all too soon.

He kept his buttery lips hovered over yours as he spoke. “Deny it all you want, but I could see the lust in your eyes.”

The last word had barely been spoken before he reconnected your lips. He was hungry for you like a starved man.

After his wet tongue explored your mouth, he pulled away only to latch his lips onto your neck. He bit, licked, and sucked at the skin, focusing on any spot that elicited a sweet moan from you.

You didn’t want to give that cocky asshole the satisfaction of knowing that he could make you moan like this, but you couldn’t help it. He found the sweet spot right below your jaw, and sucked at it until the skin was sore and tender.

—

It was only a matter of time before you were naked, pinned to the hard ground with nothing but your clothes as some sort of cushion.

Gojo, however, was still fully clothed. He pinned both of your wrists down above your head with only one of his hands, and with the other, he cupped your tit, swirling his wet tongue around your nipple.

“Hmm,” he moaned, sucking on your hard nub.

The sounds of your moans were like music flowing to a formerly deaf man’s ears. He fucking loved it. They were sweet and soft, a sharp contrast to your harsh demeanor. As he latched his mouth onto your other tit, his clothed dick hardened in his pants. He started to grind himself in between your legs, right against your wet, exposed cunt. His hard cock repeatedly pressed against your clit, and the sweet pleasure made you gasp.

“Gojo,” you whined. “I h-hate you.”

“Really?” He smirked down at you, increasing the speed of his grinding. “Still hate me, huh, baby? Why?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Oh, I see. You were in a hurry to kill me, now you want me to hurry up and fuck you?” His grinding started to slow down. “I don’t know. I think I need some sort of apology.”

You were silent. You closed your eyes, not wanting to let the bastard win.

The warmth from Gojo’s body on top of yours vanished quickly, and instead you felt a warm breath pat against your wet folds.

“Fine,” he smirked. “Have it your way.”

Suddenly, his fingers were pulling your pussy lips open. His skillful tongue started to lick at your clit as he moaned. Instantly, you started squirming.

“Oh my god,” you groaned.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on the little button, letting the sweet taste of you flood his senses. Two of his long fingers started to work their way inside of you. He curled them just right.

“You taste so good,” he mumbled against your clit. “So tight, too. Can’t believe this pussy is all mine right now.”

“Gojo,” you whined, thrashing around. Bolts of pure pleasure shot through your body whenever his tongue rapidly swiped over your clit, and his fingers would touch that sweet spot inside of your pussy. A wave of heat washed over you. Your legs started to tremble.

You were about to cum, and suddenly, Gojo pulled away.

Although snatching his mouth away from your delicious pussy was the last thing he wanted, he just couldn’t let you have it that easily. Not when you had so much to apologize for.

You couldn’t help but whimper at the sudden coldness that washed over you instead of a sweet orgasm.

“You’re such an asshole,” you said breathlessly.

Gojo laughed darkly. He pulled down his pants, releasing his thick cock.

“Sorry, but you’re not cumming. Not until you apologize. It’s really not that hard,” he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, and pressed his lips against your ear as he whispered. “I just had to stop eating your pussy thanks to you. I missed out on you cumming in my mouth because you still wanna act like a brat. Apologize.”

“Fuck you,” you mumbled.

With that, Gojo thrusted into your cunt. He shoved himself in harshly, working his thick cock in until your pussy could adjust to his size.

“So tight…so tight for me,” he moaned. “No one’s ever used you like this before?”

Gojo pinned your wrists down once again, giving your mouth another quick swirl of his tongue as he did so, moaning at the taste of you and the feeling of your perfect cunt.

The rise and fall of his hips were sinful. He fucked you at a harsh, steady rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin blending in with the rustling wind.

You were filled with shame. You had brought Gojo to these woods to kill him, and instead, he was fucking you like an animal. And you were moaning like a slut.

“You’re so angry. Why?” Gojo whispered into your ear, his thrusts never slowing. “Did you just need a good fucking, baby? Is that it? Just needed someone to fuck you hard?”

“Please, Gojo,” you mumbled. “Please…”

Sweat was pooling across your forehead. His cock filled you up in ways you didn’t even think were possible, and with every thrust, you were becoming undone. He fucked away every thought, and every desire for anything that wasn’t his cock.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, followed by a groan of his own. “Just need someone to make you cum. Isn’t that right?”

“Please…” you said pathetically. “Please make me cum. I’m sorry…so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He released your wrists, gripping your hips.

“For trying to kill you. I-I’m so sorry, I can’t…Please let me cum, Gojo.” You babbled on and on.

“Such a good girl. Now was that so hard?” He smirked.

As his fingers pressed into your hips, he held you down, drilling his cock in and out of you. He didn’t bother holding back his own moans. He tossed his head back.

“Oh, fuck.” He moaned deliciously. “Take that dick and cum, baby. Cum on my cock. Cum on my fucking cock right now.”

And with that, and a few more thrusts, your juices squirted along his length. Your orgasm triggered his own. A wave of pleasure flooded him, his throbbing cock filled your insides with loads of his pearly cum. Your cunt felt amazing, squeezing him and milking him until his body was numb, arms trembling as broken moans escaped him. He truthfully never wanted to stop cumming, and his dick twitched and throbbed inside of you as it begged for more.

Even as he kissed you again, your tongues flicking against each other as you both moaned, he continued to cum into your pussy.

It took a minute for you both to catch your breaths. When he climbed off of you, you reached for your clothes. However, his hand grabbed yours, stopping your movements.

“Sorry, but we’re not done.” He stood up. Suddenly, his hand gripped the back of your head.

“I know you apologized, but I never said that I forgive you, baby.” As he gave his cock a few strokes, he lined his tip up with your awaiting mouth. “Suck my dick. When I cum, swallow it. Then, maybe, I’ll forgive you for trying to kill me. Alright?”

You nodded.

He shoved himself inside of your warm mouth, tossing his head back with a grunt. As he started to buck his hips, repeatedly moaning, “that’s it. Just like that, baby,” as he fucked your throat, you couldn’t help but rethink your old rules.

Holding your head still as he shot his load down your throat, keeping his cock in your mouth until you swallowed it all, you figured that, perhaps, you only needed to live by one rule.

Never try to kill Satoru Gojo.

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

♡ 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠, & 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭!

♡ “𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢” 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @imlevis // 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 & 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 @danowh0re // 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞!

suguru wasn't sure why he even attended, maybe he felt obligated to since most of these parties were held by his best friend. satoru had always been much more popular than suguru, which he truly never minded. suguru preferred having a small but close group of friends. it was less of an emotional commitment than being friends with everyone he locked eyes with. he saved most of his social energy for these parties, which gojo held frequently, even if he spent the majority of the time leaning up against the kitchen counter people watching, he ended up exhausted afterwards. he wasn't shy or anything, he could easily go and mingle with the people here, make some new friends or at least have an interesting conversation or two. it wasn't for lack of social skills that he chose to keep to himself. he just genuinely preferred it this way.

it had felt like a couple hours that suguru hadn't spoken when he saw you push your way into the kitchen. he watched you fill a red solo cup with whatever spiked drink sat on a bowl in the middle of the kitchen table, and chug it in one gulp before filling it a few more times. your body looked tense, and you seemed angry, or at least upset by something. suguru pushed himself away from the counter and made his way over to you. "what's up with you ?" his words made you jump, and nearly spill your drink down the front of you.

"fuck, suguru. i didn't know you were here" you answered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

"yeah, satoru asked me to come. would've felt bad if i didn't" he shrugged, "but what's the matter with you, you seem upset about something"

you took to busing yourself with filling and drinking another cup before answering him. "nothing, really. just my boyfriend is an asshole"

suguru could tell it wasn't the whole story, he knew satoru could be a massive jerk, but the way your throat was tense and your eyes were red gave the impression that whatever he did was more than just his usual asshole antics. "what'd he do this time ?"

you bit the inside of your lip, before setting your cup down. "you know,," your bottom lip shook, "i knew that satoru could be a jerk sometimes, and he's really annoying too, but i didn't think-" your words were cut off by a sob that finally managed to escape, despite your best efforts to hold it in. "i didn't think he'd cheat on me !"

"oh,," suguru held his arms out to you, wrapping them around you when you walked into his chest. "shit, i'm so sorry"

"i was ready to go home, and i wanted to let him know that i was gonna walk myself back" you hiccupped, crying into his shirt "but i couldn't find him, and he wasn't answering his phone, so i looked around, and i found him in his room, and he was.. he was !" another sob broke out of your throat, and suguru wrapped his arms tighter around you.

"shh, shh. it's okay" he whispered, rubbing his hand up and down your back "it's okay" he hated this, he hated seeing you so upset all because of a guy. he regretted at times ever introducing you and satoru. he loved seeing you happy with him, but that wasn't enough to make up for how horrible he felt when he saw you like this.

this definitely wasn't the first time satoru had made you cry like this.

"hey, look. i haven't had much to drink" he gestured to the glass bottle in his hands, that had only a drink or two missing from it. "let me drive you home, okay ? you shouldn't be walking home like this, and i don't want you catching a ride with someone who's drunk"

you sniffled, nodding as you pulled away from him to wipe your nose and eyes with your sleeve. "y-yeah. that sounds good. can we please leave now ?" you asked

suguru nodded, patting his pockets to check for his keys which were still in his front pocket with his phone. "yeah, we can leave right now. let's head out" suguru put his hand on your back, guiding you through the crowds until you made it out the front door. there were people in the yard, but not nearly as many as there were packed inside. "i'm parked on the corner, do you still live on the same street ?" you nodded "perfect, you okay to buckle yourself ?" suguru asked, opening the passenger side door.

you nodded again, climbing into the seat, and pulling the buckle across your lap as suguru closed the door behind you, and got himself settled behind the wheel. suguru put the keys in the ignition, turning the car's engine on before pulling his own seat belt across him. he pulled a box of cigarettes from his middle console, "you mind if i smoke in the car ?" he asked, pulling one from the box with his teeth.

you looked at him for a second, before you slowly shook your head. "i think i'll throw up if i smell it"

suguru nodded, putting the cigarette and dropping the box back in the console. "no problem, let's get you home" suguru pulled away from the curb, and it wasn't too long into the drive that your phone started ringing. you pulled it from your pocket, and nearly whimpered when you saw the screen. suguru glanced over to try and peek at your screen himself "is it satoru ?"

"yeah. should i answer ?" you asked, looking towards him like he held all the answers in the universe

suguru shrugged "if you want to" you looked back at your screen, before sliding the icon over to answer the call. not even a second later, satoru's voice came through.

"(y/n) ! what the fuck !? shoko just told me that you left with suguru ! the hell, if you wanted to leave i would've walked you back" he yelled, clearly unaware of what you caught him doing.

"satoru, why the hell would i want you to walk me home after what you did ?!" the alcohol in your system, and the pure audacity of the man on the phone, made your anger increase tenfold.

"what do you mean, after what i did ?" satoru asked, "just tell suguru to turn the car around and come back so i can walk you home"

"satoru, i saw what you were doing with that girl in your room"

there was a long pause from satoru, "look, that wasn't what it looked like ! we weren't doing anything,"

"she was completely naked on top of you !" you yelled into the phone.

"yeah, but i still had my pants on. just come back so that we can talk, okay ? we can work this out, just calm down"

"don't tell me to calm down !! i don't want to talk ! the fact that you don't even think that you did anything wrong, just proves that you have no respect for me anymore. we're done !! never talk to me again !" you screamed, before hanging up the call. your hands were shaking as you tossed your phone onto your lap.

suguru reached over and put his hand on your leg, squeezing your thigh gently. he knew that maybe the gesture was a little too intimate for the situation, but it was all he could do to provide comfort while he was driving. "you okay ?" he asked

you nodded, eyes staring ahead. you almost couldn't believe that you had just broken up with your long time boyfriend. it was a long time coming, you could tell, but you never expected it to actually happen. you never expected to be the one ending things. your leaned your head up against the window, pressing your hot skin against the cold glass did something to calm you down, "hey suguru, i'm really sorry we haven't talked as much lately" you began

"don't even worry about it" suguru said, he didn't want you to make yourself feel worse than you already felt. but if he was going to be completely honest, it did hurt that the two of you didn't talk like you did before. you were his friend long before either of you even knew satoru, and he wished he got to have what satoru had the past few years. he would have taken better care of his chance with you, would've been better about it. but he'd never admit that. not in a million years.

"but i am worried about it, we've known each other our whole lives, and i feel like once i started dating satoru i just.. i don't want to say i didn't have time for you but,, i'm just really sorry"

suguru squeezed your thigh again. "it's okay. i'm not mad at you, okay ? i swear, i get it. shit happens sometimes" you turned over to look at suguru smiling softly. "we're turning onto your street, do you want me to walk you in ?"

you nodded, "if you don't mind it. that would be great"

"i can do that" suguru pulled into your driveway, cutting the engine before getting out and walking around to open your door. he reached over and unbuckled your seat belt, helping you out of the car and to your front door.

"there's a key under the mat, could you grab it ?" you asked, suguru nodded and grabbed the little key from under the welcome mat and unlocked the front door. he kept your body upright as you walked up the stairs to your bedroom. suguru walked you to your bed, helping you collapse onto the mattress as gracefully as he could.

he pulled your blanket over you, making sure it was comfortably wrapped around you. he went to stand up getting ready to leave, when you grabbed him by his arm, pulling him down to kiss him. his eyes went wide when your mouth hit his, and it took a second before him to push away. "(y/n) ! what was that ?!" he asked. he wasn't against kissing you, and he didn't not like it. he was just surprised.

"i wanted to kiss you. can't i kiss you, suguru ?"

"(y/n), you're drunk. just get some sleep, and call me in the morning when you're feeling better" he tried to get up again, looking everywhere around your room except for at you.

"i'm not that drunk. i'm sober enough to know that i wanna kiss you" you said, gripping his arm tighter.

"what about satoru ?"

"what about him ? he clearly doesn't care about my feelings, why should i care about his ? don't you wanna kiss me ?"

suguru finally looked at you, staring at you for a few moments before leaning into you again. he felt wrong, but god he's wanted this so bad for so long, he didn't care anymore. he didn't care about anyone, or anything else anymore.

he didn't care if this was morally wrong, he didn't care if he was betraying satoru. all he cared about in this moment was you, the way your lips felt against his, your soft skin, the sweet taste of your mouth. he lost every last bit of his rationality when your hands went to his neck, your fingers tangled in his hair with a little tug. moaning into each other's mouths, suguru felt like you sucked all the air from his lungs when you pulled away, pointing to your bedside table. "condoms in the drawer" you whispered, before pulling him back to your lips.

suguru reached over, digging through your drawer until he felt the familiar feeling of the packaging. he felt dirty when he pulled his hard cock from his pants rolling the latex over it, knowing that they were probably in the drawer in the first place for you and satoru to use. by the time he got it fitting comfortably and turned back to you, all those thoughts had left him for good. you had pulled down the little skirt you wore to the party, along with your underwear down to your knees, spreading your legs for suguru to get the perfect view of your pussy, so pretty and already wet and ready for him.

he lined himself up with your entrance, looking to you for the go ahead. you gave him a nod, wrapping your arms around his neck again. you hissed once suguru had pushed himself all the way in. he was bigger than satoru, by a lot in both length and girth. "are you okay ?" suguru asked.

"fuck, yeah. yeah i'm fine" you breathed out, "you can keep going"

you didn't need to tell him twice, you barely had to tell him once, he was finally getting the chance to do everything he wanted to do for years now. well not everything, but it was a start.

suguru was gripping the pillow behind your head so hard his knuckles had drained of color, it was all he could do to keep himself grounded. the noises you were making, the pants and little moans of his name, the way you cunt was squeezing him and practically sucking him back in every time he moved back. it was enough to make a man lose his mind. "fuck, your pussy's so good baby girl" he groaned, "so pretty, so fucking perfect for me"

he came first, reaching to grip your hand as he pushed his hips as hard against yours as he could, filling the rubber around his cock with a load so heavy and warm you could feel it even though the protection. it didn't take you too long to follow, especially when suguru's hand moved downwards, using his long thin fingers to stimulate your clit. he could've cum again right then and there at the feeling of your cunt spasming around him as he rubbed your through the high. "that's it, good girl"

you stayed like that for a little bit, until you each caught your breath and gathered your thoughts. suguru kissed your forehead, before pulling out and pulling the soiled condom of his cock, tying off the end before tossing it in the garbage next to your desk and laying back in bed with you. he turned your body to face him, cupping your face with his hand while he looked at you. taking in every feature you had. "you did so good" he whispered, pressing your nose against his. "you were amazing"

you didn't get the chance to respond before your phone started ringing. suguru was the one who rolled over, grabbing it off your nightstand before handing it to you. it was satoru again, you slid the icon over to answer his call, and put it on speaker.

"(y/n), i'm on your front porch. the key is gone, come open the door"

the vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart, the screen lighting up each time and nearly blinding him from its place on the floor; propped against one of the legs of the violent table. his body is awkwardly contorted, head turned in its direction.

satoru lifts up his head to glance at it — squinting in pain as he tries to focus on the kanji. It darkens before he can see who woke him and he turns up his nose in annoyance when he notices the cracked upper corner of his very expensive cell phone. he runs the heel of his hand roughly against his eyes, wiping the crusted edges in an attempt to clear his blurry vision.

despite not being fully coherent, satoru can tell that he’s hungover. his memory is hazy at best but some of it comes back in short flashes; being at the bar with nanami, drunken coin fumbling to buy another round of shots, someone tossing him on his living room floor and ruining his favorite shirt.

his white leather ottoman is bowing in the middle, obviously broken. the minibar is ransacked and the floor is covered with remnants of the night before: empty beer cans, a plate of chicken bones, a cowboy hat, half-eaten skinless mangos, his favorite jacket, a plastic battle ax, etc.

snoring on the couch and wearing only jeans and one sock, the words MUNCH written in sharpie across his forehead, is geto suguru. a cat that satoru assumes is his now, struts across the top of the couch until it reaches a plastic cup blocking its path.

recognizing the obstruction, the feline slaps it off the side and the cup hits suguru in the face. hard. stale saké splashes all over him and he jerks awake before falling directly onto the pile of beer cans on the floor. the black sharpie starts to drip down his forehead in jagged lines that look almost like stitches.

“oh shit,” he groans, strands of black hair falling out of his top knot and into his eyes. “what the hell happened last night?”

satoru goes to shake his head, but the heaviness of it makes him nauseous. he glances over at his friend and then down at himself. “pajama party?” he lays in the same position he originally slept in and the same white button up he remembers wearing (albeit with a few buttons missing).

the two men groan in unison, satoru lifting himself up and using his now broken leather furniture for leverage. vertigo hits him hard and black dots are on the edge of his vision, but he’s able to stumble his way into his kitchen while keeping hold of the contents of his stomach. on his marble countertop are painkillers, candies that he’s sure are from his pantry, and a note. it reads: try not to black out again. you almost killed me for attempting to put you in bed.

satoru raises a brow, recognizing his friend’s font-like handwriting well. how sweet of nanami to look out for them in this way! he makes a mental note to tease him about it later.

satoru pops a candy in his mouth, the hard sugary treat clacking against his teeth. he scrolls down on a search engine for hangover remedies and just as he learns that sugar is apparently not what he should be having (oops?) a new notification appears, grouping with the three from earlier:

INU_NOT_YASHA liked your post.

the notification itself wouldn’t be so strange if it weren’t inumaki that liked his post. he rarely ever saw the underclassman on the app (and if he did it was watching slime making videos.) satoru can hear the rustling of beer cans as suguru must be removing himself from the floor now, too. another notification comes up and then another:

JLAWFAN39 liked your post

JLAWFAN39 commented on your post: woah gojo-senpai you’re way braver than me. why were your nipples out btw? ://

satoru raises an eyebrow. he hadn’t posted a shirtless picture in… like three days. (a new record) he goes to respond to the comment and defend his honor, but the next one makes him pause.

NANAMI.KENTOBOX commented on your post: he insisted that they needed to “air out.”

nanami often preached about how much he hated social media, how the instagram account he had was purely for convenience. what would have caused him to comment on one of satoru’s posts? he never had before.

satoru taps on the notification then, wanting to know what the fuss was all about, especially since he was the topic of conversation. what he finds makes him almost drop his phone in the sink.

for starters, he had posted six images at once (which did not fit the minimalist aesthetic he’d curated over the past two years.) one photo is of him, suguru, and nanami in the bar. the more stoic man is begrudgingly standing with his arms crossed. from there, each picture gets progressively more raunchy. until the very last one, a recorded video, starts to play.

it’s definitely him, pulling at his own button up in an attempt to flash the camera. nanami is heard sighing in the background and geto is making weird mouth sounds at what satoru assumes is the mystery cat. “could you at least give me a warning before you strip?” the blonde man chastises. satoru can hear the sound of him rummaging through his kitchen cabinets.

video satoru lets out a laugh, throwing himself back on the living room floor with the phone raised over him. there’s a thick thud where his head connects to the ground, one that makes both suguru and nanami wince. “ouch!” he whines, pouting at the camera and using his free hand to rub the sore spot on his head. his cheeks are red and his eyes are almost closed, obviously intoxicated.

