n

You grabbed her by the arm and threw her down to the ground, she crashed into the dirt with a grunt.

“SHIT!” She gritted through her teeth. You were about to land the finishing blow when suddenly you felt a vine creeping up your leg.

“W-What?!” You were shocked, rose vines growing from nowhere and tying you up, the thorns piercing your skin and where they had punctured you, you felt a burning sensation, far beyond just a simple wound.

“Earth style- roses temptation genjustsu!” She exclaimed. You fell back, the thorns creeping up higher and higher up your thighs. You felt your core tighten and your body temperature raise. You were starting to sweat, a painful arousal stirring in your loins almost immediately.

You heard you name being shouted from beyond the tree line. The genjustsu user swore, before making a break for it. You saw your comerade rushing into the scene, watching you writhe in lustful agony.

“What did she do? How did she hurt you?” Sasuke asked, kneeling down worried at your side. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder and you felt electricity through your veins from the simple touch.

“Ngh- AH!” You moaned loud. “S…She said it was a genjustsu…” You were able to make out. Sasuke grabbed a kunai from his side pouch, slicing the growing vines off of you and pricking you with the sharp tip to try and break the genjustsu. You let out another moan, thighs clamping together tightly. Sasukes eyes widened, he swallowed deeply, you watched mesmerized as his adams apple bobbed up and down before he licked his lips.

“It… It’s not working. It hasn’t broken…” You whimpered, feeling a drop of arousal coat the inside of your panties. The sensation alone was enough to have you arching your back. “S-Sasuke…” You gasped, writhing in the fluffy grass.

“I-I don’t know what to do… Ive never seen… this kind of genjustsu before!” His face was red, and he clutched the kunai tightly. “I’m going to find her and force her to break it-“

“No! D-Don’t you dare leave m-me like this…” You said with fear. “Sasuke I need your help… P-please. It hurts…” Tears ran down your eyes, your hand rested on your breast as you played with it to release some tension. You moaned, biting your lip and looking up at the Uchiha man through your eyelashes.

Sasuke couldn’t deny he was at least slightly aroused by your lewd display, begging him for “help” which he knew meant was to fuck you. He watched you cry and thrash against the ground, your face red with embarrassment while you were at your most desperate with carnal desires. His comerade was in trouble- how could he deny her the help she needed?! Especially when you’re in oh so much pain… The guilt sat heavy on his mind, needing to fuck his partner while his wife was at home worried about his well being.

Before he could make up his mind you got up and pounced on him, bringing him to the ground. He gasped, feeling you grind against his erection between both your layers. You moaned, the feeling of his hard member against your pained clit was a relief like no other. Watching his face redden while you were on top of him only turned you on more. He let out soft sounds, his hand resting on your waist as you rolled your hips into him.

“Ngh- i-it’s just a genjustu. It’s all in your head, you have to fight it!” Sasuke stammered, although his hips rutting back against you was telling a different story.

Pins and needles were all over your body, your cunt was aching to be filled by him- you needed to feel the stretch of cock on a carnal level, tearing at his shirt, crying through the pain of your animalistic craving.

“It’s doesn’t feel like one…” you huff, his shirt coming off and revealing his muscular abs. Sasuke sat up, his hand coming off of your waist and tangling in your hair.

“You… we… need to fight it…” he said softly, face inches away from yours.

“I can’t think straight Sasuke… I need you.” You closed the gap, lips crashing into his own. He didn’t follow his own advice, tanging his tongue with yours the second he was able to slip past your lips.

You pulled your shorts off, then reached for his pants and unbuttoned them, zipping his zipper down and tugging his boxers waistband to the side. His cock sprung loose, his angry red tip lathered with precum. You bent down and shoved him down your throat, he grunted, pulling your hair.

You shoved him down the back of your throat, playing with your cunt from outside your panties. You felt your slick seep through, making your fingers slippery. You used that hand to fondle his balls, starved for his cum.

“Ngh- ahh- shit. It’s t-too much… I… I can’t…” He whimpered, shooting a fat load into your mouth. You gratefully swallowed, playing with your pained pussy to release the tension. The heavenly taste of his salty spend on your tongue was enough to have you seeing stars, plunging your index and middle finger into your weary hole, pulsing around your fingers.

You kept sucking, his legs twitching as you sucked him dry and then some. His eyes began to water, moaning your name to you in the forest. His mind was racing, thinking about Sakura, wishing she had this kind of a mouth on her. He felt awful, drooling over the feeling of your sloppy sucking and comparing it to that of his wife. He felt even worse, knowing yours was better.

“I- oh fuck,” He stammered, eyes threatening to roll back. “I-Is that it? Is it over?” He asked, pulling you off his dick, watching you lick your lips. You shook your head.

“It’s worse now,” you blubbered, face red. Your eyes were still full of tears, a pained expression on your face. Sasuke wanted to help you- really- but he felt awful at the idea of fucking you.

“I…”

“I know, I know. I’ll do the work, just please Sasuke! My fingers can’t get the job done, it’s hell! My skin feels like it’s burning.” You threw your compression shirt off, tits spilling out. His eyes were fixed on them, you felt his cock harden underneath you again.

“Make it quick…” he muttered, licking his lips.

You quickly mounted him, stuffing his girthy cock into your sopping hole, moaning loudly as you took him balls deep. Sasuke grunted, ashamed of his reactions as he twitched inside of you. You rocked back and forth on him, clit brushing up against his dark hair and your jaw hung loose as you coated his loins with your arousal.

Sasuke stifled a moan, watching your tits bounce up and down as you rode him. He attached his lips to your hard nipple and you cried, pushing his head deeper into your breasts. He licked at your tits, silencing his groans into your chest, embarrassed he was so sensitive from a woman who wasn’t even his wife.

“FUCK! Y-yes sasuke! M-More!” You yelped, feeling your core tighten as your thighs shook.

You came desperately, choking his shaft with your velvety walls as you leaked on his lap. Sasuke moaned, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead while you pumped yourself on him, using his hard cock like he were a simple toy. It was too much for him, he shot hot spurts of cum deep inside of you, your toes curled and you clamped you eyes shut, feeling the euphoria from being so unbelievably stuffed.