“i’m soooo lonely, guys. who wants to come keep me company?” satoru instantly cringes at himself. this was definitely embarrassing (and explained the 200 followers he’d dropped in the span of only a few hours) but not enough for him to be concerned, right?

video satoru gets a faraway look in his eyes, the kind that says he’s about to either burst into song or is very deep in his feelings. “don’t any of you get jealous, okay? i’m just kidding! i wouldn't please you, anyway. i don’t have the experience.” satoru sees his past self start to tear up and suddenly, he remembers the feeling of laying on his expensive rug and feeling the cool air riddle his chest with goosebumps. he also remembers what he says next for all 4,000 3800 of his followers to see:

“being a virgin fucking blows.”

and there it is on the internet forever. his biggest secret. something that only one other person knew about until now,  broadcasted on his most used social media platform. shit. shit! 

suguru has managed to lift himself off the floor somehow, making his way over to the kitchen while holding the street cat in both hands. his sock is practically hanging off his foot now, the black ink on his forehead streaky as if someone ferociously tried wiping it off. “don’t look so distraught, satoru. just make another post saying you were drunk.”

satoru gives this some thought but one look at his dms and he knows he won’t be able to salvage this social nose dive. people were blowing him up asking if the post had any truth to it, if he needed a warm body to fill his bed at night. it was all too much, panic starting to set in.

noticing his friend’s genuine distress, suguru raises a brow. slowly, a smirk starts to appear on his face. “wait… is it actually tru-”

“of course not!” satoru interjects, shutting off his phone and flippantly waving a hand in his friend’s direction. he flinches at the volume. “i lost my virginity years ago, you know that. besides,” he grabs the street cat from suguru’s hands and lifts it so that their cheeks are pressed together. “who needs sex when you have this adorable little thing?” the adorable thing in question immediately tries to squirm out of his grasp.

the smirk doesn’t leave suguru’s face and in response he shrugs his shoulders. “alright then, who popped your cherry? you never told me that many details. is it someone we know?”

satoru feels his face redden. “uh, well-”

this is where things get complicated. if he made up a name then suguru would surely grill him on every detail of the encounter, finding holes in his lie. he had to think of someone and fast.

“well?” the dark-haired man presses, lips still curled in amusement.

in satoru’s defense, he was cornered! he couldn’t possibly tell him the truth now, could he? it is a split second decision (the only response he could conjure up) when satoru opens his mouth to say the first name that comes to mind. it is only by pure necessity and recency bias, that it is yours.

judging by the angle of the sunlight filtering in through your cheap blinds, soft yellow that just barely comes over the horizon, it was most definitely too early for you to be awake. you glance over at your alarm clock, the green letters showing that it was without a doubt, too damn early. whoever was pounding at your front door must have wanted a death sentence.

at first, you decide to let their knocking be until they give up, assuming no one was home. one quick glance at the opposite side of your dorm and you see that nobara is nowhere to be found – already up and at her morning class. unfortunately for you, this person was persistent and what was once a pounding of a fist turns into a song of some sort… as if they were entertaining themselves until you decided to stop ignoring them.

you consider your options – one of them being whether or not prison is as horrible as they say – and another debating the logistics of jumping out of a third story window and landing directly on concrete. you roll both options back and forth in your head like a mental tug of war – but right as you are about to decide – the knocking stops.

a sigh escapes you as you roll over onto your side, back facing the window behind you. your eyes close and you nuzzle deeper into the warmth that is your bed. before you can appreciate the sudden silence, the shrill jingle of your cell phone blares to life on your bedside table.

“are you-” you slam your hand down on the device and drag it by its tied charms to your side. you don’t look at the caller id before you swipe to answer and lift the screen to your ear. “fucking kidding me?!”

“i most certainly am not! good morning to you, too by the wa-”

you immediately hang up at the sound of his voice, letting your phone fall onto the ground. you were not letting that string bean ruin your slumber again. the last time you answered this early, he’d been drunk off his ass slurring about something you don’t even remember. not this time! you close your eyes again but the same agitating, grating voice comes out behind a muffled door. it calls out your name in a sing-songy tune, followed by knocks that hit the same melody. “open up,” he sings, “i know you’re in there~!”

you groan loudly into your pillow.

you’ve known gojo satoru long enough to deduce two things about him – he was definitely persistent, and annoyingly patient when he wanted to be. no amount of potential embarrassment could sway him. if you didn’t answer now, he’d knock until your neighbors called the police and you’d have to deal with their nagging for weeks; especially from the two sophomores in 1B, they fucking hated you.

you begrudgingly lift yourself up out of your warm bed and trudge to the door. as soon as you open it a flash of what can only be described as a tall shadow moves past your vision so quickly that you almost get whiplash. “thank god,” a voice you recognize chirps, “it took me forever to even get you to wake up.”

you shut your door and turn around to see none other than gojo satoru, your best friend, dressed in his campus hoodie. the same design of hoodie that you had slept in the night before. he’s as handsome as ever, stark white hair and bright blue eyes covered with thin shades. he smiles at you and you return a frown. it’s only then that you notice the plastic bag in his left hand and the familiar brown label on the bottle that pokes through.

“before you kick my ass, just hear me out. yeah?” he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and you try to not let your gaze linger on his forearms. “have a seat. i’m gonna set the table.”

satoru places the bag on the table in question (which is just a desk next to your bed) and grabs you by your shoulders to guide you to sit down in your chair. you comply, your half-asleep state focusing only on the sweet cheese danish he places in front of you along with your favorite bottled coffee drink. he pulls out his own goodies and you raise a brow at the very modest bottle of water.

you see, satoru had a vice. one you had known well after your many years of friendship. every morning, without fail – he’d drink the most sugar-induced, whipped cream, caramel drizzled frappuccino known to man. you’d always tease him and ask how satoru still had all of his teeth and he’d just lick the caramel that dripped on his fingertips and give you an annoyingly handsome smile. for him to drink anything without artificial sugar was concerning, to say the least. he sits on the opposite side of you on your bed and starts to tap his fingertips on the desk. he seemed almost…nervous? you open your coffee, the plastic top cracking under your hand.

“so,” you lift the bottle to your lips, “was starbucks closed or something–?”

“i want you to take my virginity.”

you choke on your coffee mid-sip, sputtering as you try to repress a coughing fit. it takes you a moment for you to catch your bearings, grabbing a packed napkin from the bag and pressing it against your now stained hoodie. “shit–! ‘toru, what?”

satoru lays down with his legs spread out in front of him and his elbows keeping him up; the sheets moving beneath him. you can tell by the gleam in his eyes that he’s dead serious. frighteningly so. “i want you to take my virginity! pop my cherry. steal my virtue–“

“stop!” you interrupt him, hand lifting up in front of you as the other places a now soiled napkin on the table. “please, don’t elaborate, satoru.” you press two fingers on the bridge of your nose and take a moment to collect yourself.

“what do you mean you want me to take your virginity?”

he rolls his eyes at this, sitting up so that one arm supports him. his hand reaches out to grab your discarded stack of napkins, playing with the ends of the paper. “you told me once that people should share their first time with someone they care about, that they trust.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i trust you more than anyone.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “there’s more to it than that, toru.” how could he be so calm about this? “you have to actually love the person to some degree–!”

“who says i don’t love you?”

that makes you pause, lifting your head to make eye contact with the man in front of you. he said it in a way that suggests that it was ridiculous for you to believe otherwise.

exasperated, you sigh through your nose. “satoru, you know what i mean. it’s a different kind of love. you need someone who wants to… i don’t know! build a life with you or something.”

he laughs at this. “right because when you lost your virginity to maki, it was because you were madly in love?”

“that’s not the point.” he raises a white eyebrow.

in a way he’s not entirely wrong, you and maki were dating at the time but you never saw a future with her. when you broke up it was amicable, two people realizing that they just weren’t all that compatible. still, your point stands. you didn’t regret the way you lost your virginity or who you’d lost it to but would the same be said for gojo? could your friendship survive that?

as if sensing that you were thinking entirely too much, a long pale finger flicks your forehead.

“ow!” you instinctively look over at the other side of the room — turning away once you remember that nobara is still out for the day. you can practically feel her eyes burning the side of your head because of the noise.

“pay attention! i’m practically giving you my body on a silver platter and you aren’t even giving me the time of day?” he suddenly hops (or more accurately steps with his long ass legs) to your side of the table and plants himself on nobara’s bed next to you, moving your feet to relax on his lap. “i’m not asking you to give me the most mind blowing experience of my life just… i want to get it over with.”

(somewhere, nobara feels a shiver run down her spine. a great disturbance only caused by gojo satoru.)

you give him the look he hates, the one that says he’s not getting what he wants. “what if this ruins our relationship? i-i have an idea! what if you ask suguru to take your virginity?”

if looks could kill you’d be six feet under. “and get throttled with his bare hands for even asking? besides he’s ugly,” his nose scrunches up in disgust, “you’re hot and like, soft. you exfoliate.”

“gojo satoru–“

“i also might have told him that you took it already.”

that makes you pause. of course he told the second most popular man on campus. “you did fucking what?”

“don’t worry about it! i doubt he believed me!” you give the same look from before. “okay, admittedly i could have framed this conversation better–“

“you think?”

“but… if i were to be with anyone, why wouldn’t it be you?”

you consider this for a moment, covering your face in your hands. maybe if things were simpler, if the two of you were just acquaintances, it would be easier to agree to. but how are you expected to sleep with someone who you’ve known since you were freshmen in high school? you’d helped his mom cook dinner, talked to his dad about the family business even when you had no interest. they were like a second family to you. 

you feel a hand grab your wrist and you look up to see the face of a man you know better than anyone, who you would hate to lose. “don’t look so freaked out! i’m not going to force you or anything so... just think about it?”

you sigh but nod your head, ignoring the pounding of your heart. “alright… yeah. i’ll think about it.” 

you did not think about it. in fact, you did everything in your power to not think about it. that meant burying yourself in your studies and avoiding gojo satoru at all costs, giving the excuse of being busy every time he tried to meet up.

by the time the two of you left your dorm that day, you’d not only found out why exactly he was in a rush to lose his v-card but that the school was now divided on the legitimacy of gojo’s virginity claims. especially since you were allegedly the one to have taken it. geto suguru made quick work of spreading that fact to anyone who would listen.

on one hand, you were happy that satoru had some of the heat off him but that meant that you were getting dms from people you’d never even spoken to before, asking for you to confirm it. eventually you just went private but that made the rumors spread even more. were you two together? friends with benefits? was it just a one night stand?

after a week of this – you started practically barricading yourself in your dorm room, avoiding not only gojo but anyone else that was trying to get the latest news on your relationship. of course, you could only keep this up for so long, message after message hitting your phone. once from itadori on how to use a rice cooker but mostly from satoru asking if he’d made you uncomfortable or crossed a line.

you would say no, that you just needed to focus on your classes, but he didn’t take that answer — posting sad bart simpson edits on his instagram story to further prove his point. you hated making him feel this way (even if he was being overly dramatic) but you weren’t someone that liked being in the spotlight. satoru had always been popular, adored. you tended to just fade into the background and you liked it that way.

when you try to lift your head, you realize that your face is pressed into the crook of your arm. there’s a blanket draped over you that you don’t recognize and it slips off your shoulders when you start to move from your uncomfortable position at your desk. the blinds of your dorm are open wide enough for pale blue light to peer through them and it blinds you momentarily as your vision clears. the light reflects off of something black and metallic on your right hand, pen stains from last night. gross.

you groan and place your face back into the cocoon your arms have created. you have a class fairly early today but by the color of the sky through your window, that time hasn't come yet. maybe you could get just a few more hours in…

“rise and grind, sleepyhead!" your roommate says way too loudly for the early morning. normally you had no issue getting up, but the cram session from the night before presents itself with the pounding headache you have and the taste of a fruity energy drink on your tongue.

“nobara… as much as i appreciate the positivity,” your words are muffled in your arm, “i’m not exactly in the mood for it today.” you let out a sigh, feeling unreasonably hot all of a sudden. “this week–“

“i know exactly what happened this week. i think the entire campus knows at this point! i mean, jesus, all you've done is sleep.” you and nobara weren’t friends exactly, a frenemies type of relationship if you will, but you could see the obvious concern on her normally stern features, brows furrowed and lips pouty.

she was attractive in an… aggressive way. a cute bobbed haircut and a bright, full laugh so contagious you couldn’t help but smile when you heard it. she was the type of girl to have both men and women alike on their knees. 

when you first met nobara she was too focused on flirting with a classmate of yours, and not focused on where she was going. to make a long story short, you both got into an intense screaming match. all of this in the middle of the courtyard, while standing over the box of personal items that you had been carrying to your dorm. it didn’t exactly make things easier for the two of you when you found out that you would spend the entire semester together. satoru had to practically hold you both back so you wouldn’t start throwing blows. she saw you as a clumsy, irritable nuisance and you saw her as an annoying flirt with too much time on her hands.

somehow over the course of time you two had come to a mutual level of understanding and the hostility slowly dissipated from your living space. now, months later, she was one of the few people on campus that you felt comfortable venting to.

you stretch your arms over your head, ignoring the way her eyes peered down at you in what you perceived as pity. “yeah well the entire campus doesn’t know the whole story, do they?” you say with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

she grins. “no, i suppose they don’t.” nobara pulls over her own desk chair as you spin yours around to face her. you tuck your knees up to your chest and she gets comfortable across from you. “tell me everything.”

you proceed to explain the events of the week in vivid detail, making sure to emphasize how mortifying it all truly was. she wasn’t there, so you had to paint a vivid picture. the determined look he had given you, the early morning bed hair he still had. nobara’s nose curls at the sound of satoru’s name and she almost has a heart attack when she realizes he sat on her bed. when you explain exactly what satoru had asked from you, she crosses her arms against her chest and her lips curl up on one side. your voice is soft and your cheeks feel warm. even if your face were stoic as ever right now, your anxious hands were a dead give away to how flustered you were.

“he wants you to take his virginity.” this is a statement, not a question. you nod. “and not only did he lie and tell geto that you already had” you nod again, slower this time. “but you’re considering actually taking up the offer.”

“well – yeah. pretty much.”

nobara shrugs. “honestly, i didn’t think you had it in you but a dirty mind can come from even the most innocent–“

“who says i’m actually going to sleep with him?” you interrupt.

she raises a brow. “you’re not?”

“no! i-i don’t know! maybe?”

nobara’s signature smirk is back and she’s leaning in closer to you, knees knocking against the edge of your chair. “are you positive?” your friend reaches behind you and grabs one of the sticky notes off your desk. in barely legible writing it reads your first name and then the last, replaced with gojo instead of your own. shit.

it was a joke the two of you made after a long night of studying. nobara had made a comment about how you had a crush on your longtime friend and you didn’t exactly deny it. “gojo isn’t that bad of a family name. if gojo ever gives you the opportunity, fuck him. hell, you can even marry him if you’re feeling bold! do that thing that americans do where you take his last name.”

you had laughed it off, even though at the time you had been completely committed to maki. it was supposed to be a joke, a little thing between the two of you. now, many months later, it’s obvious you weren’t the only one who remembered that conversation.

“i knew you had some type of feelings for him!” she whisper-yells, “is that why you’re so scared to go through with it?”

you can’t help the way your lips twitch downwards, breaking your stoic appearance. nobara knew you better than you thought. it was equally flattering and annoying. “fine,” you huff, “you got me. is this the part where you tell me that i’m gonna get my heart broken? that i should have told him how i felt months ago?”

nobara shakes her head. “obviously not. this is the part where i say that as your friend, i want what’s best for you.” she leans in impossibly close now, her hands resting against the arms of your chair. you stare into her eyes and the glossy brown color stares right back at you.

“maybe the only way you’ll get over this little crush is by testing out the merchandise or maybe he just feels the same way!” she pauses and you see her dark eyes narrow with mischief. “besides, you’re practically attached at the hip anyway. he’s come to check on you ten times in the last four days.”

you think of the days this week that you’ve hidden behind the door as nobara rattled off an excuse for you, saying that you’d gone to the library or to visit a professor. the times you’d seen him in a hall and took a detour around campus just to avoid awkward conversation. if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t being entirely fair to him.

“yeah, yeah i get it. i’ll talk to him.” you lift your hands in defeat, ignoring the way she practically shakes from excitement.

“thank god! do me a favor ‘n fuck him dumb so that he forgets how to speak, yeah?”

you only shove her away, her laugh filling the room as you turn around to grab your cell phone from your night stand. you turn it on and see a slew of messages:

[12:00 am] toru: u know things are bad when im up this late

[12:30 am] toru: i know ur awake :((

[12:57 am] toru: or maybe you arent? ur dorm light was on earlier

[1:25 am] toru: that sounds so creepy i was just walking by :((( 🙏🏻!!

[1:30 am] toru: i miss you

you let out a chuckle but it comes out more sad than you mean for it to. you missed your friend just as much as he seems to have missed you.

[7:45 am] you: meet me at our place after class?

you don’t expect a response to come so quickly, the vibration going off before you can even fully place your phone back on the table.

[7:46 am] toru: i’ll be there.

the sharp crunch of torn flesh clear in your ears, the salty juices coating your lips and tingling from spicy red pepper flakes. your plate of chicken is practically empty and you sigh in content as you place down your final bone and wipe your mouth. satoru is sat beside you and for the first time since this whole fiasco you actually see a hint of a smile on his face, watching you enjoy your meal with his own plate nearly empty.

you’re currently sat next to each other in the busy restaurant. everyone who had gotten off of school or work stopped by on their commute home and now it’s so packed that the two of you have no choice but to share a small booth area in the corner. to anyone looking on, you seemed like a normal couple sharing a meal after a long day. it was nice, comforting even, to imagine.

you’re staring down at your plate still, contemplating whether or not you want to order another round. your fingers tap on the table, the surface dented slightly from drunken toasts and sticky with cheap cleaning solution.

you feel a wave of air in front of your face and satoru is looking at you with the same sly grin. he looks so natural like this, warmth radiating from the hand he raised in front of you to get your attention.

“are you sure you don’t want to eat the bones, too? maybe suck on the marrow?”

you take a sip of your drink and roll your eyes at him. “laugh all you want but i’m trying to compensate for a week of surviving off of granola bars and gatorade.”

at the sound of your eating habits, he frowns and you wonder if making that comment was a mistake.

“and why would you do that?”

you shrug a little and play with the bracelet on your wrist, one he gave you only a few birthdays ago. “i wasn’t exactly worried about my eating habits. this semester has been draining me so i’ve been preoccupied and everyone is up my ass about you, if you’ve forgotten.”

“oh, i haven’t forgotten. i guess i just… started drowing it out? maybe we should just try not to care what other people think about our relationship. it’s just college – none of this will even matter in a few years!”

you raise a brow at him.

“that’s rich coming from you,” you say, leaning in closer to the man next to you, “all you’ve cared about for the past few years is how everyone else perceives you! who cares if you’re a virgin? are you supposed to be some type of playboy because you’re pretty?”

he smiles at you and you immediately regret your choice of words. “you think i’m pretty?”

“objectively,“ you interject, “you are objectively pretty.”

“but i’m still pretty–“

“can you be serious for once in your life?”

“not a chance!”

you lean back so that your head is against the booth. “you’re stalling.”

“and you’re letting me.”

you close your eyes (hoping that if you couldn’t see him he’d just disappear) and get even more comfortable in the booth. you two were fairly far away from the rest of the afternoon crowd, the sound of moving plates and chatter filling your mind. you feel at peace sitting in the muffled silence, even though you know that satoru is watching you expectantly. you set up the meeting after all and he’d already said his piece.

you open your eyes and look into satoru’s very blue ones. they’re mesmerizing, a bit frightening if you didn’t know the person behind them.

“so…why’d you ask me? to… take it, i mean. was i just the easiest option?”

for the first time in the years you have known satoru, he looks genuinely taken aback. maybe because you sprung this all on him suddenly. your mood had been a little sour ever since you guys originally met up so this should have been expected.

he opens his mouth to speak but closes it again and you see his internal battle right in front of your eyes.  “you aren’t the easiest option at all.” he murmurs, voice so low you almost missed it.

“what?”

“i didn’t ask you to fuck me because i thought you were easy. i guess i just wanted you.” you can practically see his jaw struggle to move, as if getting the words out were painful. for a man that was usually so confident to feel any type of timidity…

now it’s your turn to be confused. “satoru, what the hell are you talking about?“

“just please, listen. can you do that for me?”

you nod, trying your best to follow directions and let him speak.

with a deep sigh, satoru looks more tired than he did earlier. you miss that warmth already. “i’m not exactly the best when it comes to not fucking up my relationships with people,” he thinks this part over a bit more, “hell if i know what a real relationship is even supposed to be like. what i do know is that it isn’t whatever i’d find with someone else so… i wanted to try it with you. maybe i saw this as an opportunity to eventually get there? i promise i never meant for any of this to happen, but i panicked. then you started avoiding me and i felt awful. i thought that i ruined everything.”

out of all the things he could have said, you weren’t prepared for this.

“i guess i never expected you to not be around. we’re almost always together! and yes, i was being childish and maybe even a little selfish but… i really didn’t mean to hurt you. you have to know that.” he pouts a little as he says this and you try to ignore how soft his lips look.

“are you mad at me?” you ask.

his expression turns sour, eyes dramatically wide. “no! i’m mad at myself. i shouldn’t have put you in this situation. it’s not your responsibility to make me feel better about something i caused. that would be gaslighting… is that the word for it?”

you stifle a laugh but nod. “yeah, that’s the word, toru.”

“look,” he starts, “i’m tired of pretending we’re strangers and walking around campus like a lost puppy. think of this as a sorry and a thank you for dealing with all my bullshit for the past few years.”

you know he’s serious. can see it in the way he looks at you and the way his eyes shimmer with a certain fire. you’re so used to seeing satoru as this goofy man who you managed to tolerate for the sake of your friendship. someone that you occasionally thought of on nights when you were particularly lonely. now all you see is just how appealing he looks with his pouty pink lips and pretty hair tickling his forehead. you wanted to run your hands through it and—

“—pull my head out of my ass or he would.”

you blink. “what?”

“you are really distracted today. when i talked to nanami about everything he said i had to pull my head out of my ass or he would.”

this was not the time for you to be drooling over him, not with so many people around.

satoru places a hand on the bare skin of your arm, squeezing the flesh gently before rubbing his thumb over it in small circles. “anyway, i know that it’s a lot to process at once but i’m really just offering here. do you… want to try being with me?”

you stare at him for a while but realize the heat of his hand is distracting you. your own hand reaches up to move his off of your arm, but he catches it and places it against his cheek firmly. satoru leans into your touch and hesitantly turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand. he doesn’t miss the way your pulse quickens when he starts to kiss down your wrist.

“you make a good offer, but i think there’s something i want to add.” you lean in to him to feel his warmth again, so close now that your lips graze his other cheek. you hear his breath quicken but he recovers with a small laugh.

“really now?” you can hear the smile in his voice, softer now.

you hum in response, your hand drifting down from his cheek to his chin, shifting a blue gaze to yours. “do you wanna get out of here, toru?”

and it's here in this tiny booth, fingertips pressed against his smooth skin, that you decide to take the leap.

because if gojo satoru wanted his first time to be special — to be with you of all people — then fuck, it was going to be.

satoru is panicking. you can see it in the way that he fidgets with the contents of the bag, reading the labels carefully to make sure he grabbed the right items. you’re sat on his bed, criss-crossed in front of him and everything he’d dumped on the duvet. condoms, lube, water bottles, a bag of candy. everything you’d need for what was to happen next. 

he’d already spent fifteen minutes on the phone with you at the store asking what kind of condoms you preferred and if a certain lube was better than the other. the attentive, albeit sometimes annoying personality you’d become accustomed to.

you try to ignore the tremble in his hand and the hard swallow he does before he speaks. “so, uhm. i didn’t get water based like you said but i have it in my bathroom if you change your mind.”

you smile at him. “toru, this is fine. perfect actually.”

“are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you–“

“you won’t. i’m not the virgin here, you are.”

“still–“

“satoru.” you places your hands on his, rubbing soothing circles on his skin. “please, i need you to relax. i’ll tell you if something feels wrong, don’t stress yourself out.”

he nods before letting out a small laugh at himself. “i don’t know why i’m so nervous.”

you place the items back in the bag, leaving the condoms and lube on the bedside table. “let’s try and loosen you up then, yeah?”

you tug on his hand so that he moves forward. satoru follows you as you guide him to rest against the headboard and you sit patiently between his thighs. “okay, so we should express some boundaries before we start, yeah?”

satoru nods and tilts his head a little to the side, you can’t help but be reminded of the cat you just met that’s currently resting in the living room. apparently, he named her candy bag. he has no idea where she came from.

“first, i want you to know that we can stop whenever you want–“

“trust me i’m not–“ he interjects.

“if you do, though. we’ll use the stoplight system. red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for keep going. understood?”

gojo nods, not realizing that he’s gripping the sheets with his hands. “yeah, i got it. could you... not call me like daddy or anything like that? at least not yet. i’d like it more if you called me nice things or my name.”

“bold of you to assume it’ll be that good.”

“i’m aiming to please.”

“i’m sure you are. but, nice things?” you tease with a small smirk, “like what?”

he shifts under you and you see a rising blush against his cheeks. “you know, like baby or that name you call me– ‘toru. something like that.”

you nod. “alright, i can do that. for me uh, don’t push my head down at any point, okay? it sort of freaks me out.”

he gives you a shocked look and you realize that the implication of what you said just hit him. “what?” you awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, “i’m going to at least try to make you feel good.”

satoru smiles at you and his grip on the sheets loosens. “i’m not complaining, just surprised. i guess.”

you roll your eyes. “just lean back, idiot.”

knowing that the conversation has come to an end, you move to straddle satoru’s hips. there’s a warmth where he automatically rests his hands on you, fitting against your hips perfectly. “that feels nice,” you praise. he fails to hide the way he preens underneath you. you make note of it for later.

you lean in close, your breaths mingling and chests almost touching. satoru lets out a shaky breath and you gently cup his cheeks. “can i kiss you, toru?” he gives you the smallest of smiles but nods, still a little tense.

first you press a kiss to his cheek and then to the corner of his mouth. “relax, sweetheart… touch me.” and he does, his hands gently trailing up your spine and down to the dip of your back. you kiss him then, soft pecks that soon turn deeper as you lips mold together.

he’s a good kisser, almost too good with the way you forget what you’re doing. his tongue is hot and experienced, curling against your own. his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth with a groan. without even realizing it, you’ve started to move against his slowly growing bulge, gasping as you feel a familiar throbbing, aching arousal between your thighs.

satoru moves his hands lower to cup your ass, hovering before he gets to the swell of it. “go ahead,” you say, “i want you to touch me.”

with a firm squeeze of his hands, satoru presses you closer and grinds your front against his own. it’s in this moment that you hear him moan for the first time. it’s a low and breathy sound but now you want to pull every noise from him. you want to hear the deep ones from his chest that you would fantasize about on nights when you were alone – fucking yourself on the silicone toy you kept under your bed. you pull away from him and satoru looks dazed.

“i wanna put my mouth on you,” you pant, “can i?”

it takes him a moment to realize what you’re asking and then he’s nodding and looking down at the bulge of his pants. you lift yourself up from his legs and grip onto his sweatpants. “just so you know,” he starts as you tug his pants down, “i’m actually pretty big so just be careful to not hurt yourself–“ he gasps at the feeling of you palming him over his boxers. a shudder moving down his spine when you start to fondle his balls.

“f-fuck okay that for sure feels different when someone else is doing it.” you can’t help but laugh and he rolls his eyes at you. “stop making fun of me, i’m in a very vulnerable state right now!”

your fingertips graze his waistband and start to tug down. even though he has already consented, you glance up at him anyway for approval. when he slowly nods, you finally pull his cock free from its place under his boxers and hold in your gasp.

you would not give him the satisfaction… but, fuck was he pretty. he wasn’t very thick but he was long. soft pale skin until it reached the thick blushed tip. he had a bit of a curve and twitched every time the cold air hit him.

satoru watches as you take him in and feels something stir in his chest. he liked the way you gawked at him, your mouth hovering just barely an inch away and teasingly puffing warm breaths against his already sensitive length.

you examine him more, wanting to see him squirm for a little while longer. and when you finally lean in, it’s to press your tongue to the underside of his clock and drag it up until you reach the tip. satoru let’s out a strangled moan, trying his hardest not to buck his hips into you. you take him in your mouth and use a hand to hold his hip, immediately dropping yourself lower until he hits the back of your throat and his trimmed pubic hair tickles your nose. “f-fuck!” he moans, a hand gripping your shoulder. “baby, shit- slow down or i’m gonna cum before we’ve even started.”

you slowly pull yourself up, tongue smoothing around his tip as he lets out another pretty sound. you decide then that you want to hear it again and reach out a hand to grip his base. his grip on your shoulder tightens as you move faster, bobbing your head around him as saliva collects in your mouth. “you can take it,” you say with a mouth full of cock, pulling yourself up briefly to speak. “just enjoy it, ‘toru.”

and enjoy it he does, releasing his grip on your shoulder so that he can caress your hair. he makes sure not to pull or tangle his fingers in it for fear of hurting you, just gently feeling your pretty strands against his palm. 

“fuck, you’re perfect.” he praises, “i knew you’d be perfect.” when you start to rub your thighs together against the bed, it’s hard for him not to notice.

“i’m a fast learner, you know. y-you can teach me what to do. how to – ah – make you feel good. do you want that?”

you respond by squeezing his balls and satoru jumps, his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. he puts his hand on the nape of your neck and rubs the skin as a way of apology. you lift your head and smile at him.

“you taste good,” you murmur, your lips slick with saliva and precum. satoru thinks he might pass away from the sight. you tug on his shirt, and satoru quickly yanks it off with one arm to toss on the floor. he’s always been thin but it’s only now that you see his toned muscle, the hard contours of his stomach and chest.

following his lead, you reach to tug off your clothes but satoru places his hands over yours. “wait,” he moves them away and grips the hem of your favorite sweatshirt, “i’ve always wanted to take this off you. can i?”

you smile and tilt your head a bit. “always, huh?”

he playfully shoves your shoulder. “shut the hell up. lay back.”

you follow directions, back firmly against the large bed as he pulls your sweatshirt from your head. you aren’t wearing anything underneath and he stares at your breasts in what could only be described as awe. you lift your arms to cover yourself, but satoru is faster. his hands move yours to your sides and he situates himself between your legs. “stay still.” he demands, and you do as you’re told.

he’s deliberate in the way he removes the rest of your clothes, making sure to rub his hands together first so that they don’t feel icy against your skin, pressing kisses against your thighs as he situates himself between your legs. you have half a mind to clamp them shut as he gets unbearably close to where you want him most. “so wet,” he murmurs, glancing up at you in surprise. “i didn’t even touch you.”

you feel heat rising up your neck and face, hoping the darkness concealed the embarrassment on your face. “didn’t have to.”

trying his best (and failing) to hide how pleased he was in himself, satoru reaches over to the bedside table and squirts some of lube on his fingers. he looks up at you for guidance.

“rub them together, warm it up a little,” he nods and you see the slickness seeping in between his long (and recently clipped) fingers.

you show him with your own fingers how to touch you. “use your pointer finger first and then slowly ease into me, okay? take your time but don’t be afraid to tell me if you’re lost.”

satoru’s listens intently, for once not joking as his pointer finger enters your already dripping hole with ease. you make sure to relax further and nod as he starts to gently thrust it into you. “good job, baby, you’re doing so well.”

his fingers are so long that you start to feel a bit of sweat on your brow, you want him to touch the most sensitive part of you, to have you shaking and crying on his cock, but you knew that this wasn’t the time yet. patience was key.

he makes sure to ask you if you’re okay as he adds more fingers, your gentle encouragement turning into pleas. when he leans in to gently stimulate your clit with his tongue, you let out a whimper. “am i doing a good job?” he asks, words muffled as his mouth suckles and licks at your sensitive clit.

you whine, the pace of his fingers quickening after what feels like hours of him easing you open. “fuck, you’re doing so good. keep going, ‘toru.”

the inclusion of his mouth on you is almost overwhelming. you’re surprised that he was doing so well despite having only porn for reference. you know he’s being thorough but it’s hard to keep yourself from pushing him down and taking what you want.

satoru can feel you tighten around him. your moans causing his cock to twitch against the sheets. he needs you, craves you. “baby,” he leans up so that you are face to face, “i want to be inside you now. is that okay?”

you nod your head so quickly he laughs at you. “someone’s eager.”

“shut up and just do it already.” you pout, but he kisses it off your face. partially because he wants to taste you again, and also to distract you from the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you.

“can i ask you for something?” he murmurs, gently biting on your bottom lip and pulling it into his mouth.

“hm?” you murmur against his mouth, “what is it?”

“i want you to ride me,” he says, kissing down to the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. his kisses become rougher, for sure leaving marks on your skin. “i wanna watch you bouncing on top of me, wanna see you make a mess while i’m buried inside you. you can say no but i think i’ve touched myself to the thought too many times to not ask.”

you feel your heart jump to your stomach. “you… thought about me?”

“i still think about you. i know you think about me, too.”

you decide to not engage, ignoring the sudden desire to confess something to him. “get on your back then.” you say, pushing into his ribs so that he’d roll over to the side. he looks so pretty like this, lips all red and puffy. you position yourself over him and satoru runs his hands up your stomach.

“hold me for a sec,” you say, grabbing the box of condoms once he has a steady hold on you. you tear open the packaging and ease it on his extremely hard length. he winces as your hand grips him as it goes down but once it seems to be properly secured, you grab some more lube and squeeze it onto him.

you position yourself on top and line his tip up with your hole. for a moment, you see a look of anxiety in his eyes but it quickly turns into determination. “what’s your color, toru?” you ask, your hand moving to brush some of the hair from his face.

“green. definitely fucking green.”

you feel his grip on your hips tighten and you ease yourself down on his length. he tenses up once he feels the first squeeze of you around him but as you slowly sink down his grip on you tightens and he forgets how to breathe. “h-holy shit why are you so tight?”

you let your hands rest on his chest as you catch your breath, you realize how thankful you are for the prep from before when you shiver at the feeling of him twitching inside you. “c-can i move?” you whimper, feeling his grip release just a bit.

satoru nods his head and you feel him helping you lift yourself up and then back down again, sucking him in from the tip and back down to the base. he lets out a guttural moan that you feel rumble in his chest. he looks up at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. 

“faster,” he breathes out, “fuck me faster.”

“s-satoru!” you moan, burying your face in his neck as you grind your hips against him.

“wrap your arms around me. i want to try something.” your arms loop around his neck and he plants his feet into the mattress. before you can process the change, he starts to thrust into you at a brutal pace, the air in your lungs leaving you with each thrust. it isn’t perfect and it takes a moment for him to get a solid rhythm but once he does you feel yourself relinquish control.

your mouth falls open as you pant into his skin — a thin layer of sweat sticking your bodies together. you feel a familiar pressure between your legs and try your best to warn him. “baby i–“

“you’re squeezing me so tight. are you gonna, oh fuck–!” you can’t stop yourself from cumming against him, your release pouring out of you and dripping down on his cock as he continues to fuck your tight hole. the mixture of cum and lube sticky and matting the hair at his finely trimmed base. satoru’s thrusts get sloppy and hurried, his grip on you keeping you from moving away. but you have no intention of running from him.

“t-too t-tight. gonna cum–!”

satoru’s releases into the condom, his hips jolting with each thick spurt. his pace slows as you whine and whimper against his chest. your fucked out body barely registering the hot, sticky mess between you two. “sorry, i think i might have scratched you,” you whisper, finger grazing over a red line in his shoulder.

“it’s alright… just lay here with me for a sec.” you nod your head weakly, pressing your face into his neck. you decide to talk about things in the morning but that doesn’t stop him using a warm rag to clean you off and giving you one of his shirts to sleep in.

he also forces you to drink a few gulps of water. some of it spills out the sides of your mouth and he makes you laugh when he sticks out his tongue to lick it up. he then makes sure that you take care of your hair before you fall asleep, keeping it protected under a bonnet. he’s attentive and gentle, so far beyond what you imagined he’d ever be towards you with his usually goofy personality.

that is until you wake up the next morning and see a few messages light up on your phone.

[8:00 am] toru: ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ヽ(°□° )ノ me drowning in your pussy last night lol

[8:10 am] toru: jk plz come help with breakfast i burned the pancakes.

let’s just say that you appreciate the attempt.

over the next few days, you talk a bit more about the state of your relationship. if you wanted to be open about it online or if you wanted to let things fizzle out on their own. eventually, after setting more than a few ground rules, you both agree to be discrete. you'd let everyone else figure it out in their own time.

this doesn't halt satoru's social media presence, though, the man posting a photo of the new feline addition to his family. he easily gains back his two hundred followers thanks to ‘exploiting his new child’ as you put it.

the future looked promising, but there were still things you both had to work through to make your relationship work. it was going to be hard navigating life as lovers instead of friends but if anyone were to ask you – it was well worth the effort.

note: so if this looks familiar, it is! this is a repost. i unfortunately deleted this fic on accident so, here it is again. it felt like the perfect opportunity to reformat and change some things so hopefully you guys like it. this is the longest fic i’ve ever written and it holds a special place in my heart. thanks for reading.

also ty to @saintshigaraki for originally inspiring this story.

TODOROSIE. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

“Okay, Toji.” You sweetly smiled, and he finds a peculiar liking to the way you rolled his two-syllable name off your tongue. Music starts to play— your cue and his half-lidded eyes dart towards your body that’s gently swaying and rollicking to the beats of the song. You make your way toward his lap, the lights are dim so he can just enough make out your glamorizing face.

He’s leaned back against the cushioned sofa, and you’re on his lap, propping your hands onto his shoulders. Toji feels the craggy edges of the dollar bills that are stuck near the lower part of your lingerie, probably tips from other recent customers. The currency ranged from $50 to even $100 dollar bills. Could a sweet thing like you really be that good?

Your glossy lips are parted as you’re grinding your hips smoothly against him to the rhythm of the loud song playing. Toji’s giving you his uninvited attention, and he’s starting to imagine a plethora of things he could do to you, your young saccharine body that’s all dolled up, moving up and down against his lap.

“Fuck.” Toji mutters, and he’s getting hard. You’ve got such a voluptuous charm and charism to you, he’s nearly suffocating because of your exotic redolence, expensive perfume smothering him tremendously. You lean in, real close to Toji, minuscule hands sliding down both sides of his triceps before you’re pressed up against his face.

He’s staring up at you, and you’re being a tease, nose gently rubbing against his. You could have easily snuck a kiss from him if you wanted to. Toji’s breath is minty and fresh, along with the sweet scent of alcohol.

Smiling from his slightly yearning state, you remove yourself from his lap, doing a figure eight with your body, rubbing your hands all over yourself, and bend down while planting your hands on his laps — spreading them more while wriggling your ass playfully.

Once you start to touch yourself though, run your fingers towards your breasts, and near the glimmering thong you wore, he practically loses it. Toji softly grunts from the growing problem you were creating between his legs. You were so hot, straddling him again before within about twenty minutes, the bewildering session with you was unfortunately over.

“Thank you for your—”

“Wait,” Toji cuts you off in a gravelly voice, and his eye contact is utterly striking. You’re still straddling his lap with a cute dumbfounded look on your face. “When’s your next shift? I wanna see you again.”

Your earrings dangle as you slightly move your head forward. “This was my last session. But I’m working a night shift tomorrow from 9PM to 4AM.”

“I see,” Toji mutters, and it’s really warm, you almost don’t want to get up from his lap. Until you feel it. His bulge hiding underneath his sweatpants. You stare at him with a skittish smile, kneading your lips together while batting your eyelashes. “I know it’s probably against policy,” and you watch as his eyes continuously flicker toward your lips as well as your glistening body. “But I really wanna fuck the shit out of you. You’re responsible for this boner I got, you know.”

You hum as a response, heels still on and near the sides of his thighs. “I mean… I am technically off work, Mr. Fushiguro.”

“Toji.” He cavils lowly, correcting you.

“Right, Toji,” you cutely corrected yourself, in a playful mood, still gnashing your hips against him. You can feel how agonizingly hard he is. It’s poking against your protected g-string, and you stare at him with eager eyes. “How about... you lie back and let me help you with your problem?”

Toji exhales through his nose softly before watching you get down on your knees. “Uh huh. Go ahead,” and as you’re watching him yank the white knot in his sweats with one hand, he raises a dark brow at you. “Didn’t catch your name, hon.”

“Y/N.” You muttered with a smile, knees pressed against the high glossed shiny floor. His cock merely twitches at the sound of your name, and you couldn’t wait to feast. The way he slouched on sofa, staring at you menacingly was enough to make you throb. Eagerly, you spring his veiny thick cock out, wrapping your acrylic nails around it while pursing your damp lips. All you could do was stare, stupidly — precum coating down the sides of his angry fat mushroom tip.

Toji’s patience is running thin with you, which is why he grunts, clearly showing more dominance as he grips your chin with one hand. “Open wide,” and you obey, cutely lolling out your tongue before he uses another hand to firmly hold his cock, grudgingly slapping the thick head of his dick against your tongue. You let out a needy moan in response, and he‘s staring at you with dilated dark pupils. “Good.... Now use your fucking tongue.”

Happily, you start to sink your mouth down onto Toji’s tremendous girth. He’s admirably well trimmed, and watches, as you’re so adorable, using your glossy plump, limps to shield your teeth. His cum tastes healthy at the least, sweet almost like candy.

Your hand’s sliding up and down, occasionally tapping against his hefty base. It doesn’t take long for your head to start bobbling on his cock. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, big strong hands tightly maintaining a grip on your hair, calloused fingers locked deep beneath your scalp. Toji’s a tease, once he hears you gag on his dick, he grunts, yanking your hair up a bit to see that cute twinkle in your eye. “Fuck,” he sharply inhales, head slightly going back. Your mouth’s so sloppy and before long, your makeup’s ruined. It only takes a few minutes before your mascara is racing down your cheeks, with your champagne lip gloss almost practically smudged. “Filthy fucking mouth. You look so pretty like this, Y/N.”