It was so perplexing, never had Sasuke been fucked so desperately, this type of sexual energy he wasn’t used to and all he could do was curse himself for enjoying it so much.

He panted, falling back, hitting the ground with his spine as he waited for you to get off of him. But you didn’t. You sat on his cock, breathing heavily with your hands splayed on his chest. While you felt slightly better, you were still at the mercy of your arousal. Sasukes eyes shot open as you slowly started bobbing up and down his shaft again.

“W-What? That’s not enough?” He asked shocked, brows furrowed as your hips rose and fell back against him.

Your eyes were still red, face scrunched into a tortured grimace, teeth gritting as you kept at it.

“N-Not even close.” He let out a whimper, biting his lower lip as he watched his sticky cum leak out of you and stick to where your sexes met, stretching into a stringy mess when you came off, just to pool again when you came down on him.

He threw his head back, hips thrusting into you against his will, diving his overstimulated cock into your tight, wet cunt, bottoming out with a shudder each time his tip hit your hilt. He grabbed one of your tits, thumb rolling over your nipple eliciting a growl from deep within your gut.

You threw your hands on the ground, one on each side of his head. You began to ride him faster, sounds of moans and the slapping from your wet skin on eachother filling the woods. He cried out your name panicked.

“Please! I cant… oh god…” Sasukea legs twitched, hips hitting the grass as he lost his energy.

“Sasuke, m’so sorry,” you mewled. “I’ll be good, just let me do this.” The stretch of his cock nestled deep inside of you felt too good to be true, scratching the itch deep inside of you.

“Soooo…. g-good…” He moaned, regretting his words. This was wrong… he knew it was. Balls deep in his sexy comerade, Sakura had no idea. The worst position to be in, yet the best position to lay down and take some wet pussy after a lengthy mission.

“F-Fuck!” You cried, ripping out a few blades of grass while your assed bounced on his cock with fervor. Soon enough you were a moaning mess, cumming around his member with passion. Sasuke thrashed, feeling you tense around him again. He was so tired, he couldn’t cum again, but the scene was so erotic he felt like he would’ve right then and there if it wasn’t for your appetite.

The burning was back and you screamed, tired of the poison that was seeping through your veins, the poison that made you a cock crazed lunatic. Sasuke was tired too, more so than you. He knew whenever he fucked Sakura next that he would be thinking of this- thinking of you. In the heat of the moment, watching your fucked out face produce a gut wrenching scream he decided that if this moment would fuck up his life forever, he would make it worth it.

Sasuke quickly got up, throwing you to the ground with this powerful arm and grabbed your hip with it. Your eyes widened, watching him lower his pants further before grabbing his cock and parting you in two with his smooth tip. You yelped, scratching his back as he finally gave you the sensation you needed.

“Ngh- GOD YES!” You cried, his dick was pumping in and out of you with an almost violent vigor. He fucked you the way he wouldn’t treat his wife, grabbing your tits and slapping them while he pummeled you. It felt amazing, you propped your head up, watching how his cock disappeared inside of you, only to bulge in your stomach the moment he reached your hilt.

“Fuck- So fucking good….” It came out as a whimper, then an animalistic groan when you threw your hips into his, meeting him whenever he thrusted inside of you.

“Thank you Sasuke, your cock s’fucking good,” tears rolled down your face again and he smirked, licking them off your face before spurting another load inside of you with a throaty groan.

Finally the pain was over, you laid there a fucked out mess unable to think straight- unable to think about the mission. Sasuke buttoned his pants and sat there next to your shirtless with his head in his hand.

“Shit…” He sighed. “Let’s promise to keep this out of the mission report, okay?”

Tag list: @fuckmachine42069 @pasdasin @alien-girl-violet

Next: Day 11 - Pet Play - Kiba X Reader

“What do you wanna eat?” He asks instead. “Stir-fry? Some meat?”

“Whatever is the fastest to make,” you dig your hand into his bicep, hopping along. He wonders why you didn’t put the foot back on. Is this a test? It probably is. 

But he wants you to feel comfortable, even though the tiled floor is surely much too cold.

He’s never cooked this fast, not even when he’s hungry after training. 

You’re quiet when his back is turned, though you’re not much chattier when he looks back at you.

You’re tired, and he can’t blame you. 

He calls it an early night after Dinner, orders you to get into bed while he goes over the kitchen one last time, does the dishes by hand because he doesn’t want the noise of the dishwasher to wake you.

“Kakuzu?” He can hear you call out to him on his way to the bathroom, the hallway dark and the rain still pounding against the windows.

“Yeah?”

You’re quiet for a moment, long enough that he thinks he imagined your voice in the first place. But then he hears it again, muffled and barely there.

“Thank you.”

-

It’s a little after midnight when he checks on you again. He doesn’t mean to, but he woke up and found the lights on.

You’re sitting on the floor in the hallway, your face clammy with sweat. You don’t seem to recognize him at first when he talks to you, though you dig your hands into his bicep when he lowers himself to your height.

“Genma!” You hiss at him. “Help me up!”

“Gladly,” he rumbles, not sure who you’re confusing him with, something like jealousy bubbling up inside of him. “Where to?”

“I’m thirsty,” you tell him. “Dad moved the fridge again.”

“I can bring you something to drink.”

“No,” you box his shoulder, hard. “I don’t trust you. I’ll get it myself.”

He leads you to the kitchen, guides you to where the glasses are kept and nods along when you complain about the dishes and the rooms and everything moving every time you close your eyes.

“You should probably lay down,” he tries to reason with you when you open the fridge next. “You’re sick.”

“Boohoo,” you tell him off. “I’m hungry.”

“What do you want?”

You turn back to squint at him. “You’re not Genma,” you decide. “You’re too nice. Raido?”

“Yes,” Kakuzu decides to play along. “And you need to get back to bed.”

“Fine,” you throw yourself at him. “Carry me.”

You’re quiet as he lifts you back the way you came and he uses it to his advantage, his mind going through the few meds he has in stock. You’re running a fever, but he’s not sure how high, though your current energy levels suggest that you’re not yet in need of urgent care.

“Thank you,” your voice is sweet as he puts you down. It should have been a warning.

Your leg shoots out of nowhere, hitting him where it hurts the most.

Kakuzu goes down like a log, face pressed into the mattress as you curl up in bed, gurgling in happy laughter.