Pussy twitching from his sly praising comment, he’s reaching deep into your throat, to that raunchy uvula of yours that’s consistently being tickled by his angry tip, you can’t help but reach down to play with yourself.

“Better savor this meal. And every drop I give you too.” Toji rebuked, nostrils flaring at how much of a good job you were doing. His taste is just something you can’t get enough of — drool running down the corners of your mouth, sliding a finger inside of your puffy neglected cunt. You couldn’t lie, ever since you saw that Toji Fushiguro was your client, your sweet feline friend between your legs went stupidly feral. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. The fact that he was twice your age, a lot more mature, and experienced in lots of different ways or maybe another variety of things your cute brain didn’t want to comprehend at the moment.

You bat your eyelashes, sticky fat tears sticking to them as you moan with his cock in your mouth. You’re essentially using him to get off yourself, swaying your hips gently from your fingers stuffed deep in your core as your head continues to bobble up and down, in an almost comical manner. Right then though, you made him sexily groan as he feels you use your tongue to excitedly stimulate the head of his cock. “Cock hungry whore,” He growls, and he feels himself coming close, catching the smug smile you have spreading on your lips before starting to thrust his hips into your mouth, wiping that smile clean. “I’ll feed you right. Stuff this mouth full of dick. That’s it, baby girl. Relax your throat— fuck.”

Your knees dig into the ground as you’ve got a good grip on his length, pretty eyelashes fluttering every so often to look up at him as your throat’s being completely violated willingly.

“Shit,” he grumbles, and he lets out a stuttering breath that makes your cunt pulsate. Toji’s muscles tighten, and before he knows it, his orgasm hits him like an abrupt semi-truck His loins were being visited by multiple lightning strikes and you feel his hot sticky cum spurt right into your mouth. Again, he tastes sweet and by this point your eyes are half-lidded, and he grunts huskily while getting another grip on your head. “O-Open.”

You do, incredibly soaked yourself by now and Toji stares down at your throat, bright pink tongue twitching as he again slaps his cock down into your mouth, cum coating your tongue like little cute sprinkles. Quickly, you lick him clean like the good girl you were, digging your nails into his clenched calves while watching him groan from how dirty you were.

“Good. Fuck, I can’t wait anymore.” he huffs, and Toji lifts you up onto the sofa, and you get the gist. He wants you to ride him, cowgirl style. You’re swiping off some of the remains of his lid from your mouth with his tongue, before preparing to prop down onto his lap. You grab onto his length, aligning yourself, and let out a sweet moan — feeling his head prod against your entrance. It astounded him with how wet you were.

You’re sat up straight and watch as he easily shoves the panty piece of your lingerie aside. You twist your hand swiftly to push his cock into you, and he’s slowly sinking in. “Y-You’re really big Toji.”

“Good,” he groggily huffs, and his arms are placed back to the same position they were earlier — arms around the cushioned sofa with his legs sexily sprawled apart. The crown of his cock easily slides in between your pussy lips and your hips jostle against him slightly before you’re being ultimately swallowed by his warmth. You bite your lip once he’s halfway in, and your skin starts to heat up all over your body once you catch him gawking right at you, low-lidded eyes in all. “Come to think of it, Y/N,” and the way he lowly mutters your name makes your cunt twitch pathetically. Toji swipes a thumb across your glossed smeared lips and grunts silently. “I’d prefer if you’d call me Daddy. Need to hear your sweet voice talk to me more.”

You’re all the way in with his cock buried deep deep deep between your slippery slick folds. He watches your back arch, your eyelids lowering themselves before you reply in a sweet, near whiney voice. “O—Okay daddy,” and he watches you cutely start to bounce your hips against his lap, and you don’t think you’ve ever taken anyone as big as Toji before. He stretched you out like an elastic band in all the right places. “Whatever you say… daddy..”

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, and Toji can’t keep his eyes or hands off of you. You’re softly slipping out melodic music note moans, soft panted breaths completely shattered. Toji wraps a big veiny hand around your neck, a nice and comfortable grip before he stares at you menacingly. “You always this obedient, girl?”

“No.” You’d choke out a whimper, grinding your hips against him as your walls spasmed and fluttered around his length. Your mind still couldn’t process how big Toji was, let alone how you were taking him so well.

A smug smile tugs on his pink lips, kneading his eyebrows together. “No what?”

Your hips swivel and buck against him, and you’ve got your hands on his shoulders firmly — eyes nearly rolling from the dramatic stretch. “No daddy. I- I’m not always this obedient,” and then he presents your plump ass with a spank, it stings but it feels good, and you’re drowning in his strong loud manly fragrance scent. “I’ll only be obedient for y-you though.”

“Better fucking be,” he snarls, gripping your bare ass. He’s touchy, and you don’t mind because his touch sends shockwaves all throughout your body as you’re bouncing on him. Toji fiddles with the dollar bills stuck beneath your lingerie, making you lean towards him to keep up a good pace at riding him. Your moans are purely angelic, all close and personal against his ear, whining against his earlobe, your warm breath fans against his skin and it makes him groan, all while being balls deep inside of your cute college girl cunt. “You get like this for all your customers, huh? Fucking them after a lap dance?”

A cheeky whimper rips out the back of your throat as you look at him dead in the face, spit glossing your parted even lips. “Only for the ones named T-Toji Fushiguro, daddy.”

He sexily narrows his eyes at you, and you give him a playfully grin — because you knew he liked your answer. Toji grabs a fat chunk of your ass, before rubbing a rough free hand down to your pussy, watching your facial muscles retaliate. Forming into a cute gasp. “Good girl. Glad to know that you know your place.”

The both of you lost track of time completely, it’s damn near three in the morning now, and probably two hours passed. Toji’s gave you a stupendous amount of toe-curling, back-arching orgasms that make you unable to spit out coherent words to him. It’s like all the words that are embedded on your tongue are the same constantly whiney pathetic whimpers, “Daddy daddy daddy.” It’s music to his ears, it gets him off a lot, and he’s having so much fun with you. Toji didn’t expect to enjoy himself this much at a strip club, but of course, your sweet pussy was the judge of that.

“I’m c—close again, daddy,” you’d sniffle, and he fucked you into a frenzy. Your poor brain was incompatible. Almost as if his cock made your adorable sweet body malfunction. It was addicting. You can’t remember the last time sex had you going this feral like this, there’s tears streaming down your face with your mascara staining the plush cushioned settee. He’s got you in the prone-bone position, admiring how cute your body’s twitching because of each sloppy jagged thrust. You’re laid on your chest, not able to do anything but sit there and take it. “Y—You’re gonna make me cum u-until I can’t cum anymore..”

“Don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart,” Toji chuckles lowly, and he’s got a good grip on the back of your throat, fingertips tickling the hairs that stood on your neck. He repeats the same method, massaging the soft pad of his thumb against the middle part of the passageway of your larynx. He’s rolling his hips — exquisitely slamming them deep into you so much, it’s got your tongue lewdly lolled out in such a pornographic manner. You were so sweet. So sweet for him. “But fuck, I’m gonna cum again too.”

Your walls clench around him, holding his cock hostage and he hissed from it while bringing a spank to your ass.

“Tight. ass. pussy.” He growls between thrusts, the skin slapping that’s reverberating around the room is so dirty. Toji’s really good with his rhythm, grinding his hips against your slick core. The crown of his cock continually slams against the sensitive nub between your folds gets you to let out a loud whiney scream. Toji’s cock twitches from your cute noises, and he leans in up to your neck, stuffing his fingers down your mouth, a keen sign for you to shut the fuck up. The strip club was well over closed by now, but there was still loud deafening music in the background. More than likely, there were still some drunkards hanging around. You willingly curl your tongue around his fingers, sucking them while your moans were muffled. “Cum for me, pretty girl.” He grunts, your neck wearing his hand like some new expensive necklace.

Your eyes roll back from your now fifth or so orgasm. To be fair, you stopped counting well after your third one. “T-Thank you. thank you.. t-thank you…” You’d babble, and your body’s shaking, a sweet gargled moan rippling from the back of your uvula. A spring of coil troughs and snaps within you, and your tight walls spasm. His hips slow down rapidly, but his thrusts are still incredibly sloppy and raunchy. You give him yet another pretty ring of cream around his cock, and you’re slumped, drooling all on the pillow you held onto. “Now it’s your turn d—daddy. Want you to paint my fucking insides.”

“Watch your fucking mouth girl,” he playfully groans, giving your ass another smack. You giggle, so cock-drunk by now because of his cock. You hardly recognize yourself by this point. You’re so fucked dumb, you’re babbling mere nothings into the satin black pillow. “You gonna use your manners and say pretty please, Y/N?”

You weren’t facing Toji, but you’d bet good money he has such a smug, condescending expression plastered on his face, as he’s occasionally playing with the now torn strings of your lingerie.

“Please…daddy?” You stammered, and he was quick to toss you on your back. Toji’s staring at you hungrily, sweat racing and trickling down his dark eyebrows. “Want you to feel me up,” and as you’re literally speaking words from your pussy — mind completely dumb, you grope your perky sensitive nipples with a slight pout. “Stuff me full. S-Show me what it’s like to be stuffed full by a real man.”

Toji grunts, and hears you let off a shriveling exhale. “Mmm,” is all he says, a sly smile forming on his lips. Once he cums again, finally inside of you this time, you moan against his neck, ruffling up his black strands with your legs locked around his slim fitted waist. He’s pumping his thick velvety ropes of cum deep inside your pussy, and you hoped it reached inside your womb too. His orgasm is so sexy, his voice is husky and he tries to conceal his raspy grunts and moans by sinking his pearly white teeth softly onto your skin. He sucks on your sweet skin, finally stopping and you feel so full. Stuffed like a cute little turkey. “Fuck.”

You both panted, and you sat up to glance into his eyes deeply. Your body lurches as he pulls out, savory messy cum filling you to the brim, and your body feels slightly disappointed from his cock being out of you. “Toji.” you muttered softly, and he holds your waist, raising a brow as a sign of attentiveness. It’s more of a whine, really— and you lean in to kiss him passionately, hands propped on his shoulders as your stuffed pussy flutters around nothing.

He thinks you taste so sweet. Toji’s head lies back, and you’re flickering your warm tongue against his, producing warm breathy, and exotic moans into his mouth, brushing your thumb gently against the slanted scar near his lips. Your body was fucked absolutely foolish, and you were sore but you didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever.

Toji pulls away, watching the strings of spit depart before you pout, you‘re sliding a hand down his toned pectorals. “I— I could get fired!” You suddenly blurted, eyes widening from the realization. He smiles at your cuteness, only now realizing how it was basically a forbidden rule to fuck on the job. Especially between strippers and customers.

“No one’s gotta know, baby.” Toji chuckled, planting a kiss on the crown of your head. You watch him get up to look at least somewhat decent, sliding his grey sweats back on before he abruptly lifts you up off the couch, snatching your purse near the liquor cabinet in the process.

You furrowed your eyebrows with a giggle, arms instinctively thrown over his neck. “U-Um? Where are we going?”

“You‘re coming home with me, princess.” Toji gruffs lowly, tucking your lingerie. And he pauses to whip out his wallet, stuffing hundred dollar bills all between the straps of your lingerie, and you cutely gasp at the tremendous tips he gifts you.

“Baby, I can’t take these panties off if you’re choking my hand between your pretty thighs.” He placed his veiny hand over your smaller ones, wanting to remove them from your face.

“No no, let me see you. C’mon, pretty girl.” He reassured you.

“I’m sorry for being so stupid, I’m just-“

“You’re not stupid. You’re just nervous.” He stopped you mid-sentence. His lips soon found their place on your soft ones.

As you two were lovingly kissing each other, you relaxed your legs so that Dabi’s hand finally felt free. He moved it from the outside of your thigh to your hip, playing with his fingers with the thin string of your panties.

“Will you let me take ‘em off?” He said through kisses.

“Hmm hmm.” You mumbled.

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Yes…you can take them off.” You answered clearly as a string of saliva was attaching your lips to his. He quickly licked it away by licking your lower lip with the tip of his stitched tongue.

You always wondered what his tongue could have felt like.

He quickly ran his hand under your (his) oversized t-shirt and got his hand close to your naked breasts.

“Touya…” You softly let out.

“It’s okay, just relax. You trust me - right?” He placed two fingers under your chin, lifting it up so that he could look better into your beautiful eyes.

“Of course, I trust you.” You said, earning a smirk from him.

As you said that, he shifted his fingers under the thin string of your panties, slowly drifting them off you. Your pussy was met with the cold sensation of the cool breeze against it.

You couldn’t help but turn your head to the side, you were extremely nervous and you could barely look at him because you loved him so damn much.

He pushed your panties somewhere on the mattress as he gently caressed your legs, making your heart flutter and giving you goosebumps.

“Spread your legs f’me.”

“And hey. Look at me, I wanna see those beautiful eyes of yours full of tears from how good I’m making you feel.” He once again made you meet his gaze, you looked so pretty vulnerable like that, he swore his pants got tighter at the sight of such a sight.

You did as he told you and you felt his hands running through the inside of your thighs. His lips found their place on yours once again, he wanted to make you melt into the kiss so that you could just relax for him.

Once he felt that your muscles weren’t as tense as before, he started to gently rub his thumb in a circular motion on your sensitive clit, making you grip his forearm.

“Dabi-“ You gasped on his lips as you stopped the kiss.

“You’re so soft…you’re gonna drive me insane.” His tone was raspy as he kissed along your jaw and his finger got close to your entrance.

“Can I touch you more?”

You nodded.

“Words, use your words.” He demanded.

“Touch me more, Touya…please.”

His skilled finger found its way inside your tight and needy hole, which was wet enough to make his finger slip in pretty smoothly.

“Fuck, baby. I can feel how tight you are, you’re so wet holy shit.”

“I- I always get wet because of you, even just at the thought of you.” You confessed as you started panting faster, your breathing got heavier and your body ran hotter as his finger was carefully curling inside of you, touching your sweet spot.

“Yeah? So you’re telling me this pretty pussy is always wet for me? Clenching on thin air without getting the chance of being fingered or fucked by my cock?”

“What a shame.” He clicked his tongue as he inserted another finger in.

“Dabi, ahh~” You moaned out loud, feeling another thick finger allowing its way into your entrance.

“I need to stretch you out. I’m gonna stretch this pretty pussy out nice and good.” He kept working his fingers inside, the wet sounds that your pussy made could be heard in the whole room.

You covered your face once again with your hands in utter embarrassment.

“Hey, thought I told you I want to look at you and I want you to look at me.”

“You’re doing so good, taking my fingers so well.”

“It’s embarrassing, Dabi…”

“No, it’s not. Sounds and looks pretty hot to me.”

“I want you to be louder, baby.” He stated as he started kissing your thighs as he kept fingering you and curling his fingers deep inside of your cunt.

“Ahh, please- I’m close.” You moaned, slightly arching your back and gripping the sheets.

“Cum for me, I can feel you clenching on my fingers. Let me just…” He stopped mid-sentence as he got between your thighs and added his tongue and mouth to guide you to orgasm.

He gently sucked on your clit and flicked his tongue over it, your eyes opened wide, you couldn’t keep it down because it felt just too good.

“Dabi~” You were already a babbling mess, you could only let out his name because it just felt too good. It was a new sensation that made you feel so loved and free, it was just you and him. Nobody else. It was simply beautiful.

“Cum f’me.” He ordered.

You couldn’t resist anymore and you eventually released all over his fingers, screaming his name at the liberating feeling. You were panting heavily, Dabi removed his fingers from inside your wet cunt and licked your juices off of them.

“Such a good girl, you taste so fucking good.” He praised you as he placed his hands on each side of your body, trapping you and kissing you once again, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Wanna go further?” He sat back on his knees as he removed his t-shirt, showing off his pierced nipples. He then unbuckled his studded belt.

“How much further?” Your glossy eyes sparkled and shifted from side to side while meeting his passionate and caring gaze.

“Do you want to feel my cock stretching you out? You tell me, pretty girl. I’m gonna keep going only if you’re ready.”

You bite your lip, nervous to elaborate, voice timid. “I’ve heard that long distance is really hard.”

He stands up, crossing his arms over his chest. “So? We’ll get through it.”

“Will we, though? I’m going to be busy with school, and you’re starting your new job. Plus, Marley is so far away. When are we ever going to see each other?” 

He stares at you as if you’re sputtering nonsense. “We’ll make it work,” he answers, definitive. 

“It’s not going to be easy.”

He scratches his scalp, frustrated. “I don’t understand. Do you want to break up?”

You stay quiet, contemplating. When you don’t respond right away, he says, “You do, don’t you?” He sounds like he’s been betrayed, which in retrospect, he has been. By you, of all people. The person who’s supposed to love him. 

Breathing staggered, tears welling in your eyes, you murmur, “I just don’t know if we can do it.”

He begins pacing the floor, voice increasing in volume, rightfully upset. “You don’t know if you can do it. Me? I’m all in. You’re already giving up before we try.”

“I just don’t want either of us to get hurt!” you cry.

“What do you call this, then?!” he yells, tears rolling down his cheeks. “This fucking hurts! Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way sooner?”

“I don’t know! I wasn’t sure! I was scared.” You sob into your hands. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

He’s shaking his head erratically, fists bunched in his hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. After all we’ve been through. You don’t even want to give it a shot.”

You swallow hard, wiping snot from your nose. “We can try it out. Let’s try it out,” you plead with him, regretting it. 

“No. It’s too late now. You already set us up for failure. Since you’re not confident about us, then maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.” He sounds spiteful. Daggers piercing through your heart in the form of harsh words. And while you struggle for breath, drenching the fabric of your t-shirt, you can’t blame him for reacting this way. You spent an amazing summer together, and the night before you leave, you drop a grenade like this. What were you thinking?

“Eren,” you beg, sniffling

“I gotta go,” he mutters, grabbing his keys, avoiding your gaze. 

“Eren, wait!” you shout, following him out the room. Down the stairs. Through the front door. In front of his car. “Eren! I’m sorry! I take it back!”

“Have a nice life in Marley,” he spits out, getting into his car, slamming it shut, and reversing out of the driveway without another word. Headlights reflect off the shimmer in your eyes, watching him leave.

That’s the last time you saw Eren. The next day, you boarded your flight to Marley and moved into your new home. You tried to call him, text him, even pestered friends and family to urge him to reach out to you. He never did. And all the while, you still don’t blame him for reacting the way he did. 

The two of you were happy. You loved each other. And when an inkling of hardship reared its ugly head, you ran for it instead of facing it. There’s no way you could have predicted that your relationship would fall apart. In fact, there’s many times that you’ve considered how much stronger the two of you would have gotten if you did stay together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. If you had believed that sooner, you wouldn’t be living with this remorse. 

It's been over two years since that day. Life continued, though it was tough not having Eren around anymore. He was always your biggest supporter, the anchor that kept you afloat. Grad school wouldn’t have been as stressful if you had him by your side, but you managed to scrape by. You made new friends along the way while maintaining your relationships from home. Mikasa and you would chat regularly, and on occasion, she would mention Eren’s name in passing. You received little footnotes of his life through her, but overall, he’s a stranger to you now. 

That being said, you’re shocked to finally hear from him after that fateful night two years ago. 

Following graduation, you secured a job in Paradis nearby your hometown. For now, the plan is to move in with your family until you save enough money to move out. Unfortunately, you don’t have car. So, in an unexpected turn of events, you sit in the rear of a taxi, on your way to Eren’s. 

Eren: Heard you’re home and you need a car.

Those were his first words to you after two whole years of radio silence. After telling you to have a nice life in Marley. Of course, you were stunned when his name popped up on your screen in the first place, even more so to see his offer to help you. Most likely he was informed about your current situation by Mikasa. Nevertheless, it shocks you that he wants anything to do with you. 

You actually want to meet with him. It may be no more than a business transaction, but to see him in the flesh will be nice. Will it fix what happened? Probably not. It’s worth a shot, though, for some peace of mind. Maybe this is his own way of telling you that he’s over it, and that the two of you can finally put this to bed. 

So, you arrange a time to meet at his place. He gives you an unfamiliar address; it seems he moved out of his parent’s house not long after he started working. Mikasa had mentioned that before. What she’s never disclosed with you is if he’s been dating. On your way to him, your belly begins to fill with dread. Could you handle seeing Eren with another woman? Living together, happily in love? You want him to be happy, but with someone else? Deep down, you still love him. You never dated anyone seriously during your time in Marley. No one even came close to him. He’ll never get back together with you, not after what happened. In fact, you’re positive he’s already found someone, a person who will appreciate him and love him for all he is. Someone who isn’t afraid. It’s better he’s with someone else; you actually hope you see that today, so that you can finally move on. 

The trip takes over half an hour. You recognize the route being taken; the same one you would take on the way to Paradis University, where you and Eren met for the first time. During freshman year, Mikasa, your roommate at the time, introduced you to him. The two of you became fast friends, even faster lovers. The spark was there the moment you shook his hand, the moment he gazed into your eyes, flashing that charming smile at you. It was casual at first, no labels, no strings attached. Two horny college kids fulfilling their sexual desires exclusively with one another. Kisses and sex soon became something more, something special. By the time you were sophomores, it was official: he was yours and you were his. 

The driver enters a quaint neighborhood, pulling up to the front of a modern apartment complex. Once you pay the fare, you step out, inspecting the building. Eren lives on the third floor; each unit has a balcony overlooking the neighborhood, the nearby cityscape in the near distance. It’s a beautiful location and your curiosity gets the best of you. Who is he currently sharing his life with? Do they watch sunrises together from their grand view, sipping their morning coffee in domestic bliss? Should it be you instead? 

Before you get carried away with your imagination, you retrieve your phone from your bag, texting him that you have arrived and are waiting outside. There’s no reason for you to head up into his apartment, right? You’re here to check out his car; that’s it. You can’t help thinking that it would be fun to check out. For research purposes, of course.

He replies quickly, mentioning how he’ll head down to you. You take a few deep breaths, mentally preparing yourself to see him for the first time ever since your bitter goodbye. Do you hug him? Keep your distance? Should you say anything personal or keep it strictly professional? All of these conflicting feelings are fighting with each other in your head. There’s so much you want to tell him: your life the last two years, how sorry you are for the way it ended, how much you miss him. At the same time, you want a clean slate, almost as if you’re strangers meeting for the first time. 

As he steps out from the lobby, you freeze on the spot, dazzled by his presence. What strikes you initially is how long his hair has gotten; it’s enough to put up into a small bun, with a few stray strands scattered around his face. His eyes are as brilliant as ever, barely visible dark circles underneath from age or stress, most likely the lather; it hasn’t been that long. There’s still that youthful charm about him, though. That will never fade.

He's dressed in a plain white t-shirt and black sweats pants, an outfit reminiscent of his college years, laid-back and casual. You’ve always liked this look on him, always found it sexy. Too many memories of you stripping this exact attire off him, hasty to make love in the twin bed of his dormitory. You try to shake these thoughts away as he approaches you with a rigid disposition, hesitant and a bit awkward. He clears his throat before saying, “Hey.” His hands are in his pockets as he greets you. 

You respond with a gentle smile. “Hi.”

This is going to be harder than you thought. 

~~~

Two years. That’s how long it’s been since they broke up, since he last saw her. Two whole fucking years. 

Eren didn’t want to break up. The thought never even crossed his mind. He was determined to be with her the rest of his life, of their lives. That’s why he got so upset when she suggested it. They spent an entire summer together, perfect in every possible way, and she had the nerve to ask that question the night before the big move? Do you think we should break up? He couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. They were supposed to love each other forever. 

It doesn’t excuse the way he behaved to her afterwards. Instead of discussing it like a mature adult, he exploded, too caught up in the storm of emotions raging in his head. His ego was hurt, pride shot down, heart betrayed. Following that night, Eren was too ashamed by the whole ordeal; he thought it’d be easier to ignore it and move on. 

Move on. Yeah right.

He replays those scenes constantly. Her pleas of We can try it out. Let’s try it out. I’m sorry! I take it back! ringing in his ears like a broken record, reminding him that if they talked about it, if he had just turned around to work it out, maybe they’d still be together. They’d be happy. It’s the biggest regret of his life; not fighting for her and letting her slip away. A fleeting moment of weakness and fear leading to their ultimate demise. A tragic ending to such a beautiful story. Can they ever get the happy ending they wanted? 

He tried to date other women; it never amounted to anything serious. Eventually, Eren gave up on the dating scene all together, focusing his energy on other priorities like his career and friendships. He was hoping that one day, he’d magically be over her.

When Mikasa informs him about her move back to Paradis, he knows immediately he needs to meet with her. Seeing her one last time might be the key to moving on once and for all. So, he finally decides to be mature and contact her, under the guise of giving her one of his cars. In his defense, he’s been meaning to sell it anyways. He never could quite let it go, though, considering it’s the car he drove all throughout college, with her. Late night drives to Maria’s Point, holding hands and kissing beneath the stars. Fast food runs at their favorite drive-thru, her feeding French fries to him from the passenger side, cruising through the empty streets with their favorite music blaring through the radio speakers. Even the backseat has seen plenty of action during those years, the foreground to many naughty trysts away from campus. Every corner of it carries a memory of her; that’s why he’s been so reluctant to let it go. He still loves her. But that’s all in the past. This car will be the final peace offering that will allow him to move on. He’s got it all planned out. 

What he’s not prepared for is the rush of emotions that flood his chest upon seeing her. This is definitely not part of the plan. 

When he greets her, she smiles at him, the same radiant smile he’s yearned for the two years of her absence. One that instantly warms his soul. He does his best to maintain his composure. Keep it together, he thinks to himself, stuffing his hands in his pockets while he clenches his fists, bursting at the seams. This isn’t part of the plan. 

He kicks the ground with his heels, fidgeting. “So…it’s been a minute, huh?” He does a mental eye roll to himself. Did he really say that? Idiot, idiot, idiot. 

She giggles, and he nearly combusts. How is it that a simple laugh can ignite every fiber of his being? He’s a fool for assuming he could get through this unscathed. “Yeah. It has. How are you?” Her expression is sincere; he always loved that about her, how intently she listens, how much she cares. Even after their harsh breakup, that sincerity remains. She’s making this much more difficult than he expected. 

He shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m okay. You?”

She mimics him, raising her shoulders. “I’m alright.”

He chews his lip nervously before asking, “Well, do you want to check out the car?” Stick to the plan. Stick to the plan, he reminds himself. 

She nods, following him to the parking garage to his designated spot. Her eyes widen when she sees it. “You want to sell me this?”

“Yup.”

She inspects it, mouth parted, surprised. “Wow. The Titan.”

He busts out in laughter, amused that she remembers the silly nickname they came up with freshman year. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

She turns to look at him, eyes twinkling, lips curled into a warm smile. “How could I forget?”

He swallows hard, saliva thick on his tongue. Fluttering in his core, tingling through his fingers. The question stumbles out quickly. “Want to take it out for a spin? A test drive?” 

Eren’s aware that this is dangerous territory. The two of them, enclosed in the small space of his car, memories in every crevice of the interior. It’s his chance to properly apologize for what happened. That’s how he justifies it, at least. Part of him also wants to recreate their past together. Riding in his car, fingers laced together on the center console, singing their favorite songs with the windows rolled down, wind blowing on their smiling faces. It’s infeasible; he doesn’t even know if she feels the same way. There’s that tiny portion of him that holds out hope; she did agree to meet him. That means something, right?

She contemplates for a moment. “Sure. Can you drive, though?”

“Still the passenger princess, I see.” 

“Some things never change, right?” She gives him a wink before stepping to the side of the car, waiting for him to unlock the doors. 

He gulps, thrilled and jittery at whatever adventure they’re about to embark on. In the corner of his mind, all he can think is 

Fuck the plan. 

~~~

You weren’t supposed to get in it with him. The idea was to meet him and do the exchange, simple as that. When you recognize the car, all the memories you shared flood into your mind. You let your emotions get the best of you; you want one more special moment with Eren. It’s only fair to your relationship to end it on a good note, right? You weren’t expecting anything more than closure, which was what the both of you needed. 

He doesn’t tell you where he’s driving to, but he doesn’t have to. By the time you’re on the highway, you watch the sun set in the distance from the rearview mirror. You pass by multiple signs, indicating Maria’s Point in x number of miles, the amount decreasing the closer you approach it. The two of you chat, condensing all from the past two years into a half hour car ride. You describe your experience in grad school, he talks about his full-time job. It’s cordial, like two old friends catching up after a while being apart. Except the both of you are fully aware of the elephant squished in the backseat of The Titan. Neither of you mention anything about it.

He drives up the familiar hill leading up to the panorama at the top of the cliff. This spot of Maria’s Point is often secluded, which was perfect for you and Eren back in the day. He parks away from the edge, the last rays of orange and pink hovering on the skyline. With a twist of his keys, he shuts off the ignition and it’s silent. Suddenly, after effortless conversation, you’re shy, unable to speak. 

Luckily, he does. “I actually want to talk to you about something important.”

You snap your seatbelt off, adjusting to give him your full attention. His hands remain on the steering wheel, drumming his fingers nervously. “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night.” He doesn’t need to elaborate; you know exactly what he’s referring to. You’re caught off guard from the apology, so you keep quiet, waiting for him to continue. 

After a deep breath, he explains, “I blew up, and I shouldn’t have. I got upset because I thought you had given up before we even tried. But I know you were scared; I was too. Regardless, it wasn’t right and I’m sorry. For that and for avoiding you after.” He slides his hands around the wheel, dropping them to his lap. His eyes are forward, avoiding you. 

When he doesn’t have more to add, you respond. “Thank you. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have blindsided you. I should have told you how I was feeling instead of ignoring it until the last minute. Like you said, I was scared, so I ran away from it without even giving it a shot. It wasn’t fair to you, and it wasn’t fair to us.” He’s focuses on you now, listening carefully as you talk. “Just so you know, I never blamed you for how you reacted. I deserved it.”

He shifts his body towards you, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t deserve that. I didn’t even say goodbye.”

You blink away the oncoming tears from your eyes. “It’s okay, Eren. We can do that now.”

The stillness that follows is concerning. He studies you with an unreadable expression, contemplating. Then, he leans closer to you, elbow resting on the center console, his breath tickling your cheeks, whispering, “I don’t want to say goodbye.”

You gravitate towards him, lessening the space between you, gazing at his lips. “You don’t?”

“I never wanted to in the first place.”

Drifting forward, you rest your forehead to his, the skin-to-skin contact rekindling the spark that burned so brightly not too long ago. “Eren.”

“I miss you,” he confesses. “Every fucking day.” 

His lips graze yours, eyes watching you, waiting. Unable to hold back any longer, you kiss him, melting into him seamlessly. The two years of remorse vanish in an instant, and you’re transported in time, as if you were never apart. You touch your palm on his chest, his racing heartbeat thumping against your fingertips. He slides his hand around the nape of your neck, cradling you gently, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft on yours, prudent and delicate, careful not to overbear you. 

You pull off to catch your breath, clutching at his t-shirt so that’s it’s bunched into your fist. “I missed you, Eren.”

He swallows loudly, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “I missed you so fucking much,” he mutters, driving his tongue inside your mouth, kissing you desperately now. He drinks you up like he’s dying of thirst, the only cure to his drought. You match him, opening wider, swirling your tongue with his. His lips trail to your neck, sucking on the pulse point beneath your chin.  

“Eren,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I love hearing you say my name. Fuck,” he swears, licking at the spot. He marks you on the other side, nibbling lightly at your skin with his teeth. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Every day,” you admit, eyes closed as he moves to your ear, pinching your lobe between his lips. “And you?”

“All the time,” he answers. He breaks away, cupping your cheek tenderly in his palm. “I’m still in love with you. I love you.”

Your breath hitches, throat tight with emotion, though you manage to utter, “I love you too.”

He beams at you before suggesting, “Should we get out of here? Go to my place?”

Tugging at his collar, you shake your head with a smirk. “I can’t wait that long.”

Understanding what you’re implying, he suggests, “Backseat?”

You give him a wet smooch and a nod. He chuckles, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Are you that needy for me, baby? Can’t even wait to go home?”

Glancing at his lap, the evident bulge protruding from his sweats, you scoff at him playfully. “Don’t act like you aren’t either. Look how big you are already.”

He grins, exiting the driver’s side and quickly sliding into the backseat, spreading his legs wide, hoisting his shirt off to reveal his chiseled torso. “You’re right. I’ve been waiting two years, please don’t make me wait any longer.”

You follow him to the rear, shrugging your blouse and pants off hastily until you’re down to your underwear. He marvels at your bare figure, licking his lips while you kneel beside him. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispers, scanning you up and down, almost in disbelief. “Would you think about me whenever you touched yourself?”

Nestled to his lap, ass sticking out, you nod, rubbing your face on the erection straining against the fabric. “I only thought about you, Eren.”

“Fuck,” he groans, mesmerized. He pets you, brushing his thumb across your cheeks. “Me too, sweetie. No one makes me come the way you do.” He lifts his hips to slide his bottoms and boxers down his legs, exposing his hard cock standing stiff and pretty, glistening with precum leaking from the tip. 

You’re salivating, spit coating your entire mouth, hungry for his cock. Without wasting another second, you swallow him, surrounding him in your wet heat until he hits the back of your throat. He bucks up slightly, thighs trembling beneath you. “Fuck,” he swears, trailing your spine, gliding to your ass. “Always so good to me.” He slips beneath your panties, teasing your entrance. “Can I fuck you with these fingers? Please?”

You nod with his cock in your mouth, slurping the drool trickling on his shaft, bobbing on him. He slides one in, then another, pumping them in and out of you as you moan around his dick. He wriggles inside you, stimulating your sweet spot, gushing on his digits with your first orgasm. His follows immediately after, his load spurting onto your tongue, guzzling every last drop of him. 

You release him, turning over so your head is resting on his lap, peering up at his face. His hand is between your legs, rubbing the soft plush of your thighs, smiling down at you. He teases your clit, flicking his wet fingers on it, causing you to whine. 

“You still like it when I play with you like this,” he purrs, watching you twitch from the pleasure. “My good girl always comes so much for me.” He caresses your forehead gently, toying with your swollen bud. “Can you give me another one, princess?” Too many times do you remember him pleasuring you, sitting in the passenger seat, you gripping to his wrist, directing his hand to your pussy. Tonight is no different; he’s just as relentless, tapping away at you until your creaming for him once more. 

“I need to fucking taste you,” he growls, slipping his fingers past his lips, licking them. “Sit up, sweetie. Ride me while you make me hard again.”

It’s clumsy maneuvering in the cramped space, but eventually, you get into position. He’s below you, slurping at your sopping pussy as you’re bent over his cock, licking the head as you stroke him off. The windows begin fogging up, the air sweltering and humid. Your knee digs uncomfortably into the cushion, the other hangs off the edge of the seat, foot planted to the floor. Eren manages to fit his impressive stature, one leg angled and stretched towards the driver’s side, the other laid across the backseat, enough space for you to blow him while you ride his face. 

“I missed this sloppy cunt,” he muffles, spreading his tongue on you. He spits, smearing his frothy saliva across your clit, puckered around it, sucking. 

Once he’s hard again, you beg, “Fuck me, Eren.” You’re close to another climax and you’re desperate to come with him in you this time. “Please.”

He laughs, lifting you off, his face glossy with your slick, covering his nose, mouth, and chin. “Whatever you want, princess.” He sits up against the seat, legs splayed like a throne for you to sit pretty on. You straddle his lap, rubbing your pussy on his cock before guiding it into your entrance. 

You both drawl out, “Fuck,” kissing messily, arms wrapped around each other in a snug embrace. You ride him feverishly as he fucks up into you, gripping onto your hips tightly, bouncing you on his dick. You’re both sweating immensely, the temperature in the car sweltering, but neither of you mind it, too concentrated on each other’s orgasms, too addicted to the high you’re chasing together. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so close,” he groans, picking up the pace, his thighs slapping lewdly against your ass.

“Come inside me, Eren. Fill me up,” you whimper, pushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. 

“Yeah? You want it? Take it then. Take it sweetheart.” His eyes are shut tight as he shoots his load, thick cock pulsing inside you. You ride out your orgasm with him, scattering delicate kisses on his face. He grins, gazing at you with a hazy expression. 

“What’s that look for?” you ask, booping his nose. 

“Nothing,” he replies, cheeks rounded into a bigger smile. He squeezes your face between his palms. “I’m just happy. So unbelievably happy right now.”

You place your hands over his, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”

You stay comfortably like this for a few minutes, Eren cracking the windows open to let out some steam. You joke, “So, are you still going to sell me this car?”

He chuckles. “How about I give it to you. I was going to anyways.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. It was supposed to be a peace offering. But I like this outcome way better.”

“Me too. But I’m not going to just take it from you. Let me pay you for it.”

He tips your chin to look at you, grinning wide. “How about you move in with me instead?”

“What?” you giggle, unable to contain your smile, thrilled by the suggestion.

“Move in with me,” he repeats, nuzzling his nose to yours. 

“Isn’t this is a little too soon, considering we just got back together?”

He stretches his arms out, relaxing into the seat, smirking at you. “We already wasted two years without each other, I’m not wasting any more time.”

“Don’t care. Get your ass up and put some clothes on. Fuck that nigga.”

Your best friend was dragging you out of your apartment to get out of it for once.

The reason you had been moping around was due to your current “boyfriend” Well ex now really. You guys were fighting like a married couple and when he mentioned a break, you accepted until you saw his story the night after. He was laid up with some other bitch. You texted him something along the lines of

I didn’t know we were seeing other people while on the break????

He didn't respond.

After a couple of days, he was laid up with another girl…

You had a mini heart attack and words could not explain the wave of emotions that hit you at that moment. The fact that he did that but it did make you realize how you both didn’t discuss seeing other people. With all this going on your bestie immediately came to scoop you up. Which is where you are now. Getting ready for a party you barely wanna go to.

20 minutes later

“Damnnnn! Girl you look super sexy!” She smacked your ass as you did a 360 for her. You laughed lightly. Your outfit was stunning and your makeup looked like a nice glam, not too much, not too little. You both headed out your home and to the party.

After a short car ride, you arrived at the packed house. Cars on every side of the street and all up in the driveway. It took a minute to find a parking spot, but you both managed to park at someone else’s house nearby.

While walking to the house you were a bit antsy, but you came here for a good time and not a long one obviously. Without knocking on the door, you and your best friend stepped inside. Loud music immediately filling your ears. People had red cups in their hands, smoking blunts, and just talking amongst themselves.

A smile grew on your face at the environment. The vibes you got from this party were very pure.

“Okayyy. um- I’m gonna get you a drink and then we will go from there.”

You nodded at her plan and followed her to the kitchen. The variety of alcohol you saw on the table was very broad. She made you a mix of some fruity drink and tequila and handed it to you. You knew you would either drink it all or barely drink any. There was no in between.

Not even five minutes after having your beverage you were being begged to go dance. You agreed anyway and discarded of your cup after one big sip.

She finally got you to the main dancing area and you did almost every dance move in the book. You and her were having a blast until Simon Says by Megan Thee Stallion started playing. That's when the liquor in your system started doing it's job.

You were throwing ass in the circle in no time, hands on your knees. You were being hyped up by everyone but then the hype got louder as someone got behind you, catching all of it. Slapping your moving ass and gripping your hips. You kept twerking on the mystery man until the song ended and you were lowkey out of breath.

"I'mma head to the bathroom. I have to piss and it's hot as fuck." You breathed out to your bestie again. She nodded in approval and you headed down the hall. There were quite a few people in the hall, there wasn't a line though. Just people talking, making out, and chilling.

The bathroom was gonna take a minute so you leaned on the wall, not minding the wait. While waiting a familiar voice pulled you out your phone.

“Damn ma, you got a ass on you don’t it?”

OF COURSE. ONYANKAPON!!

“So that was yo ass slapping my behind like it was a bug on my shit!?” You joked back, mouth wide open. He laughed with you, white teeth flashing a smile that would make you wetter than anything else. He had his arms folded, tattooed sleeves on display. You literally wanted to pounce on this man.

“Yea but how could I resist?”

“Didn’t know you were capable of coming out your house..?” You teased. Ony is a good friend of yours. Your favorite flirty friend. That was until your ex gave him a piece of his mind and they fell out, leaving you and him in a weird spot. But Ony knew how to keep shit pushing. That’s what you liked about him.

"Very funny, Y/n. Surprised your not here with what's his name? Uh-" he was snapping his fingers, trying to think of his name.

"Not too much." You cut him off.

“Besides, me and him not even fooling with each other right now.” You mumbled. Ony bit his lip. This nigga wasn’t even trying to hide it. He had be trying to get at you for so long, this was the perfect opportunity.

“Damn what happened?”

"He was up under this other bitch while we were on a break, which were still on." You folded your arms and rolled your eyes. He shook his head and laughed.

"What's funny?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm,I don't know. Isn't a break like… not being together?" He smirked. You forgot he can be a smart ass sometimes.

"Oh my godddd! Who's side are you on?" You whined. He took a step closer to you, his cologne filling your nose. God, was he more than attractive. Looking up at him he was smirking, like always.

"Well, you know what I think?" He said a little lower this time. You were intrigued now in his hidden advice.

"What?" You quickly asked.

"Get your lick back, mama." He tilted his head at you. Biting your lip at the idea of you and him, doing more than talking in this hallway. You gave him a look of approval and he took note of it.

✧. ┊    

“Mmm fuck Onyyy!” As soon as y’all got to the crib.. Ony started doing your shit IN. Making out while walking through the front door and clothes off by the time you got to the couch.

You were bent over the sofa, back arched perfectly for him to keep pounding into you from behind. Your ass vibrated with every thrust he gave you. Your legs were a shaking mess and it hadn’t even been that long.

“Mhmm baby, so good f’me,” his grip locked on your hips, keeping you under his grasp. He had you gripping on the cushions of the couch , wanting to bite on them. Ony was groaning deeply with each thrust too, your hole gripping him tight.

Your sounds got louder as he decided to pick up his pace. One of his hands gliding to the back of your neck.

“Hah- I can’tttt!” You started feeling him deeper with your back to his chest. Ony ignored your cries as he kissed on your neck and kept stroking. You put your free hand against his hip, trying to slow his pace.