“Suits you right, Genma!” You cackle. “Don’t try to impersonate Raido ever again!”

-

You wake up with your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth and your shirt sticking to your skin. It’s been ages since you’ve last had a fever, but you’re still familiar with the signs.

You don’t recognize the room you’re in. Your brain needs a few minutes to boot, and you spend those minutes trying to locate your prosthetic without much success.

There’s the softest knock against the door just as your memories start coming back.

“Kakuzu?”

He pushes the door open. “Feeling better?”

“I-” You stop. “Did I do something stupid in my sleep?”

“Depends what you’d call stupid,” he takes another step inside and offers you a glass of water. You’re convinced you’ve never drank anything this delicious.

“I once threw myself down the stairs in a fever dream because I was convinced my brothers took me skydiving,” you admit with a grin. “Have you seen my prosthetic?”

“How are you still alive?” Kakuzu asks dryly. “Never mind. I think you left it in the bathroom. Do you need hel-” He breaks off when you grab his arm to pull yourself up.

“I’m fine, thanks,” you send him a smile. “I need just a minute and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Kakuzu’s arm shoots out, stopping you from hopping past him like a disabled bunny. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Freshen up,” you wobble a little as you adjust your weight. “And get back to work. The sooner I crack this case the sooner things get back to normal.”

“You’re sick,” Kakuzu points out. “You need to rest.”

“Oh,” you laugh, leaning against his arm in the hopes of him giving up. No dice. “I’m fine. My fever is usually gone after one night.”

“Stay,” Kakuzu insists, though he jerks his head to the side as if embarrassed by his own words. “There are no news yet. Where would you stay? A hotel isn’t safe and your apartment isn’t fully prepped. Your office is about as safe as any other public place and-”

“Fine,” you pat his shoulder. “I’ll stay for today, because you’ve asked so nicely.”

He pulls a face but lets you pass.

It’s only in the bathtub that your mind catches up to what he didn’t say out loud.

Right now, you’re living in limbo, a place outside of reality. You can convince yourself that everything is fine, but you’ll have to get back to it eventually.

It happens sooner than you want it too.

Your phone rings on your pillow as you slip into the clothes Kakuzu has laid out for you. Some of it is yours, washed and dried the night before, but the sweatshirt probably belonged to him. Wearing it lessens the blow of picking up.

“Hi Dad.”

“Are you allright?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Don’t mock me,” he growls. “Do you know how worried we are? Coming into work only to hear that you’ve been in a kidnapping incident?”

You sigh. “I told you not to flag my name!”

“You are my daughter, I-”

“Is Mom around?” You interrupt him before he can talk himself into an even worse fit of rage. “Because I’m sure your blood pressure is through the roof right now. I am fine. I did everything the way I was trained.”

“No you didn’t. You would have called me if you did.”

“It was late, I was safe and honestly, I just wanted to rest before I had this conversation. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”

“Where are you right now?”

“At a friend’s place. And- let me finish dad!” You get louder when he tries to interrupt you. “Former Police Force, now Private Investigator. We have Private Security outside and my apartment is being prepped so I can go back home.”

He grumbles something unintelligible.

“I know you’re worried,” you add, your voice a little softer now that he’s calmed down. “I get that. I don’t want to say I have everything under control, but I do. We’re tackling this head on. I’m going to pull myself out of the case that has the bad guys worried so bad. I can work on this from behind the scenes, give them some pointers, the likes. I won’t be in the line of fire for much longer.”

“How much longer?”

“A few days, tops. I promise.”

“When are you coming back here?”

You sigh. “Trainride has been booked for the end of the month. I’m not changing that. I need this case solved before, or at least as good as done.”

“Fine. I’ll let you talk to your mother now.” You can tell he’s not happy yet, but he’s doing his best.

“Thanks Dad. Love you.”

-

It’s weird, saying goodbye.

Kakuzu doesn’t want to let you go, now less than ever.

His mind and heart are not in sync. He knows you’ll be safe in the hands of his friends. He trusts your decisions - after a little convincing from your side - and Kakuzu knows he’ll be able to do a lot more on his own for this case, knowing you’re safe.

But it’s still almost unbearable to see you leave.

“Hey,” you turn at the door, your hand on the knob.

“Yeah?” He’s taken his perch in the doorway to the kitchen, leaning against the wall as if unable to stand on his own. It’s a tactic, really, because if he doesn’t ground himself right now, he’ll reach out and pull you in.

“I liked spending time with you,” you admit. His heart picks up speed, stumbles up the staircase and drops a few beats.

“What?” He croaks, suddenly unsure of how to act. This is unfamiliar terrain.

“When this is over,” you add, rubbing a hand over your thigh. It’s a nervous habit he’s not yet seen on you. Are you nervous right now? What for? 

“When this is over, I’d like to take you out.”

“Like on a date?” Kakuzu asks, sounding so unbelievably dumb he wants to crack his head open against the wall. 

Your lips quirk up in something like a smile. “Sure,” you tease him. “Assassination is frowned upon. I know a really good italian Restaurant I think you might like.”

He’s quiet, unable to speak. 

His mind and heart are not in sync.

A hesitant “Yes” is trying to slip out of his mouth, but his mind is locked in a panicked frenzy. He remembers the friends he had, back in Takigakure. The girl at the bakery that smiled at him everytime he got his coffee in the morning. Or the friendly neighbour that chatted to him at the mailbox.

All those friendly faces that turned away after the incident. All those smiles that vanished over night.

“Well, I’ll be going then,” you mutter somwhere in front of him. He can’t quite see you through the fog that has crept into his view.

It’s only the door clicking shut that pulls him out of his reverie, the smallest sound that breaks the spell on him.

Kakuzu’s reminded of the first time you stood on his doorstep. He knew you were trouble then.

One step, then another. The door pulls open much too easily.

You’re not quite out of his yard yet, one of Yahiko’s hired guards standing next to the open drivers door, waiting for you.

“Hey,” Kakuzu calls out, his mouth dry. You turn, your lips pulled into a half smile, like the sun peaking over the horizon in the morning. “I hate Restaurants,” he confesses. “Too expensive. You want Italian, I’m gonna make it myself.”

“Is that a promise?” You ask, grinning from one ear to the other.