“Uh uh, give it to me ma.” He took your hand, bending you right back over. Your stomach tightened, you were so close. You were trying so hard to hold it for him but your body was giving you away.

"You gon cum for me, huh?" Grunting, He pounded faster and harder. Tears welled up in your eyes as you nodded rapidly.

Ony sped up, even more, to catch his high along with yours. You let out a loud and long drawn-out moan as you came and felt Ony cum inside you. "Shit." He panted. His release came slowly pouring out once he pulled out of you.

“I hope you good, cause I’m not done pretty girl.” He smirked.

It was a good day to be on the pill tbh…

AHHHHH TYSM FOR READINGGG (if you made it this far..)

And a bigggg thank you to @dilfl0v3rss for encouraging this.

FEEDBACK IS VERY MUCH APPRECIATED

Reblog too 😓

your soft knees burn against the material of your lover’s murakami rug underneath you due to the continuous back and forth motion of his weight pushing against and off of you. you’re aware that a puddle of drool is devising beneath your cheek. you feel the cool dampness of it — god, it’s gross. it’s disgusting.

“o-on’ — god, i c-c,” you don’t think you’re able to breathe. your lips shape around the opening syllables of his name, though they’re unable to fully form due to the never ending compress and expand of your lungs trying to suck in as much oxygen as they can. “onya’!” you squeal out his name when he releases a rough huff while adjusting himself more fully over you, one foot flat on the floor, the other leg still bent as he kneels.

his cock is . . .

you’re sure that words won’t be able to fully and accurately describe it. each time you find yourself a little bit tipsy with your friends — a little bit tipsy and needy, you go on a spiel about how perfect he is.

“you said, and this is like, the most fucking exact quote ever,” ymir’s face had been smoothened over in her usual deadpan as she fluidly sliced up a banana for her habitual post workout smoothie. “ ‘god, he’s jus’ so pretty and he smells so good and his dick — should i? mm . .’ and you laughed like a fuckin’ maniac right here. ‘okay, okay i will, its . . it’s huge,’” she tossed the fruit in the blender while you buried your face in your palms while squealing and shaking your head. “don’t wanna hear it anymore? cool. i didn’t wanna fucking repeat it.”

it is huge.

and it’s heavy. you practically feel the weight of it cumbering down inside of your squelching, chubby pussy — working and pushing right up against the spongy nub of your g spot.

you hate that he’s so . . angry. you feel how hard his large, soft hands grip your waist. usually, they touch you so delicately. they wipe your tears, fix a braid out of place, carefully adjust a shirt’s strap. they don’t spank you this hard and snatch you back into place when your body begins to slip.

onyankopon’s known for having a bit of a dark side, everyone on campus is aware.

what everyone sees at parties and lectures and quads is what they get. he’s quiet — doesn’t speak unless spoken to and keeps his opinions to himself. he’ll lounge on a bench with his friends, fists shoved in his billionaire boy’s labeled hoodie, legs spread wide agape to accommodate you upon his lap and he’d just . . . listen. rarely would he offer a laugh or comment — the most is a wide, handsome grin displaying all of his pretty, white teeth ( a glistening gold cap covering the bottom row at social events ) or a slight scoff at the mention of something irritable.

the country’s beloved, college quarterback star only fetes his hidden rage and anger on the field. opposing teams are the target of such . . and sometimes his own mates.

you’ve only had a first hand witness to such after meeting him following a losing game outside of the locker room, still dressed in your cheer uniform. you heard him yell for the first time, loud and livid . . his smooth voice echoing off porcelain walls and cold steel.

it had made you jump and recoil . . flinch back when he came walking out the doors, last of course, and automatically reach for you for comfort.

you hadn’t mean to, not at all, but would he shout at you like that, too?

ony didn’t appreciate that.

from then on, you were to meet him at his car . . a sleek, black on black hellcat, passenger seat decorated with your own pink trimmed cover and sewn in name.

this leaves you both here . . today.

you had ace’d an exam, received a more than beautiful check for your hours in working at the campus’ library along with a few tutoring sessions on the side, you were happy.

albeit, walking through his frat house’s doors and greeting ony who’d only given you a swift look up and down from the cute, gyaru - like beach wedges on your feet, the tiny, denim flared skirt on your hips, and gingham patterned crop top adorned upon your chest, you knew he was upset.

“what — hnnggg, please — w-what’d i do?” you drag out the last word through a slurred whine when he swats a specific slap against the back of your soft thighs. not even your ass . . he wants you to feel this shit tomorrow.

his breaths are hard. you can’t see him but you know his eyes, dark and drilling, are staring directly into the back of your head. “don’t play fuckin’ stupid, ( ❤︎ ),” he grits out quietly. “please don’t.”

he takes hold of the globes of your ass, spreading them far apart, making sure you feel the cool air glide over your holes. it feels colder than usual because you’re so wet. “ ‘s my fuckin’ pussy, yeah?” he pants out. “shit, ‘s supposed to be . . . givin’ my shit out — y’got me lookin’ like a fuckin’ bitch out here, man, look—“ his own words seem to ignite the roaring flames of his anger.

you squeak when he reaches down to grab you by the front of your throat, squeezing it just hard enough for you to gasp on your next inhale.

an inkling of fear plants itself within the pit of your stomach. what does he mean? what is he talking about? “ ‘m not.” tears paint your face, sticky and warm. your make up is ruined. no fair. you were so excited for the beach date you planned for the both of you . . you’d even picked out fat, ripened strawberries and dipped them in chocolate to harden the night before yourself. you even got a heart shaped pizza customized with his favorite toppings to shape out the both of your initials on it! “ ‘m not, i swe—“ you hiccup. “—ar . . ‘s yours, daddy. m’pussy’s all yours, i p-promise.”

ony thinks you talk a big game. you sound so genuine. how do you do that?

he’ll buy into it, “yeah,” he licks his lips, bending you further back, deepening that arch until it looks somewhat painful and he tilts himself forward.

he makes you look at him like that, from upside down and he admires the tears that shine across your cheeks, dusted with a mauvey blush. he huffs a scoff at the sight of your drool laminated chin and your shuddering body. “yeah, i bet,” he murmurs. “good girl ( ❤︎ ) . . fuckin’ cheerleader . . top ten on the dean’s list . . . gettin’ over and fuckin’ playing paradis university’s star quarterback ony asare,” his thrusts have slowed. he tilts his head, face a calculated blank, “think i don’t know what typa’ shit you tryna’ play with me, lil’ girl?”

you wish you could take a peek inside of his brain — finally get an understanding as to what he was talking about. “ ‘m not playing you, ony,” you realize now that the tears on your face were not only a cause of overbearing pleasure, but pain as well. you can hear it in ony’s voice how much he’s hurting and you hate that he won’t allow you to fix it. “w-what did i do?”

ony has stopped moving. he keeps your face in his hands and you see a muscle in his jaw tick as he tries to keep from speaking.

“nah,” he murmurs.

you sniffle, soft lips pouted, “talk to me, pa’.”

“no.” he lets you go and you fall forward, quietly catching your breath.

“yes.”

“you know what the fuck you did.”

“how do i know if i keep asking you?” you give a soft, little whine, making a move to pull yourself off of his dick to face him but he keeps you where you are with a firm smack to your ass.

“i saw you with my own two eyes smilin’ in your ex’s face . . i saw you invite that nigga into your apartment.”

god.

you knew that decision would come back to bite you in the ass. you bow your head, eyes closed. “ony . .—“

“—if i catch you in a lie, i’m done with you. you hear me?” abruptly, his voice doesn’t carry that edge anymore. he’s quiet and soft . . he nearly sounds like your ony again, which queues you in on the realization that he’s telling the truth. “gon’ be y’last time with me . . near me . . touching me. and i put that on everything i love.”

“ony, we didn’t do anything,” you turn your head over your shoulder to gaze into his eyes, making sure he read how genuine you were.

ony’s been the only person to recognize your tale ticks. you both know this.

“i found a box of his things buried in my closet that he never picked up, i swear,” your voice is a meek little thing . . broken and weary. “i dunno, to give you peace of mind, ymir was even home that day. i know you both share your own bond and we both know that she wouldn’t lie, not even for me. we didn’t do anything. he picked up the box and left . . wasn’t even in my apartment for three minutes.”

ony licks his lips, looking away from you for a few seconds. when he begins to slowly shake his head, you crumble.

your heart feels like it’s disintegrating within your chest as you go to speak, breath gone, “p-please, i would n-never do that to you,” you weep and go to pull off again but he keeps you still, once again. “onya, please.”

“lemme think, man. relax,” he places a palm at your lower back, right between the piercings that puncture the deep dimples at the base of it. he needs you quiet for a moment.

he saw that three days ago. while on the way to surprise you with your favorite food and that new marc jacobs tote you’ve had in your wishlist just because, he saw a familiar head of black curls and knew who the person had been.

your fuckin’ ex.

you and ony have been together for about twelve months. you dated jonah your freshman year of uni and the both of you hadn’t even lasted more than six, however the shit he did to you during the time was foul.

ony doesn’t like him. not one fucking bit. the only thing keeping him from sending a punch hard enough into the fucker’s face to knock him into a coma is his scholarship and, above all, you.

so, to see you open your door for him . . clearly willingly, dressed in that tiny ass, cute nightgown, give him a smile . . and step aside to allow him entry into your home had made ony feel a rage unorthodox to earth’s atmosphere. he felt sick to his fucking stomach.

wanted to block your number and socials then and there though could never get himself to do it. you were so excited for your date today, blew up his messages with your precious emoticons and exclamation marks that same night like nothing ever happened.

still, above all, you were telling the truth. ony can tell . . he feels it radiating off of you. your sweetness and how good you are, it’s palpable. regardless, you were right, too. if he still even felt a seed of doubt, he can ask ymir. the most blunt person the both of you knew — doesn’t hold shit back for anybody, best friend or not.

“. . . cross your fuckin’ heart,” he murmurs, side eyeing your pretty face face, foliated with woe and sorrow.

“i swear it to the stars.”

god, he feels so stupid now.

he rubs a hand across his tapered waves, bitter embarrassment slowly spreading across his chest similar to a crack in an icicle.

fuck it.

he suddenly presses you back where you were, hearing your little squeal of shock. “was gon’ have me transfer to another school and shit,” he huffs, jaw clenching once more at the thought. “would’ve had me cryin’ like a fuckin’ wimp . . you scared me, mama . . fuck.”

he can’t imagine losing you. ever.

“ ‘m s-sorry,” your toes coil tight within your wedges as he resumes that same brutal pace. you think his thrusts are hitting even harder now that he’s finally gotten a quiet mind for the first time in days. “s-should’ve never . .” you can’t get your words out but ony knows what you’re going to say.

he licks his thick, soft lips, pinning the bottom one beneath his top row of teeth, “should’ve never let that fed into your apartment . . should’ve took that box and burnt up all his shit, mhm . . i know.”

yeah.

he gets it.

you melt underneath him, successfully opening up your pussy even more, letting him batter it senseless. you feel yourself weakly gushing out your juices, feel a few droplets racing down your inner thighs to your knees, feel it packing into a paste at the foundation of his thick cock.

“unh, shit,” ony lets his head fall back at how perfect it all feels. “f-u—uuck . . gimmie this shit. take it, mhm, take it.”

your hips start to move. not back and forth but in smooth circular motions. ony watches how your fat, soft ass cheeks bounce off of his sculpted abdomen, how the skin ripples and pleats akin to hard ocean waves the stronger he fucks you.

to simply imagine another person in his place . . .

ony feels a murderous fervor burn inside of his chest. no longer opting to hold his tee out of the way, he pulls it up to bite down on the bottom and hold you more by the sides of your torso. his rhythm slows but he digs in deeper.

the steady smack . . smack . . smack sound of your skin meeting drives your brain into an empty void. “ohhh . . shit,” you moan out, honing in on the sensation of his balls, heavy yet firm, slapping against the throbbing bulb of your hard clit. “don’t s-st . . god, ony’ you’re,” you shiver, burying your face inside of your arms. you feel out of body. you can’t finish your sentence, he hears you begin to cry — all broken and full of mindless babbles and he smiles around his shirt.

“there we go,” he murmurs. “i’m diggin’ this shit out, mm? . . tell me how it feels, beautiful.”

your soft voice is but a quite whimper when you give a ‘ so good. ‘

ony reaches behind him for the neck of his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side, prior to pulling out and swiftly turning you over onto your back.

the position change is so sudden. you blink, watching the world oscillate until you focus on him. you watch him lean down before he kisses you . . soft and slow as his hands part your legs open at the thighs. “put it in for me,” his low voice murmurs against your glossed lips. immediately, you comply, reaching between you both for his dick.

it throbs in your little hand, hard and wet with your slick. you tap his fat mushroom tip on your entry before letting it slip inside, mouth dropping at the instantaneous feeling of pleasure of his shaft splitting you wide open. the both of you groan out your little sighs, not bothering to separate your lips an inch. you can’t explain how happy you feel — with him, underneath him, touching him. “i l-love you,” you mewl when he’s dropping his dick in and out of your soppy center. “o-only you, pa’ . . i mean it.”

he nestles his face in your neck, breathing in a deep inhale. you smell like vanilla and jasmine. “love you . . m-maybe too fuckin’ much,” he admits quietly into the skin there. ony can’t help it. you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

he feels your cunt clenching down tighter and tighter, it only spurs on his own release, allowing his body to tense more and more. “hold it,” he breathes, pressing the pads of his fingers into your skin tighter. “hold that shit, baby . . wait.”

“i can’t,” you’re gasping while your nails prick against the rippling muscles of his back, splitting smooth, dark brown skin and revealing oozing plasma. you feel the muscles in your legs spasming. you know it’s going to hit you hard. “oh my god.”

ony starts to maneuver his hips, pivoting them with each inwards thrust, letting himself get lost in the feel of your ribbed walls, soft, gushy, and tight, massaging his dick, almost deliberately trying their best to work his nut free. “you f-fuckin’ dangerous, man,” he whimpers out your name, heavy hands grasping for the soft cheeks of your ass to begin to lift your hips and make you meet him halfway. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna . .”

“metoometoometoo.”

the both of you work desperately — recognizing that you’re both on the edge of something phenomenal. “cum in me,” he hears your pretty voice gasp in his ear. “please, daddy . . c’mon. gimmie it.”

dangerous isn’t the word, it doesn’t even cover half of what you are.

ony feels his toes curl and his muscles tense. his eyes snap tightly shut. “gotdamn,” he feels it. “. . . fuck!”

you cum when he does, legs escaping his hands to wrap tightly around his waist. you hold his hips in with your thighs, keeping him still. stars dance behind your eyelids as you hear your release audibly pour out of you and down the seam of your ass. you feel ony’s cock pulsing as he pushes out shot after shot of thick, warm cum, letting it all gather in that tiny crevice behind your cervix.

“s-shit, baby, wait,” ony’s hands are gripping at you. it’s as though he’s trying to pull you closer and peel you away.

your voice is dazed as you reach for his handsome face, rubbing your thumb softly across his bearded jaw, “shh, jus’ feel it, pa’ . . don’t i feel good?”

he fights it for about a second more.

he’s never came inside of you before . . inside of anybody.

but fuck, he feels you working it out of him, clenching and releasing. he feels how good it is.

he lets himself relax.

“. . h-have to buy y’lil ass a plan b now,” he groans, feeling the beginning factors of sleep begin to pull his eyes low. how immediate it is scares him. you fucking scare him. ony lets his body relax on top of yours, on the floor.

the way you rub his back is comforting. he can feel your heart thudding hard within the cage of your ribs. he’s sure the beat of it matches his own. “mhm,” you quip quietly. “. . our date?”

he groans, pecking a soft kiss underneath your jaw, “let’s take a nap, mm? a lil one . . gimmie thirty minutes.”

it takes over ten minutes for you to lift the both of you up off of the floor, complaining about how ‘gross’ it’d be for you guys to doze off there but you make it for his bed, collapsing down with your body on top of his now. your eyes are closed and your breathing is calm when you feel him kiss the crown of your head, “sorry for . . accusing you and shit,” at the sound of how bashful he sounds, it makes you want to smile. “wasn't cool. i gotta work on that.”

“you do,” you pout and lift your head to look up at him. “wasn’t nice.”

he licks his lips, eyes closed, smirking a bit, “y’got me outta’ character . .” at only the simple thought of his demeanor an hour ago, it all makes him want to shun himself away to spare the humiliation. “i don’t do all’lat.”

your responding giggle is precious, “you don’t do all’lat?”

“nah.”

“coulda fooled me.”

ony lifts his arm up high, eyes still closed, before letting it fall with little to no finesse, so that his hand can crack down onto your ass with a thundering smack!

you yelp out a high, whiny, “ony!”

“ ‘m sleeping. shh.”

“Thank you, Atlanta! You know I fucking love you guys and I appreciate all the love you show me…” nearing the conclusion of his two hour set, the artist began to give him obligatory speech, thanking all of his loyal supporters and everyone who turned out tonight. From the insane songs that triggered two huge mosh pits to the slower joints that had brought forth the baddest bitches in the crowd..serenaded underneath dimmed lights as he strummed the guitar and sang to them. It was an entire vibe and like all of his shows, he never wanted it to end. But alas, it was getting later into the night and he was becoming jaded. However, he couldn’t leave his loyal fans without something special!

“This next song…this next song is one that’s very near to my heart..just like the person I wrote it for. They can’t be here tonight but I hope wherever they are..they hear it.”

upon taking a seat on his stool, a stage hand came out and handed Eren his electric guitar..a jet black Fender with chrome and red accents and hand painted roses; named Carla after his mom who gifted it to him on his twenty first birthday. It’s the most precious thing he’s ever received and now he was about, he was about to play a ballad to the most precious person in his life right now. Propping the instrument up on his knee, he’d take the pick that was pursed between his lips and begin to strum slowly..tattooed digits tapping at the E Minor and D strings, creating a soft yet high pitched tune. It was something that he didn’t normally do during his performances but there was a first time for everything. As he began to sing, accompanied by the instrumentals and backtracks, sounding out across the packed arena, he began to croon out the words to a track he titled ‘Everything’, in which he pours out his heart, how that person meant everything to him and everything that he loved about them. It was so beautiful, authentic and yet…maintained bits of signature rap style. The crowd was cheering; ladies fawning from the front row, men nodding their head and everyone was enjoying themselves. The one person he needed there however…was nowhere to be found. The person who inspired it and who burst into tears when he first played it. That person…was you. His precious (y/n). A girl adorned by many and the object of desire for for thousands of men. Captivating the world with your flawless pole skills and ethereal beauty. A one of a kind woman, as rare and priceless as any jewel. You were truly his everything.

but sadly, it could only be confessed in the form of this song, as he was certain you were somewhere in the arms of another guy. Laid up in bed, carrying on a loveless relationship with someone who didn’t see your worth. He hated it. He hated that he couldn’t be the one holding you right now and making all those doubts and insecurities disappear…he even recalled the last time he spoke to you. A little over three weeks ago…as he sat begging and pleading for you to be with him instead.

FLASHBACK

“I don’t get it, (y/n). Why the fuck do you even stick around? It doesn’t make sense..”

“I wish I could tell you why…but I can’t. I guess I’m just scared.”

“Scared of what?! Because if he’s putting his hands on you, I’ll splatter his brains as soon as he comes through that door.”

it was a conversation you’d never expect to have but an inevitable one nonetheless. It was going to come to this eventually…after all, you were sitting at the kitchen counter of your high rise condo, sobbing your eyes out and picking up pieces of shattered glass from a broken vase, slammed to the ground by your no good, sorry ass, abusive, cheater of a boyfriend. Why a woman as beautiful as you would ever think to stick around and put up with such bullshit, was beyond anyone. Including the man standing in front of you. The one who would wipe tears from that pretty face all the time..who had watched you cry as he held you.

“Look, (y/n). I can’t tell you what to do but I’ll be damned if I sit here and let you get treated like this. You deserve better than whatever the fuck he’s doing. Why won’t you just leave?!”

something far easier said than done..truth was, being in a relationship with a high powered executive while trying to make it up the ladder in the entertainment industry was not for the weak. And trying to break away was a whole lot harder!..the repercussions you could face; not only would he have you blackballed from every event or potential job you’d ever think to have but he’d have everyone turning on you. It’d be career suicide! Howvever, Eren didn’t care. He didn’t give a damn what that piece of shit thought he was capable of…he only cared about your well-being and watching you cover up your sadness with sips of liquor was driving him insane. He loved you and wanted to protect you with his life. He wanted to wake up every day next to you, smiling as he saw you in your most pure form; no makeup and all that natural beauty and make love to you every single night. He wanted to be the one who’s name you cried out as you clawed his back and begged him to go deeper. He couldn’t stand this..stepping closer, Eren cupped the sides of your face, tilting it upward so that you could see him. See him in all the vulnerability he had to offer.

“Listen..I just want you to be happy. Fuck all that other noise. Just leave with me and we’ll figure i—“

“Stop it, Eren, I can’t put you in this mess. He’ll ruin everything you worked hard for and that’s not fair. I’m not worth it!”

hearing those words nearly shattered his heart into a million pieces. Never had he felt the way he had about anyone in his young twenty five years the way he did about you. No one made his heart flutter and his soul feel complete the way you did and he couldn’t let you think anything less of yourself than what you were..