“What else would it be?” Kakuzu grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll call you tomorrow. You better have some news for me then.”

Your grin is infectious. It crawls around his neck until he’s grinning back at you.

And yes, you have to leave now.

But he knows for sure that you’re coming back again.

- - - 

It takes Kakuzu two agonizing weeks to track Orochimaru down. 

Two weeks of late night phone calls and too much work and not enough sleep.

Most lawyers at your firm are terrified of the case, especially after what you went through. So you bring in additional help. There’s Shizune from the Konoha office, who’s acts a little wonky sometimes, but has no problem staring down the barrel of a gun - something you only know because Raido used to have a crush on her until she scared him to death. And Kurenai, who came back from maternity leave just to see those assholes fall - her own words, not yours.

Still, even with their help it’s slow going, until… until Genma calls you on a sunny Saturday afternoon.

“I have something,” he starts, which is never a good sign.

“Chlamydia or a thought?” You ask back.

“A lead. I have this friend-”

“Oh no.”

“Shut up,” he growls. “And listen, okay? Remember Anko?”

Of course you remember Anko. She’d been in Genma’s class from the day he started kindergarten and while they’ve declared themselves mortal enemies many times, you’re not the only one who’s convinced they’ll end up married. Soon.

“Sure.”

“You also know that Orochimaru used to work in Konoha. Had a little shop and stuff like that.”

“Yeah, back when he was cosplaying as an innocent civilian. What about it?”

“Back then, Anko used to work for him. Part time after school. He used to be careful back then, but she saw some things she wasn’t supposed to see. Some things he doesn’t even know she knows. She’d be willing to go up against him as a witness.”

You start scribbling down notes. “Excellent. Get her in touch with me.”

“Will do,” you can hear him grin. “But make sure nothing happens to her, okay?”

“Will do.”

-

And isn’t it a tale as old as time? 

Because it’s not his latest endeavours that break Orochimaru’s back, but the ones he started with. 

Anko is the first key, Jugo the second.

You meet him in the backroom of a fancy restaurant, one that’s typically rented out for special occasions or celebrity guests. Kakuzu sits at the table with you, dressed in an expensive suit - he’s a little distracting to say the least, but you need to keep up the appearance.

“I can’t help you with that,” Jugo starts, wringing his hands. “He’d kill me for it.”

“He surely would,” you agree, ignoring Kakuzu’s knee that’s nudging yours under the table. You’ve done this before. “But we’re offering you a way out. In cases like this we can make sure that your statement is taken in a safe place. You won’t have to face Orochimaru at all. As soon as your part is done, you’ll be taken to a different, equally safe location. Start a new life. Make friends. If you have family we can make sure they relocate with you.”

Jugo’s face falls. “I only had Kimimaru, but now that he’s dead-” He falls silent.

You give him time to gather himself, reach out over the table to offer him your hand. He stares at it, lying there on the table, palm up.

“I am not just doing this for the case,” you tell him sincerely. “Yes, I want to see Orochimaru behind bars, but I recognize that he has done good. He has taken you in, yes?”

Jugo nods. “And Kimimaru too. He said he’d help him, but his health was too-” He falls quiet again.

“You did what you thought was right. I respect that. But Orochimaru has gone too far. It’s my job to take care of that. If you don’t feel comfortable doing this, I’ll understand. I’ll still try to do my best for you. Figure out a way for you to get out of his reach. I-” You hesitate with a look toward Kakuzu. “We have a friend who owns a Community Center. He can help you too.”

Jugo nods. He hesitates for another moment before he takes your hand in his, swallowing it in his grip. He shakes it a little roughly, clearly taken aback by his own Courage.

“I’ll do it,” he promises. “For Kimimaru.”

-

It’s a little weird, this fake-date date. 

You’re dressed to the nines, knocking the breath out of him everytime you turn to face him.

But you’re also on a mission to recruit the boy sitting next to him, the boy that’s shattering the last illusion of this being real.

It will be real, Kakuzu assures himself. He’s close to catching Orochimaru, he knows. And if they’re playing their cards right, they might bring Danzo down as well.

- - -

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─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The war was over, I was living with my folks

I yelled upstairs, "Hey mom, I'm off to grab some smokes"

And my father called, "Why you need to smoke so late?"

Well I'd lied

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s a weird time for Takara of Hoshigakure. Springtime again, the scent of new beginnings in the air, seeping in the open window with the wind and fluttering an eggshell-white curtain. All that promise of a good day today...and here she is, cowering in the shadow of a bedroom dresser. Konan glances down at her, brow furrowed. “...Are you sure?” the older woman prods. She had received the performer’s assurance before, but there’s ample reason to second guess her decision.

The stranger nods in reply, holding her knees as the other lady, hair as blue as a twilight sky, looms over the odd little thing in the corner of her— that is, Konan’s— bedroom. Orange eyes look up and down, a shinobi of her skill hardly having to twitch them in order to find the signs of weakness she seeks...but who is she to force the girl to stay by her side if she doesn’t want it?

“It’s just a nightmare,” says the mouth underneath starry eyes dulled with fear, and the shoulders even lower shrug in dismissal.

Just a nightmare, Konan thinks. Just a nightmare that for the first time since the other Akatsuki moved in caused the stranger to crawl to a bedroom not hers. Just a nightmare that shook the smaller and newer of Pain’s angels to the bone. Just a nightmare, Konan doubts.

...But it stays just a nightmare, if you so insist. Konan is free to doubt but not at all to judge.

“I bid you well, then,” the first mate of the Akatsuki speaks behind her tall collar, tall heel clicking softly as it steps back. “Stay as long as you need.”

The door clicks closed and the stranger, alone, exhales at the sun leaking through the blinds, unused to the dreams coming during midday naps. She is grateful that she didn’t forget Konan’s promise to offer shelter, a place to perhaps truly be alone, and further grateful that Konan also did not change her mind.

Zetsu, watching, wishes she’d just travel with him through the trees again. What’s wrong, he wonders? Maybe their last intimate encounter was just a bite too harsh.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I had a date

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Sleepy eyes get good rubbings as the performer wanders outside. “I missed you last night, un,” Deidara says, the smirk on his face softer than usual, his brow curled just a bit too much. She sighs; that's not a good sign, he thinks. “Nightmare?” he guesses correctly. To that, a fellow artist he wants to trust bobs her head side to side.

“Yeah, kinda...” she half lies. “I...needed to go somewhere to clear my head. That's all.”

“Oh, well, next time feel free to—” His voice trails, she’s already around the corner, away from the front porch and wandering her garden. A raised pointer finger falls, and he mutters the rest just to himself. “...Take me with you...”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Free from my folks' enslavement

Skippin' along the pavement

To see a brunette, who I'd never met

But I never would forget, how she looked in that dress

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Poke.

…

Poke.

A woman tiredly tilts her head backwards, seeing Hidan resting not only his arms but his chin onto the top of the couch she’s upon. His finger retracts, swinging lazily as he looks down her. His expression is the exact same way— bored and lazy, eyes hooded and pinning those gorgeous purple eyes down her way. He's as difficult to ignore as a puppy biting your ankles; it doesn't really hurt, but it's just a bit too nippy to keep your mind off of.

The performer flickers her best smile she can muster, which is to say it is marvelously unconvincing. “What’s up?” she bites.

“More like what’s up with you?" the reaper counters. Ah shit, she should have known better than to indulge. His eyebrow raises. "You’re usually fine after you knock out n’ come back.”

But she wasn’t, and it put butterflies in her stomach (the bad, anxious kind) to recall why.

Hidan sat in the roots of that tree a long time yesterday, watching the sun set with her in his arms. Just about when he got a nice taste of moist night air soak in from outside...she twitched. Just a little. He turned his head and looked down at her, smirking.

“Cute," one Jashinist murmured as he cradled the other.

But it didn’t stay cute for long.

That night, all of a sudden his angel started thrashing, as if he wasn’t even there. He said her name— nearly screamed the damn word— he held her tighter, but she didn’t stop. It wasn't until he grunted in pain and he began to grasp her to contain rather than comfort that she finally fucking woke up. The inside of his thigh and his left ball still hurt, but half of him is embarrassed to admit that a civilian managed such a thing while the other is a bit hot and bothered remembering she could. He blushes even now, using the finger that poked her cheek to scratch his chin. Little thing like her...hurting him. It'd be a lot more sexy if she did it on purpose, you know? Geez...it really is as if she can only hurt people if she’s not doing it on her own accord. Has to be asleep just to get a guy’s most delicate bits…

Back in the present, the woman bites her lip and looks away, remembering that detail just as well as the silver-haired demon does.

“I’m sorry.”

He glares instantly. “Oh this bullshit again?”

But she doesn’t have anything else to say to that, not even to a tone she’d normally crumble for, a phrase that rings the bell in her brain that makes her want to apologize again and again. She was supposed to be better. Why isn’t she better already? It makes her ashamed.

But Hidan, as she reflexively shies away, makes sure he invades her space more, pushing himself a bit further down the edge of the couch so he’s impossible to ignore. His face hovers above hers, the yu-nin using all of his concentration to try to keep his cool and do things he'd rather not, just for her sake.

“Do you wanna...ugh..." he groans, rolling eyes at himself. "...Talk about it?”

And as much as he hates to be all touchy-feely...that’s also exactly as much as she cannot tell him about it. He’d flip the fuck out and guilt her heart all the more. “...Maybe another time.”

And though he keeps his mouth shut, the reaper doesn’t like that response at all. Keeping a secret from him and letting him know it is an even worse blue-balling than the shove he got in her sleep. He’d be a lot more mad right now if he could forget how loud she screamed, how desperate she seemed…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

How she stuck out her hand and said

"My name is Cecily Smith and I hope you like music

'Cause I've got two tickets for La Traviata"

That's when I said, "I hate opera"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Kakuzu has a weird habit of staying away when you need him most. He did it before too, you know? When she came back from a kidnapping all sullen-like and he was so keen on keeping out of her hair and sight. It wasn't until others helped the lady stabilize that Kakuzu felt he could be around her again, like she's not one of the most beloved and important people she has in this goddamn hideous world. What's wrong?

What's wrong is that the situation reiterates, over and over. Another moment of vulnerability; another instance of risk; another way Kakuzu and Hidan have to pick up the pieces of their reckless passions. The bruise on her shoulder. The psychological breakdown that lasted weeks. The stab in her leg. And now...Hidan had his neck sliced open and she— she, the closest thing to an innocent, to a pure human being in the Akatsuki— had to pick up his severed head and run for her life. Maybe she saw Kakuzu so briefly as her knight in shining armor, standing in the snow and determined. He still huffs to himself whenever the image comes to mind, the naivity before he yet again shattered her with his brutality.

Threads. Slice. Pierce. Pulled human beings apart like they were the ones at the seams.

It's a cycle of trauma he isn't too keen about. He begged for her not to be afraid of him, after all. As if he could fix it the same way they could before, the two zombies held their dead girl in a bed and promised her safety, safety for them all. But soon as she was secure in the care of someone else, he let go and retreated. Now and since, he's about bursting at the stitches. The idea of her drives the old man wild in every sense of the world. Her tenderness...her whimsy...her surprising maturity and capability to empathize with the likes of him. His longing in her absence is more obvious than he would ever like to admit. Hidan figures it's about time that changes. Girl's having a tough go at it, what with the whole one year thing at all and then a fucking monster of a nightmare on top of it, and there's only one other person who he really trusts to help. If only he were more receptive. "Asshole." Kakuzu glares back over his shoulder, but repeats himself: "I won't approach first." "She's waiting for you, idiot. Don't you get it?"

…

Hidan’s skull tilts backwards and his throat releases the most exasperated of sighs. The ancient fucker doesn't get it. "Listen," the zealot tries again, a steadier, more serious tone on his tongue. "Something’s up with her. Whatever it is, she won’t tell me.” He shrugs, looking at Kakuzu’s back as he sits at his little bedroom table and counts his stupid fucking money like it’s more important than him— than her! “I don’t like it either but if anyone else in this dump can get her to listen, should be you. You’ve known her longest ‘sides me, right?”

A hypothetical asked only for the silence to sting Kakuzu just a bit more. The flipping of bills has ceased flitting in his fingertips, and Hidan takes opportunity to do something that maybe...he should have a long time ago.