“..baby, don’t you realize I’m already in? I’m not going anywhere, even if you push me away right now. You mean more to me than any of this. I don’t care if I ever touch a Grammy, an awards show or any of that shit. You’re all I want. Please..”

and in that moment, you could do nothing more than helplessly fall into his arms. Stuffing your tear ridden face into the comfort of his chest and that black tee he was sporting and as always, he was right there to hold you close and coddle you in his grasp.

“Eren…”

PRESENT

so as he strummed those notes, singing out with all that he harbored..lights from illuminated cell phones swaying back and forth..

“And if you let me, I’ll be your everything..”

he hoped that somewhere, somehow..you could hear it. Not just with your ears but your heart and truly feel the message. That it would motivate you to finally go where you belonged. With him.

You did it. Your first semester of college was officially over.

Actually, it ended roughly two weeks ago when your final grades were uploaded. Now, you were smack in the middle of winter break, left with no responsibilities other than lounging before your family’s fireplace. 

You were grateful, and it wasn’t just from the holiday spirit. You were overjoyed—and not to mention, relieved beyond belief—because college was everything you hoped it to be. It wasn’t exactly like the movies, of course, but it was damn near close. You got along well with your roommate, and for once in your life, your professors didn’t hold their grudges toward your brother against you because they didn’t have any.

And it just so happened that you were seeing someone. Something casual, no big deal.

You meant that earnestly. The guy wasn’t much to write home about, and he definitely wasn’t the one. He was just… there. 

It was fun, though! It had to be, or else you wouldn’t keep going back to him. You felt a connection right away—it was why you slept with him in the first place—but after your semi-regular hookups, it just sort of fizzled. It was fine. He was fine. 

Anyway, he hadn’t tried to reach out since you left, even once. You wanted it to hurt only because it felt like it should, but you couldn’t find it in you. Talking to him sounded less than appealing, if you were being honest. You much preferred to spend the better half of your days catnapping around a house much warmer than your dorm. The only person you bestowed your precious attention on was Hitch, your grade school bestie who was also visiting home. But that was about to change. 

After breakfast, your brother Collin came knocking at your bedroom door, creaking it open with just his knuckles. 

You peered up from your phone when he asked, “Got any plans later?”

“No,” you replied. He was giving you this weird look. Then he closed the door. “What’s the about?”

“I’m going to a party tonight. Wanna come?”

You looked from side to side because he had to be talking to someone else.

“Don’t be dumb.” He leaned against the wall like he planned to be there for a minute. “You’re old enough now. I’m sure you’ve gone to plenty at school, anyway.” 

You weren’t buying into the whole brotherly love schtick. You deadpanned, “Mom and Dad said you have to bring me wherever you’re going, right?” 

Collin’s shoulders slumped in that ‘you caught me’ sort of way. “I told them it was an ugly sweater party as a cover-up, and they bought it a little too well—said I have to take you if I want to go. They’re worried about you, all cooped up inside and—”

“Okay, I get it!” You didn’t need to hear that your parents thought you were a loser. There was nothing wrong with wanting some peace and quiet during your vacation. 

To really sell the lie, you needed ugly sweaters. Neither of you had thought that far ahead, and you had to go thrifting after your parents began pestering you about it. On the drive to the store, you told Collin he had to pay for yours since he forced you out, and he spent the ride home complaining that he should have simply snuck out and saved the money. 

“But then you’d have to cover for me, and I’d have to see your sad, lost-puppy eyes as you stayed in for another night,” he jested. You thumped his forehead. 

Hours later, the two of you were back in the same seats. Collin parked the car, and the overhead light cut through the pitch-black neighborhood. He unbuckled, then immediately yanked his knit sweater over his forehead.

“I’m not planning on coming home tonight obviously. I’m staying at Jean’s. What about you?”

“Hitch’s,” you answered, peeling off your own sweater and throwing it into the backseat. “She didn’t want to come, but she offered to give me a ride to her place to stay the night. I doubt I’ll stay long.” 

You stepped out of the car together. The doors slammed shut, and the sound echoed off the houses. 

“Sounds good. Just be sure to let me know when you leave,” he said. 

Collin parked a block or so away. On the walk, you started to overthink things. If Jean would be there, would Eren be there, too? You wanted to say it had been a while since you last thought of him, but that would be another lie you’d have to tally for the night. 

“So,” you drawled.  “Is Jean going to be here?”

Collin snorted. “Duh. It’s his house.”

He didn’t mention that earlier. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. Past your stomach, like it had splat on the pavement. 

As fate would have it, you did see him at the party. Eren. Not immediately, but it might as well have been.

You had only drunk roughly three-quarters of a beer when you saw Eren, and it wasn’t nearly enough to dull the weird twirly feeling pitting in your stomach. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but it was a confusing one, that was for sure.

It wasn’t that you regretted what you had done, not in the slightest, but that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to see him. How couldn’t you be? This was the first time you’d been in the same room since you had naively bared it all for him, looking about as pathetic in bed as a newborn faun taking its first steps.  

At the very least, you expected to see Eren the morning after—you actually dreaded it. You stayed in your bed, laid on pins and needles, staring at your ceiling until you could no longer. And even then, the basement remained silent.

They eventually emerged from their hibernations once the afternoon rolled around. Eren was nowhere to be found, as if he was suddenly the earlier riser of the group. You supposed it was less awkward this way. 

In that emotional cauldron you were brewing, the one that was close to boiling over, you felt a dash of jealousy. It was strange and unexpected, but now that you saw Eren cozied up with some girl, her legs draped over his lap… the feeling was certainly there. 

You hated it. Especially after your eyes lingered for too long, resulting in very brief, very fleeting eye contact between you. It was over and done with so fast that you didn’t even get a good look at his face. Was he surprised? Indifferent? It was only a guess at this point. But you—well, you made it entirely clear that you were avoiding him, what with the speedy way you spun on your heels to flee. It was a dead giveaway as to how you were feeling, whatever it was. 

You tossed back the rest of your beer, then went scouring for what was next. Your best bet was what appeared to be a thrown-together hot chocolate bar. Not the best option but certainly not the worst. The slow cooker, still halfway full, sat warming on the counter. Surrounding it were loose bottles of cream liquors and peppermint schnapps, torn-open bags of marshmallows, and whipped cream if you were feeling fancy. Very on-theme for tonight’s holiday party. 

In an attempt to look busy—keep your gaze low, hands moving—you headed that direction. 

You fiddled with a stack of styrofoam cups and pretended you weren’t overwhelmingly flustered by this unbeknownst feeling. You didn’t do a great job at it. Or at least, Eren didn’t think so. And unlike you, he had already come to terms with his feelings, but only because it had hit him more or less like a freight train. 

So let’s go ahead and recap what the last semester was like for Eren, shall we?

Becoming a third-year freed Eren from the required dormitories and roommates. He spent the tail end of his summer moving into an off-campus apartment. It wasn’t much—exactly what one would imagine when asked to envision an apartment with a down payment suited for a student’s budget. One-bedroom, one-bathroom, but it was all to himself. 

No different than any other twenty-something, Eren was excited to be on his own. He could see it already: no one to answer to, no one to schedule his life around. And definitely no weird-ass habits he’d have to deal with from a roommate—one he, to this day, couldn’t believe he matched with based on the school’s dumb quiz. He just had to wait out the summer until his lease began, and then his life would officially start.

The vision derailed, of course, just two weeks before he was handed the keys to his (self-proclaimed) bachelor pad. The reason? It was easy enough to guess.

Eren could deny it as much as he wanted, but it wouldn’t change that after fantasizing about his friend’s little sister for days, he selfishly prioritized his needs over his friendship and took her virginity. And in a cruel turn of events, he wound up with feelings for her. It seemed a bit like karma, didn’t it? 

From the very second his eyes snapped open the next morning, he convinced himself it was nothing more than a hot dream—albeit one that left him rattled. But when he ambled upstairs, he found his half-drunk glass of water, untouched, exactly where he recalled leaving it. 

Days passed, and Eren waited for that dreadful pang of remorse to smack him upside the head for what he had done—what the two of you chose to do together. It never came. Somehow, that felt so much worse.

Now, he had a secret large enough that if it came to light, he’d end up with a black eye from his best friend. Not that it wouldn’t be well-deserved. Even he could acknowledge that. But he was far from guilt-ridden over it. The only thing he regretted was that he hadn’t spoken to you since. He never talked to you much to begin with—he didn’t even have your phone number—so it’d be weird of him to start now, right?

Eren didn’t know what was the right thing to do, so he defaulted to doing nothing. It didn’t feel like there was any right option, like he had already made too many wrongs to turn back now. 

His worst offense? To him, it was that he still thought of you when he was, for lack of better words, alone. But that was the only time!

That was how he justified it: he’d only allow his memories of you, though painfully limited, to seep to the forefront then and only then. It was a half-assed boundary at most, Eren knew as much, and it was so wrong of him. You trusted him, you told him that yourself, and here he was, shamefully fucking his fist to nothing more than a mirage because that was all you had left him.

He’d think of your sweet sounds. Those little, fluttering breaths would escape you as a shiver no matter where he touched you. Sensitive and soft and warm beneath his palms, he’d replay the moment you first tried to take him on your own. Lowering yourself onto him, Eren could see you shifting your hips as you learned how to take him, all of him, best. Past lulled and heavy eyelids, you were intent on getting yourself off, no matter what it took. And when you got there—fuck, he wished he could see it again. He wanted to feel it again, something his hand could never replicate. 

After, you never went away. That was when Eren knew he was in trouble. When you were no longer a perverted fantasy but still at his side when he’d close his eyes. No longer fucking but basking in the afterglow of it together. Your arm slung around his waist, your balmy cheek resting against his chest. Tangled sheets, kisses pressed to your forehead, bodies sheened and sticky with sweat—all of it. 

This went much deeper than merely offering a helping hand to someone in need before she left for college. Eren did the favor of scratching your back, but what you didn’t realize was that you had scratched his, too. The one itch he couldn’t reach. He still bore the scars of it. 

You had him in a chokehold, and you didn’t even know it. A very, very complicated chokehold at that. Eren couldn’t believe he had caught feelings for you, his best friend’s little sister! But now he was peeking at—no, who was he kidding? He was religiously checking your Instagram stories.

By the look of it, there was finally some action in that love life of yours. You were never explicit about it, sharing no more than a picture of his hand on your thigh or a strategically-snapped photo of your cocktail with the mystery man’s face reduced to a background blur. The subtle art of a soft launch. It told Eren enough. 

So when he noticed how your eyes sprung to the size of saucers when you saw him across the party, he was intrigued. Eren didn’t know when he’d bump into you next, but he often wondered how you’d react. And when you scurried off like a mouse, excitement sparked within him, even if it was at your expense. He needed to know then if you still thought about him—what he did to you, and you to him—despite being with someone else. 

He quickly decided there wasn’t any harm in approaching you to say—

“Hey.”

Eren interrupted you just as you attempted to serve yourself hot cocoa. You nearly dropped the ladle when you heard his voice over your shoulder.

You faltered as you piped back a ‘hi’ but smiled through it only because you realized he came looking for you. 

“Need some help?” He offered you a smile laced with pity. You followed his eyes to find yourself pouring hot chocolate onto your wrist. You didn’t feel the string of it until then.

You cursed but thanked him when he took your cup. Since it was apparent you needed his help, Eren started making your drink as you searched for some paper towels.

“What alcohol didya want?”

“I didn’t think that far ahead,” you admitted, nodding toward cocoa-coated hands. “Clearly.”

His mouth curled up at that but nothing more. He didn’t leave any time for your embarrassment to simmer before he replied, “Then I’ll fix you what I made myself.

By the time you were dry and the remnants of your mess were forgotten in the trash can, Eren had mixed your drink and extended it to you. You thanked him for it and took a sip. It was sweet on the tip of your tongue, enough to comfort the burn of liquor that tickled from your throat and down your stomach. 

You smiled at him, the kind that made your eyes crinkle. “Cream and peppermint liquor. Good choice.”

“I thought so,” Eren beamed briefly before adding, “Oh—almost forgot.”

He reached for the can of whipped cream, locking his eyes to yours as he angled the nozzle toward your face.

“Open up.”

His smirk was like a wordless language that only you understood. He told you he remembered it—in fact, he even still thought about it—and he wanted to know if you did, too.

You opened your mouth. 

A laugh bubbled through you before the cream even met your tongue. Eren’s laugh joined yours when half made it into your mouth. The rest landed on the corner of your lips, daring to spill down your chin. After you thumbed it into your mouth, Eren surprised you by dotting your nose with it, too. 

You weren’t stupid; you knew how this looked because it was exactly as it appeared. The action toed the border between playfulness and something more—something that wasn’t entirely uncharted, given your history, but just as forbidden. You would have cared more if anyone was paying you any mind. And if someone important—Collin, Jean… hopefully the list ended there—were to see, you were convinced you could wisely play it off as a joke. 

You never expected your next run-in with Eren to go like this. You hoped for it, the shameless flirting, but it was more likely that he’d avoid you like the plague. You convinced yourself of it. You moved on from that ephemeral night, began to see other people, and let your dead-end crush fade away. 

No, you didn’t expect this at all. And even if you had, you wouldn’t have imagined it quite like this, with every fiber of your being tightened and set ablaze. And when you laid a hand on Eren’s arm, catching yourself in a fit of giggles, it tightened in reflex, like he felt the burning, too. 

You hurdled through the pleasantries even though they weren’t necessary, considering Eren had sex with you off little more than a single conversation last time. In an act of modesty, you were sure, he didn’t directly ask if you were single but instead teased you about Fabio again—asked if you had met anyone that compared. 

You hadn’t. The guy you were ‘dating’ was far from your dream man, even to the extent that you had already considered how you’d end it when—if you ever heard from him again. 

But Eren didn’t need to know that. You rolled your eyes at the lame joke, offhandedly saying, “I’m sort of seeing someone.”

It piqued his interest, discernible by his raised brow. Either that, or he saw right through you. He leaned into you, close. You wanted to check if Collin was near, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

“Oh, yeah?” He tilted his head and repeated, “‘Sort of.’ What does that mean?”

You sensed he wanted you to spell it out for him, the dirty details of it, but you hummed, “You know, hookups, the occasional dinner—not exclusive.” 

Whether or not he detected the hint at the end, your answer didn’t seem to suffice. “Is that what you want?”

You swirled your drink, took another sip, and suppressed your shiver. “I’m still figuring out what I want.”

The next thing you knew, Eren had snuck you upstairs. For obvious reasons, you had never been to Jean’s house; you had not a clue whose bedroom Eren had chosen for the two of you. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t distinguish much under the tawny lights strung around the room, but that was far from your first priority. What mattered more was that no one saw you slip away with Eren. It was no big deal that you were about to have sex with your brother’s best friend on their other best friend’s bed, right? 

Fuck it. Quite literally.

You shoved the thought to the back of your head much like the way Eren shoved you against the door as he kissed you. He kept one hand cupped around your face and used his other to lock the door behind you. The moment the click of it hit your ears, he pushed a hand between your legs. 

You weren’t going to talk about it, the rather large elephant lurking in the room. That Eren offered to take your virginity much like a business proposition, and you agreed to sex that was supposed to feel just as transactional. But the reality of it was that you hadn’t stopped thinking about that night ever since. Neither of you had, so you’d go on and pretend like it never ended. 

He palmed over the crotch of your jeans, teasing you before reaching for their button. You indirectly made him work for him, keeping him close with your arms looped around his neck—close enough that your noses were smushed together.

Eren struggled with the zipper next, less focused on it and more distracted by your teeth, gently tugging on his bottom lip. He groaned, and it spilled into your mouth like honey.

You broke the kiss, hands flinging to your sides to slip from your jeans. You bent at the waist, eyes fixed up at Eren, as you wiggled them down your legs. Noting the deep rise and fall of his shoulders, you felt a similar stutter in your own. 

He confessed he didn’t have a condom. You told him you were on birth control now, and that was enough for you both to continue—so long as he pulled out, you reminded. He agreed by hooking your leg around his waist. You swung the other to match, locking your ankles against his lower back, and let him carry you to the bed. 

Eren navigated to the bed with suspicious ease. He walked backward, lips still on yours, like he knew the room’s layout and where the bed was. You wanted to wince at the realization—that the likelihood this bedroom belonged to Jean had skyrocketed—but you forgot it just as fast when Eren sat on the edge of the mattress, pulling you down with him.

You straddled his lap with hands on either side of his face, your tongue in his mouth and against his own. He still tasted like peppermint schnapps. Burned like it, too.

He rucked up your shirt as his hands smoothed along your back. You’d think his fingers were made of matches, scorching trails whenever they roamed. You gasped when he dared low enough to grab your ass, pinching at the fat of it. Your thin underwear bunched in his grasp, dragging along your skin with him. 

Eren pinned you to him, working you over the front of his jeans. Back and forth, your hips on a swivel, he used you to get himself hard, only stopping to smear his palms on his jeans when you’d start to slip from his grasp. It didn’t take long before you felt him, stiff and nicely pressed between your legs. 

When you started to grind against him, demandingly and all on your own, the kiss went sloppy. Though the plush of your lips brushed together, it was less like making out and more like swapping breaths. Like a warm fog swirling around you, you grew dizzy off it. Eventually, one of you would have to come up for air.

You pulled away right as he sat back. You’d call it harmonious, but that would make it sound graceful. Each of you fumbled to get your shirt over your head, and it cascaded into a tangle of limbs and clumsy laughs. You reached for the hem of his T-shirt next. You’d hate to be the only one in your underwear.

You didn’t see them but felt the tight muscles of his chest. They didn’t give under your touch, even as you flattened a hand against him. He picked up on the hint, that you wanted him to lay back, and you moved together. He pushed himself further back on the bed, you following in a feline-like prowl above him, until he rested against the pillows. 

It was a new side to you—at least, one that Eren hadn’t seen yet—and he already craved more. You were no longer shy, not in the way he remembered, but entirely disinhibited with this, dare Eren say, beyond turned-on look on your face. Glassy eyes, kiss-swollen lips, and the cherry on top: that devilish smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. 

He could only gawk as you pressed your smile to his sternum, then a bit lower. Then even lower than that. Your lips skimmed over the smooth skin of his hip bone, tickling him, smacking him with the realization of how dangerously low you were. Every muscle in his body tightened, his cock throbbing to be touched. 

Only a tad bit desperate—he’d call it enthusiasm—Eren snaked his hand down to undo his belt. Once it was off, you helped him out of his jeans, working them and his boxers down his legs. You settled between. 

Eren was so kind to you the first time, so exceedingly gentle; the least you could do was give him the chance to see what you’d learned since. 

You placed a hand on the top of his thigh. Already, it flexed. You slid it higher, merely palming over his cock at your leisure—not his. He chewed on his inner lip in anticipation, fighting the impulse to rut against your hand. He wasn’t prepared to look that pathetic, even if he felt that way watching you wet your lips. He knew what was coming next, and if he had any air in his lungs, he would have whined at the sight. 

When you finally brought your mouth to the tip of his cock, he sucked in a breath. That was all it took, just a swipe of your tongue; you didn’t even have to take him past your lips. Wanting to pull another noise from him, you did it a second time, licking him from base to tip, agonizingly slow.

You knew what he wanted. You could see it plainly on his face: Just put it in your mouth already! Anything, please! But instead of flinging a hand to the back of your head, he gripped the sheets. He let you tease him despite that it wasn’t the time or place for it. Outside the door, there was far-off music. It was indistinct, buzzing behind heavy footsteps and creaking floorboards and laughter—the usual party rumblings. It was as ambient to Eren as white noise, no greater than a low drone. He could only concentrate on suppressing his desire to ruin you—as if he hadn’t done so already. But before he could do that, you needed to show him how much you could take.

So you did just that. Inch by inch. 

Eren’s abdominals clenched as more of him disappeared past your lips. Your mouth, wet and oh-so warm, was tight. Intentionally so as you wrapped your lips around him with hollowed cheeks. You found a comfortable, steady pace, bobbing your head over his length. You only paused to gather your saliva, allowing it to pool behind your front teeth. Unabashedly, Eren watched. 

It was a sight so incredibly pornographic yet one he found undeniably adorable. Your little expressions had him smitten—how you pursed and puckered your lips before finally spitting. It dribbled from your bottom lip in a lewd string connecting you to him. You let out an uncomfortable giggle, then snapped it with a swipe of your thumb.

He’d say you officially had him wrapped around your pinky finger now—as if he hadn’t been pretending that wasn’t already the case for months.

Up and down, your hand spread the saliva over his length with little resistance. After a moment, you returned your mouth to him, and the little rasp of a moan he let slip caught your attention. Through tear-damp lashes, you found his eyes keen on you, his jaw slightly slack in what you’d only describe as awe. 

The buttery lights warmed the side of his face, glinting like fire behind his eyes. You studied every part of his face, from the twitch of his brow when you’d lap your tongue along the underside of his shaft to how his nose would scrunch when you’d swirl around the tip. You wanted to learn exactly what made him feel good so you could do it over and over again, as he had with you.