“I...am to.”

The masked man whips his head around at the quietest sentence Hidan has ever said in his life, brow furrowed and eyes wide. Green gemstones twitch over his partner, and nails painted the same forest shade sit on his shoulder, glossed with the light of his window. Why does he do that? Hidan never picked green for anything else. Not his clothes, especially not his food. Maybe the performer isn’t the only one Hidan has tried to change his tastes for, just to see what it was like.

Almost like a stim, Hidan reaches further now to fluff the stack of green that Kakuzu so regularly prioritizes. Pissing him off is second nature, after all.

“And behind all your pretending you don't care anymore," he continues, still low like he can hardly say it at all, "I know you do. So suck it up and get it over with. Sooner you do, the better."

His hand reaches away, lingering above the older man’s shoulder again before a yu-nin still unused to being tender sharply swings around and leaves.

“...Bye.”

The door shuts at the wrong volume. It’s normally so much louder when Hidan is mad, which means the emotion he feels is something else.

Whatever it is burns the Akatsuki treasurer’s shoulder and suffocates his lungs. Scarred fingers reach to his temple as he looks over his recklessly fumbled and hopelessly undone counting.

Alright. Just ignore the bastard and try again.

Five...ten...fifteen...Twenty…

…

…

His head hangs and the miser sighs nearly as hard as Hidan has, just twice the length and half the volume. Kakuzu hates it when he's right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She laughed and said, "Well lucky for you

That you're with Cecily Smith

Who cares what you are listening to

It's who you're listening with"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She jumps when she sees him. This is all a huge fucking mistake. He shouldn’t have held her, not once ever but especially not on that terrible snowy day. He shouldn’t have let her get so close so shortly after he maimed everything around her and the pathetic severed head of Hidan, ripped people apart so tendons looked like ribbons and drops of blood splashed over her face and skirt. Even now with his stitches covered up, Kakuzu can see her undress him with her eyes and remember how each inch of his skin could kill a man all on its own.

He’s so fucked that he ever imagined a life with her.

It’s a real funny joke that there’s some sort of festival again today as they take care of this excuse of an outing he’ll blame Hidan for forever and ever, just to get alone and investigate her ills. She asked a passerby what it’s called, and they told her with a big grin why there’s paper cranes and balloons and ornament-sized globes of glass sitting in the windows, opalescent in the sunshine. The girl from the stars lives up to her name, big eyes glittery and eager to explore.

“What’s the Bubble Festival?” she asks so innocently with a sharp turn of her head, as if Kakuzu knows everything. As old as he is, though, perhaps it wasn’t the worst bet. Regardless, he shakes his head.

“Never heard of it...that suggests it’s something local.” It all looks so childish after all, not like anything from the other villages he's passed by. It's like a picture book, literal bubbles floating about on the soapy wands of kids, a pallet of pastel rainbows splashed across the decor that lines the streets. Absolutely foreign to him, even when Kakuzu has to pretend he's a normal guy.

But the way the performer hums to that— like the world is so big and wonderful even if it contains whatever the hell shapes shinobi like him... He sighs beneath his mask, watching a bubble idly float across the road and in front of his face.

And then something brushes against his cloak.

“Scuze me!”

The bubble pops just as he blinks, recentering a reflexive glance to the touch from the ground. A small child, no older than four, toddles past from under Kakuzu’s arm. Gears begin to turn. The bright colors...the way every adult in market booths leans out and feigns surprise at the bubbles blown in their face...the nature of this particular festival becomes abundantly clear.

Kakuzu is so deeply out of place that his nearly 100-year-old self doesn't know what to do. His gaze trails after the first little one to have caught his attention.

The two adults watch the child drop to the floor in the middle of this shady town square, a face still with its pudgy baby fat looking up to the performer.

The woman he named Takara isn’t used to seeing other performers in the village. The young man’s smile is wide but soft, happy to be there with an audience so receptive and joyous. Of course he is! Children are so much harder to please than you think they are, at least as a group, but the boy’s a real Pied Piper. He asks the crowd of kids a question— something about if they know the next part or whatever— and they all eagerly raise their hands and squeal in response. And then, out of the blue, Kakuzu feels his cloak tugged yet again— only this time, it isn’t so temporary.

“Daddy!” a six year old cries, so distraught that her eyes are glued shut with tears. She turns her round nose up to the killer, his eyes so wide they start to ache with the effort. Thankfully, he has someone gentler than he to come to his rescue.

“Oh goodness…” the woman coos, pitying but not unkind. “Are you okay...?” The child opens her eyes, gripping the black fabric like her life depends on it.

“Daddy…!” she repeats. It becomes clear: she’s lost her father.

“Oh goodness,” the lady repeats back, and Kakuzu never realized how...sweet she is. Wait, no— of course she is! Just never noticed it to people...outside of the Akatsuki. The love in her is not merely romantic. Motherly…? It hits him into speechlessness, even when his instincts say to nudge the kid away and leave, he's not the brat's dad and not about to help her find him.

“I think we should stay put until he comes.” The woman tilts her head as she kneels next to the little one. “Does that sound okay?” she invites.

The question allows the child to turn the gears in her brain, focus more on reasoning and less on bawling her heart out until she wins the Oscar she so clearly deserves. “I—...uh…” Kakuzu hears a long, ugly snort from a snotty nose into the red clouds that make any sane adult scream in fear. “Oh...kay…”

That’s how they end up on a bench together, Kakuzu, the traveler, and a small child between them, kicking her sandaled feet. The local performer causes the festival to live up to it’s namesake, dipping a circular object into soap and blowing iridescent bubbles all across the tippy-tops of little heads. In response to seeing all the other kids hop and chase the orbs in glee...the child on the bench looks on. Curiosity gets the better of Kakuzu, or perhaps merely a desire to be rid of her:

“Why don’t you join?”

“Huh? Oh...um…” A quick glance to him quickly falls to the other kids. Is this what the woman he named Takara was like? So shy and unsure? “...Waitin’,” she explains, simply, under her breath.

Awfully patient for a kid, Kakuzu thinks. Maybe she’s reasonable enough to talk to, even as young as she clearly is. “For what?”

“Daddy.”

…

An eyebrow twitches, the old man having regretted this conversation. Well, this is awkward. Thankfully that’s just about when finally, another adult enters the scene. It is not, however, quite who they expected.

“Yuki!!!”

The girl perks up to her name, hopping off the bench and running into the arms of her mother, who picks her up. “Where did you go, sweetie? Why did you run off?!”

“Waiting for daddy!”

Oh.

There’s a depth of weariness in the mother’s eyes, the kind that a kid will never really understand— maybe even when they’re an adult. “Oh...daddy. Did...daddy tell you he wanted to...meet you here?”

The child nods eagerly, finally smiling. It somehow makes her mother's relieved smile falter. 

“Well...maybe he’ll see you next time.”

You can tell from her expression there will be no next time. Her father was a shinobi from somewhere far away, and he won’t ever come home again. The most she can do is nod her uncomfortable thanks to the two other adults and return to the remnants of a hopeful life.

Kakuzu overpowers his urge to hold the woman's hand and squeeze it tight.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So we take our seats, her hands are folded in her lap

If not a kiss, then I at least will get a nap

So I close my eyes as the orchestra begins

Then I hear violins

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Time passes, and it’s almost twilight. Bubbles have been discarded for sparklers, the children old enough to hold them raising them high above their heads and pretending they’re fireworks up in the heavens. Kakuzu and the traveler walk by, two bags of groceries and supplies each. The woman’s head cranes, and it makes him stop by her side.

…

But they can’t stay. It makes his heart ache too much, even if it makes hers soar. He walks ahead, and she has to follow.

Music begins to sway in the air from the direction of the bar, the one that was once her workplace. One mercy is allowed; it is only fair to let her look inside. True to his promise to her, Takuya— twin of her former boss— has rearranged the things to his taste while still remembering the legacy of the beloved town figurehead. A painting of his big smile and bushy facial hairs is seen overtop of the newly built stage. Whether it be the performer from the stars or anyone else up there in the future, it’s clear her presence had an impact on these people. That kind of influence, reverence...it feels so impossible right now. It only feels like yesterday that she was hardly able to go outside of her small city apartment. And now she has a legacy...?

The man entertaining children before is there, now playing the spare guitar that was once reserved for her. There’s more kids inside— but furthermore, so are parents. Child and adult alike, they’re all being lullabyed, sung to sweetly so little heads begin to bob and tiny palms cover mouths that yawn. A perfect end to a perfect day. As if to make it all the more sweet, a woman in the room leans over and kisses the cheek of a man next to her, right above the wispy curly locks of their infant son.

“I’m sorry we can’t be like that.”

Her head turns to him in surprise, her expression conveying obvious confusion.

“Don’t make me say it.” Spoken low...pained. It’s more pained than, perhaps, she’s ever seen him. “...You’re a good woman,” he murmurs eventually. “And you’ve seen me. All of me. The worst of it. You’re a good woman…”

A look again inside.

“I can’t give you a normal wifely life.”

She melts. Wife. She’s never had that word said in association with her before. She's worth being one...? Even if he outright stated to try to court her before, the possibility of marriage never struck her as a— perhaps inevitable— outcome. Oh the sentiment... He's so lovely, the performer thinks, but ever his comfort, she opts instead to tell him an assurance.

“That’s okay. I don’t need one. I’m not normal.”

He gives a dark-humored huff, fist clenching. “Placating me…” he deduces. “You don’t have to. I know what I’m meant for in this world. I hope you know you’re not in the same boat.” Her gaze flickers over him, the grimmest sort of smile on her face. 

“No. I mean it. I...I’ll never want a family.”

He looks to her— this woman so attentive and kind to even a stranger's child— in surprise, so she clarifies:

“...Not one...like that.” A cock of the head to gesture towards the little ones inside, the moms and dads who love them. “Kids deserve the world. They deserve attentiveness, understanding, patience. To be a parent...it has to be the only thing you ever want in life. I think that’s what it takes to be a good one." The old man watches her swallow and wonders what besides low self esteem could make her think this; he unfortunately gets his wish.

"I don’t want that," she continues. "I’ve had parents who...didn’t want that." A pause, and she sucks in her shame; it's hard being a grown up, needing to comfort the kid inside who cries and doesn't know why. It's hard to be your own savior when you shouldn't have needed one at all. Strike. Strike. Strike. She remembers their frustrations, still fresh as if imbued physically into her muscle memory and spiritually so she feel small. Kakuzu looks at her, this soul who tries so desperately to shrink and be good and be loved...and suddenly a lot of things make too much sense.

"I was just something they believed they had to do," she whispers. "And I’m not better off for it.”

Calling her a good potential mother doesn’t erase the pain she describes. Not at all.

“Making me a mom...won’t change that,” she summarizes the realization in his mind. “I’ve been called a good potential mom before...but all I hear when people say that is that they think I’ve failed. But who would I be to create a whole new person without being able to give them everything they need? I think that’d be...cruel. You don’t need to lament a life I couldn’t live even without you and the Akatsuki.”

He exhales. Anything Kakuzu was thinking about retorting with is out the window.

“I’m sorry.” He’s never good at this sort of thing, but he means it. He feels a similar way. He’d be an absolutely shit dad. Regardless of intent, he’s gruff, he’s mean, and he’ll traumatize them whether he wants to or not. But he’s old fashioned, raised and harbored by a world that demands conformity. He’s already done so— in a way. He understands money makes the world go round and found his place in it, organizing cash and doing what he can to ensure him and now the girl besides have enough to live. But a family?!

He’s cruel, but not so cruel as to subject kids to a life of wondering if daddy will ever come back, if mommy will stop crying, why daddy is angry and if it's their fault somehow... There's other thoughts, too, that hurt Kakuzu to entertain, heinous things that even his whole life later he could never forget. He vowed to never be like his own father by any means necessary, not to any wife and not to any kids. That much he can agree upon. "...Would you feel better if I was like you?" his treasure asks, waking him up. "A ninja?" This is an absolute non sequetor of a question to anyone who would have dared listen in. To Kakuzu though...it’s like she reads him like a book. "...Yeah," he admits, looking down at the way sparklers and street lights glimmer her stray strands of hair, aware she always prefers the truth. But instead of lament at the answer, he gets a bit of sass…! "Why?" Yes, there's a chuckle on the end of that word...! "Aren't you the strongest anyway? Wouldn't you still be able to kick my ass?" She sees his eyes crinkle, the expression beneath his face cloth halfway between humor and agony at the image she plopped into his mind. Eventually, he sighs; she’s like Hidan. She won’t let this go, even if she doesn’t say so.