Eren wrestled himself on whether he should let you continue or not. He didn’t want to stop you, dutifully attempting to take all of him without choking, it was just that he had a better idea in mind.

He sat up enough to guide you to his side with both hands. You could tell he was trying to be smug, but his voice sounded taken as he told you, “Looks like whoever you were with must have been a real amateur.” 

Eren had you perpendicular to him now but still bent over so you could keep on as you were. 

“Or just selfish,” he added. His hand stroked down your spine and over the curve of your ass. He reached between your legs and pushed your panties aside to make room for him. “Because this way, I can touch you, too.”

You moaned when his fingers traced over your slit. He used the pads of them to circle your clit and didn’t falter even as you wiggled back against his hand. With his free hand, he cupped your face, gently encouraging you to pick up from where you had left off. You were more than willing. 

He dipped a finger inside you. On impulse, he jerked deeper into your throat when he felt you flutter around the intrusion, as if he could feel it in his cock. Every whimper he’d coax from you sounded even sweeter when muffled.

“Not to mention, he must be a fucking idiot to miss out on this.” Eren’s voice was a murmur up until the end. Then it was a hiss. “Because I bet you look real pretty coming with your mouth full.” 

He spoke to you softly, the timbre of his voice a warm hum, yet his confidence was palpable. The back of your neck burned.

Though you clung to it like a shield, your strength began to waver. It was evident by the quiver in your thighs every time he’d slip from you, fingers dripping, to play with your clit. Every time, you followed it with another strangled whimper. Each was like a gift to Eren.

He had brought you to the brink of becoming undone. All the while, he watched contently, head drooped to his shoulder and everything. He felt the tiny huffs from your nose fan over his pelvis as you sputtered around his cock. Your arm would wobble, elbow threatening to give out, as you struggled to focus on him and your orgasm, impending and fogging your senses. You had forgotten how wonderful another person could make you feel, and this was just his fingers. 

Eren was a bit of an anomaly; it only took you a few encounters to conclude such. Not everyone was talented with their fingers or their tongues or their—the list could go on, really. But it was more than deftness alone. Eren actually wanted to make you come, and by the look of it, he was just as needy for it as you were. And you were right there, the heat of it winding in your stomach until your entire being gained a pulse of its own. 

You came with Eren’s cock in your mouth. It overtook you in a glow, burning you from the inside out in a series of little explosions. You dug your nails into his thigh. Your other hand, though shaky, was still around the base of him. You were hardly conscious of how you squeezed him, but he didn’t even feel it. He was more enraptured by the way your throat tightened around him as you choked through your orgasm.

Past the thick thrumming in your ears, you heard how much Eren enjoyed that lovely little mouth of yours—how much he enjoyed using it.

Thunder emitted low from his chest as he rolled his hips, meeting you halfway to ensure every bow of your head was punctuated by another squeak of the mattress and his tip bumped against the back of your throat. He was as delicate as could be while fucking your mouth, yet tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. They welled up and threatened to drip down your cheek, teasing him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It tumbled from Eren’s mouth in a ragged chant. His head was thrown back into the stack of pillows, but he fought to steal a glimpse of you before your knees buckled beneath you. “Look at you. You’re fucking perfect.”

Your heart skipped. 

You liked that you were the reason for his pleasure—the reason his cheeks bore a flush, and why he could no longer hold himself back. Seconds ago, you had set a scene just as vulgar, helplessly grinding against his hand in a chase for your own high. And now that he was just as swept up in it, he could no longer pretend he had dreamt only of fucking you gently.

There was no way Eren could finish before he had the chance to get started. He regrettably pulled out from your mouth with a spitty pop.

You were still panting when you traded positions. Eren laid you back on the bed, gazing down to trace over the features of your face. He petted the side of it when he said, “You did so good.”

He kissed every spot he touched. Your cheekbone, the lobe of your ear, then the dip below it. You felt each one at the base of your spine.

“Talk to me.” Eren nuzzled the words in the nook of your jaw, breathed them over your skin, sensitive and already tacky from your swelter. His tongue and teeth grazed down the column of your neck. “Tell me what you want.”

There wasn’t any air behind your voice, nothing to carry it when you tried to reply, “Take off my underwear. Please.”

You went to raise your hips for him, but your legs had long turned to mush. There was an unmistakable tremble to them as Eren shimmied off your underwear. You placed a leg on either side of him, spreading yourself and welcoming him between. His eyes, alert as a hawk’s, widened before falling exactly where one would predict. Then he swallowed hard. 

He was faced with the task of taking all of you in, as if it were even possible. You followed the tips of his fingers as he trailed them up your curves with a butterfly’s touch. He toyed with the strap of your bra, now wilted off your shoulder and dangling at your arms. With a quick tug, he had your breasts popped over the cups.

Eren licked his lips. “God, you’re—”

He eagerly crashed to your chest, right between your tits. He didn’t intend to cut himself off, but he decided it was probably for the best; he wasn’t sure what he was about to spout out, anyway. 

You were just as sensitive as he remembered, unable to keep still as his large hands squeezed at your breasts, kissing and nipping and licking every inch of the delicate skin. When his mouth was latched to one, flicking his tongue at your perked nipple, he’d continue playing with the other, rolling his thumb over it. 

As though you could possibly drift away, you anchored yourself to Eren. You raked a hand through his hair, fingering through the lank strands that escaped his tie and hung loose. Before you could screw it up any further, you flinched when you heard voices booming on the other side of the wall. Your entire body froze as you glanced over to the door. 

Either Eren didn’t hear it or if he was only pretending he didn’t. His hold on you was steadfast as he covered your body in kisses—that is, until the handle jiggled. He tore away then to follow your line of sight. 

You waited for something to happen. Anything. Like the knob to rattle again, or a pound that would shake the door. Maybe someone would kick it down—you didn’t know! But the only sound between you was the thumping of your heartbeat against Eren’s.

Whoever it was, they must have wanted the room for the very same reason you and Eren did because, after a minute passed, you believed they had left. The groan of the floorboards grew distant as another hot and bothered pair continued their search for a vacancy. 

You brought Eren back to you by lightly taking him by the forearm. You were unable to wrap your fingers around the entirety of it but managed to pull him in, anyway. At the same time, you dug your heels into the mattress and scooted closer to him.

“I want you,” you quietly confessed. You lifted your hips, angling them in an attempt to meet his cock. 

Eren needed to convince himself this was real—that you were real. You hardly gave him the time to before you hitched a leg around his waist. He collapsed over you, caging you between his forearms. His eyes had darkened, brows sitting lowly above them in that drunken, determined look of lust. 

He kissed you. The corner of your mouth first, then fully on your lips. Between your legs, you felt him brush against you, throbbing. His tongue parted your lips, slipping past them the moment he pushed inside you. 

It stole your breath. Though your mouth was agape, a tiny ‘o’ against his, not a sound left you. He slipped out of you, then filled you again. Your breath returned in the form of a moan. He did this a few more times, deeper with each tilt of his hips, fucking you languidly, just to see if you could take it before he bottomed out.

Eren straightened out. “You okay?”

You gazed up at him and watched his lips curve into a soft smile when you whispered, “More than.” 

Then you watched it melt away once you wiggled against him, encouraging him, asking for—no, taking more of him. As though he had been waiting on you, he finally pushed deeper until he was flush against you.

You realized Eren’s composure was an act because it much snapped like a rubber band. You caught his inhale, through his nose and sharp in your ear. His head dropped on his exhale, and you felt it vibrate through you. He thrust into you a few more times, adjusting to you, while tiny grunts played at your ears. 

Keeping in mind your whereabouts, you expected this to be a quickie. But before you knew it, you were having the type of sex that wasn’t meant for a friend’s bed. It became pounding hips, so intense—so fucking good—that you heard Eren’s hand hit the headboard with a smack, gripping the top of it for support. It was erratic kisses. Ones that were messy and missed but would catch another part of the face, like the bow of your lip or dip in his chin; gasping and stealing damp breaths from one another in a bedroom growing headier by the second.

Lest he wished to come now and completely ruin everything, Eren had to pump the breaks. He sat back onto his calves and shoved a hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his face. His chest looked heavy, yet his arms remained sturdy as he cradled your hips. He fucked you slowly, mesmerized by the sight of him burying inside you—how well you took him—again and again. 

Flustered, you tried to remember how to breathe, but Eren made it difficult with his lazy eyes and an even lazier smile. 

You felt your whole body react when he placed a hand at the base of your neck. You were silk beneath his touch, from the dip between your chest, down to your navel. He traced along the side of your body and the swells of your breasts, then repeated it.

Eren had known you for years, but he didn’t know you—not like that. But he knew enough to say he liked you. And he was sure he’d only grow to like you more—a lot more.

He couldn’t wait to get there, to know everything there was to learn about you. Your birthday, your favorite food, what you liked to do on a rainy day—hell, he wanted to know what superpower you’d choose if presented with the option. He wanted every detail of it, and that had to mean something. 

Eren grabbed your hand. He held it against his face and kissed the inside of your wrist. 

“You’re so soft,” he told you, voice pitched low and spoken into your skin. 

The only coherent thought you had was how desperately you needed him again. You yanked him forward until his mouth was back on yours, where it belonged. Taking your open mouth as an invitation, he sucked your tongue lightly. You felt a frisson of heat beneath your skin, but it prickled like a chill.

“Eren. More,” you pleaded, your voice lost somewhere in his mouth. 

You twisted beneath him. Eren pulled out and watched as you rolled to your stomach, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. You could only glimpse over your shoulder, but it was enough to see that his eyes were trained on you.

Suddenly hot under his gaze, you rushed to add, “Only if you want to.”

Whether it was intentional or Eren was just seeing things, he swore you arched your back as you said it, ass in the air like it was an offering. 

Of course he wanted to. He wanted to so badly that he nearly couldn’t get the words out. From his mumbling, you could only make out, “You have no fucking idea.”

Eren had to kiss you then, everywhere that he could reach. Your lower back and then the valley of it next. He kissed a path between your legs. With his hands on your ass, he spread you, luring a squeal from you when he licked a stripe through your pussy. 

He stood tall on his knees, kicked your legs apart, and plunged inside you with a swift swing of his hips. You let out an indulgent moan, your hands clawing fists into the pillows. With the fingers digging into the dough of your sides, he worked you over his cock. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Eren panted, almost like a laugh, as if he was in disbelief. He wanted to say he had forgotten how wonderful you felt, almost like you were made for him, but how could he forget? He had only been longing for it. 

“Fuck,” you whined under your breath.

You didn’t see it, your head had dropped between your shoulders, but Eren smirked. 

“You like when I talk to you, don’t you?”

He watched how your back arched deeper before you answered, babbling, “Yes, yes—oh fuck, yes.”

There was little else on your mind other than how close you were to coming for the second time. Absolutely desperate for it, you bounced back against Eren’s thrusts. He cursed through gritted teeth, watching you sink back onto his cock. His hand snaked between your legs in search of your clit. He began rubbing tight circles that you felt in your toes. 

You squeaked out a small, breathless sound as your body tightened.

With a voice like gravel, Eren hummed, “There you go.”

He fucked you through it. His hips never lost their pacing, and the rhythm of his fingers was resolute even as you twitched below him. It wasn’t until you heard him grunt, “I can feel it—shit, I can feel you coming—you’re so tight,” that he began to strain.

With a cheek smushed into the sheets, your moans were choppy until they sputtered into one last sigh. You went slack in Eren’s grasp.

He slipped an arm beneath you before you could crumble to the bed, holding you close enough that he could feel your rabid pulse against his arm. Eren folded over you, lazily rutting into you. You felt his weight atop you, the words he etched into the nape of your neck when murmured, “I wanna be with you.”

Blame it on the orgasm, but for whatever reason, it didn’t register with you. Be with you—wasn’t that what was happening right now?

His hand scooped your chin, angling your face to kiss your temple.

“Come back to my place.” Eren ghosted his lips over your ear. “I wanna be with you tonight, like I should have the first time.” 

You could only assume the blood had left your head by now. Your eyes fluttered shut. You were as malleable as putty; you’d agree to just about anything at that moment—if you could. Hazy off all those feel-good hormones, you couldn’t manage a nod as your body rocked with his. After a few more jerks of his hips, he pulled out.

He didn’t come but flipped you onto your back. You slumped into the pillows willingly, your legs falling at your sides so Eren could nestle between. He didn’t enter you again but laid his cock against you, nice and slick for him, and spread you with it. He held himself there with a flattened palm and fucked between you. Wrecked and tortuously sensitive, the head of his cock bumping your clit had you spinning to the point of seeing stars.

Eren’s eyes snapped shut as he focused on your blissful purrs below him. He was already close; it only took another stutter of his hips before he threw his head back and came across your stomach, some of it spurting as high as your tits and neck. The muscles of his arms flexed, the veins of them chiseled and defined, as he held you there, soft and pliant for him.

He was still breathing hard when he stilled. He flexed his fingers, stretching out an ironclad heaps, as he sat back on his heels.

“Fuck, what a mess.” Eren croaked a chuckle. “Sorry.” 

He stood and poked around the room a bit before locating a tissue box on the dresser. It skipped through your mind to ask if this was Jean’s room, but you decided it was best you didn’t know. 

Eren gave you some tissues before taking his handful to wipe you clean. Despite your attempts at controlling it, you were visibly trembling. He must have noticed because he didn’t rush to dress but flopped beside you, even if he claimed it was because he was too hot to put his shirt back on. 

You lolled your head to the side to look at him. Dew painted the edges of his face, catching what little light was there and defining the structure. 

You shared a look, let it linger between you. It was unreadable. A face of shock—one you surely mirrored, and yet comfort lapped at you like tropical waves. The two emotions, together in stark contrast, could be summarized with a simple, ‘It’s you.’ 

Said once through a heavy sigh, like the realization that you were only startled by a friend around the corner.

Said twice with your jaw cartoonishly dropped to the floor when you realized who you had sex with again—the prickle of surprise when you rouse from your dream only to find them naked at your side.

Eren patted the top of your thigh before heaving himself upright. Time to go.

You quickly dressed and straightened out as much as possible, double-checking that no one’s clothes were on backward. Eren was fixing his hair in the mirror when he asked, “You ready to get out of here?”

“You were serious?” you questioned—nicely, of course. You figured it was only a heat-of-the-moment sort of deal.

He caught your eye in the reflection. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t serious.” 

It slipped from his tongue easily. It sounded natural, no different than fact, as he told you what he wanted—you. The words were weighty, dragging your woozy head back down to Earth. They sobered you up like a splash of ice water to the face. 

You didn’t have any desire to return to the party. There was no way either of you could continue on as though nothing happened. Someone would catch on. Besides that, you didn’t want to pretend any longer; you were much more interested in seeing where the rest of the night would take you—where Eren would take you. 

You plotted your exit well enough that Eren was waiting on your ride outside by the time you were sneaking out. You had texted Collin that you were leaving and took his lack of reply as a good sign. You gave Hitch a half-truth—told her you were going home with someone but didn’t specify who. 

Eren’s apartment was nice, neat. Still exceptionally new and hardly lived in. Then again, he didn’t fit the type to go full throttle into interior decorating. 

He immediately pointed out the bathroom because you had complained you felt gross during the drive. There, you rummaged around a bit before you found his face wash in the shower. You freshened up as much as you could, stealing a swig of mouthwash to rid the syrupy taste of liquor from your teeth. 

Eren knocked at the door. You spat into the sink, wiped your mouth, and peeked out.

“Thought you might want these,” Eren said, offering what appeared to be clothes much comfier than your own, folded and stacked in his hands. 

You thanked him, inspecting them once he left you to change. You decided on just the T-shirt; it covered enough. There was no use in hiding now, and it certainly wasn’t worth risking tripping over the legs of his sweatpants.

Though you were practically tip-toeing, Eren heard you the second you walked into the kitchen. He stepped out from behind the refrigerator door dressed in just a pair of shorts, no shirt. You held your breath when he smiled at you, ever so lopsidedly that you found it cute. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said like an admission, with a sheepish laugh and all. 

Your giggle was just as lighthearted, smiling when you replied, “I am, too.”

He neared you in a step with ardor sparkling through his eyes. With hands closed around your waist, he scooped you up and plopped you onto the counter. 

You yelped when its chill hit the backs of your thighs. You made yourself comfortable, sitting happily and with dangling feet, as you watched Eren cycle through what little preparation was necessary for a frozen pizza.

You’d seen him like this, exactly like this, just as you’d seen all of your brother’s friends lumber out from his bedroom at three in the afternoon on a Saturday. You never looked for too long; that was off-limits. But now, things were different. He was different—to you, at least. Now you could touch. 

You studied the sinewy muscles of his back, how they pulled taut when he reached into the freezer. Even under the fluorescent light of the kitchen, the crests of his shoulders shone like gold even though it was the middle of a sunless winter. 

Eren squinted to read the instructions on the back of the box. Your snickering was met with his side eye, and he followed it with a ‘don’t laugh’ as he tossed the box aside.

He snatched a bag of chips from the counter, and the two of you split them as an appetizer while the oven preheated. While the pizza baked, you played a game of twenty questions, just to pass the time. And when the timer blared, you ate your slices straight from the oven and asked each other questions with burnt tongues. 

You learned that Eren’s birthday was on March 30th and that his favorite food was a cheeseburger, hold the pickles—that part was important. When it rained, he preferred to either nap or go outside to watch the storm, no in between. And if he woke up one day to discover he had superhero-like powers, Eren would want to be able to teleport and travel the world, even if his clothes couldn’t come with him—yes, you asked. 

The questions continued into the bedroom because some answers, like the one to the superpower question, inspired lengthy conversations. You met Eren in his bed and curled against him, letting him spread the blanket over you. You were glad to have stuck with just the tee because you liked the feeling of his skin returning to yours, your legs intertwined with his.

It was Eren’s turn. It was the final question to end the game. You thought he’d contemplate it longer, as he had with his previous questions, but it only took a beat for him to ask, “Can I see the guy you’re dating?”

“Absolutely not!” You scoffed a laugh at his audacity, even sitting higher in your seat to balk at him. “Besides, that’s not how the game works.”

Still, his grin widened. “C’mon, please. It’s the least I deserve.”

He poked you playfully, causing you to giggle as you asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I need to size up my competition.”

You wanted to be just as bold and tell him there was no competition, none at all. But your reluctant, “Fine, here,” said enough as you settled back into the crook of his arm. 

You outstretched your phone before your face, far enough that Eren could see the screen, and scrolled to your dating app. You flitted through his profile because you didn’t want Eren to get a proper look, but he plucked the phone from your hand anyway. He glanced from you to the photo, then back to you once more.

“Seriously? This guy?” He tilted his head knowingly. “You know you can do better than that.”

Thinking you were clever, you sassed, “Oh, then are you suggesting you’re better?”

He flashed a cheeky smile. “Of course I am.”

You grabbed your phone from him with a roll of your eyes. “Whatever. He’s nice.” Eren pulled a face. “What?”

“It’s just the way you said it—‘he’s nice,’” he explained. “You don’t actually like him, do you?”

Eren was right. You didn’t want to admit it, though, not with the way he was eyeing you. But the truth sat heavy in your chest, and it consoled some of the weight to outrightly say, “No, not really. Not like I thought I did.”

You didn’t have the chance to set your phone aside before Eren snagged it again. Now aware of the guy’s name, he easily sorted through your contacts and found your messages with him. The unanswered text you last sent, well before winter break, stared back at you mockingly.

You felt a twinge of embarrassment waiting for Eren to comment on it, but whatever he was thinking, he kept the comment to himself.

It was undeniable that the guy must be a real prick for ignoring you. In turn, Eren determined he probably deserved what was coming: a message as short and sweet as ‘I think it’s best we don’t see each other again.’

Though you could have stopped him at any time, you still gasped, “Eren!” when he sent the text. It was meant as a scold but spilled from you as a laugh—as laughter, shaking your shoulders and making it a challenge to get your phone back.

A middle-of-the-night text like that could only mean one thing. You were sure he’d put the pieces together—that you had gotten with someone else—but you didn’t care. Now that he was out of the way, Eren ditched your phone next and captured the last bit of your attention.

His eyes were loyal to you, looking you straight in the face as he told you, “I like you. A lot.” He said it calmly, with a voice like a breeze. He brought a hand to your face and grazed it with the backs of his fingers. “Way more than I should, considering…”

Eren’s voice trailed off in a too-knowing way. He left it up to you to fill in the blank. No, blanks. Considering the only history between you was a two-night stand? Considering you lived three hours away? Or—how could you forget?—was it that you were the younger sister of his best friend? 

The correct answer? All of the above. 

Eren had more to say; you were sure of it. There was much—too much—left to be said. Tonight wasn’t the night for it.

You buried into the curve of his arm. Nose pressed against his neck, you breathed in the smell of his day, the salt on his skin from fucking. You lazed a hand on his chest. He was warm, live beneath your palm, his heartbeat like the patter of a tiny drum. 

You took the bait then, carelessly pitching him, “So, how’s this going to work?”

Eren heard the smile in your voice. His fingers found your chin, angling your face toward him. On it was that coy smile of yours, the one he remembered from that night. He kissed it, soft-lipped, as chaste as a mere taste.

“We’ll figure it out.”