"It'd at least give you a shot to run with your life." And with the most bizarre grin, his date calls his bluff: "Would it?" .... .... He regrets telling her from the start how powerful the Akatsuki are in this world, almost as much as he regrets letting her see him kill. The woman begins to stare in the window again, to the place where she learned how to work and he learned how to care for someone. It's weird to see the bar like this after standing inside watching her, night after night...different. But maybe different isn't bad.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And the hair on my neck was rising

A feeling new and surprising

But it wasn't the sound that made my heart pound

No, it was because I found her hand is in mine

And that's where it will stay until they play the final chord

She says, "Were you bored?"

And I say, "I guess it wasn't quite so bad”

It was the best time that I ever had

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It’s just him and her now, two people still lingering in their silly sentimentality and unwilling to let go. The village is silent, the young leaves barely able to flutter with the slight breeze. The wind skitters through greens and finds her skin, sinking into her bones and causing her to shiver. She's enrapturing. The emptiness of the world once so active...it’s like it’s giving him permission to show himself, both physically and emotionally. A gasp barely escapes her as he slowly...begins...to move.

“You...you’re…!”

That’s right. The masks embedded into his flesh are in open air. She’s seen them before, of course. But in public?

And all just to put his cloak around her shoulders. The woman lives up to her name, treasured beyond measure, far past her expectations and shooting to the stars.

“You look about ready to sleep,” he points out, an edge of amusement on his tongue and a stretch in his arm to rest on the bench top and behind her back. She nods, and he offers something even further unbelievable:

“Go ahead." The man so big and scary and handsome leans in with a husky, tempting voice. "I’ll carry you home.”

For someone who just spoke about being unfit for a wife, he sure is romantic tonight. The idea of it...helpless in his arms again not out of necessity but because he wants to hold her...! That just absolutely tickles her heart...

...and pulls forward memories she’s tried to push aside.

“...What?” Kakuzu asks with a concerned glint in his eyes, her hesitation obvious. It's about time she got to the bottom of what she was avoiding since she woke up today.

"I...had a dream about you." And unlike with Konan, Deidara, and even Hidan, she refuses to say 'but.' There's no minimizing the truth to the one this is all about. Upon her inviting silence, he hums questioningly, not quite sure what to make of such few words. “So what....?” People dream all the time after all. The woman shakes her head, though. "I dreamed of you..." the performer tries to clarify as gently as possible. "...Like you were...before.”

What the hell does that mean, he wonders? But her continuation makes it painfully clear:

“The sand was red wherever you stood, and you looked so...mad." Oh.

It should have been so obvious. Her jumping at first seeing him...the fact even the likes of Hidan started to worry... He suddenly feels guilty again, being so close to her in every way right now. "You were killing," she tells him, her gaze begging him to forgive. "You killed until they were all gone." Here and in the dream, he looks her in the eye. Under his mask, the expression might be the same, too. Just like the mirage that stood on her dream's shore, Kakuzu has nothing on his mind besides his love.

"What happened then?" an unrepentant sinner asks.

Kakuzu stands on her beach, blood washed over him like it’s laps of water. The more he stares...the more something softens around his feral eyes. Not entirely...something is reserved just for her. Her lips part, and she gasps.

"You used those...threads...to whip me into you...!" A bosom heaves with racing pulse and heavier breath. "Y-you gripped m-me so tight it...hurt and..." The last detail is so necessary but so guilty. "St-...stripped off m-my clothes..." It can't be helped but to evaluate his reaction to that. The performer is not quite that kind of girl, after all, at least not in real life. She cowers at any sign of potential harm, fears damage, violence, and hate… She’s not the girl who will ask you to be rough.

But even girls dream of things that might never come true. "...I liked it," the mouse of a woman finally squeaks, after denying it since she woke up with a shout and a burning in her stomach. The image of him in her nightmare passes through as she closes her eyes, his invisible embrace making her shiver for a whole new reason. A breath is sucked in to steady herself, and she opens back up her eyes.

...

...

It isn’t quite the same man ahead of her. Instead of high on the thrill of the kill, he’s passive, having been softened by talk of families and admissions of things they don’t deserve. But there’s that same spark in there, a snap and crackle of excitement at being thought of that way.

He would have liked it, too. The tension has to be broken; he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're so surprisingly fucked up, you know." And she does, giving him the softest smile as a man of steel quietly melts, imagining a little thing like her wanting him— ALL of him. No gentle hand-holding, no mincing of words, just his entire self— five hearts and all— claiming her. Marking. Aching.

...

And a thought makes his grin fade. None of those are things that he could see her taking, not without chewing her heart and spitting it back out. He sees it in front of him as easily as she sees her dream: flashes of shock...pain...and worst of all, regret. What little distance between them is maintained even as he wants so much to close in, lest he force his will upon someone so eager to please.

"...Do you want that?” he has to ensure. Beat. Beat. Beat. Between drums of her heart are visions of him, closer and closer, taking her as an object. It excites, of course it does...but reality is different than fantasy. Her hesitation gives him the answer, even before it falls from her lips. "Maybe someday." Maybe someday when she's been loved proper, that is...internally, with more than just hands. It’s best she prepared for him, in the way he deserves, and all that entails. A breath in and out, and then the woman slides closer to the side of the man. A tension leaves as if he was worried she'd never touch him again. "...We'll take it slow," she proposes, though it's less for her sake and more for his. Their hands come together...

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A perfect wife

A perfect life

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

...And his places hers above her head some time later.

“Are you afraid of me?”

A long second as he looms over her. She tugs his mask down, completing the expression on his face. This is the man who tore people limb from limb. This is the man who is so wretched that he knows that no matter how long he lives, he will never have a normal life. This is the man that loved her so much, he saved her life and made them pay so much they'll still scream on their way to hell.

That power could be turned on her any moment.

“...No,” she mutters despite these facts. Her chest feels heavier somehow with his shadow on top, as do her wrists upon his bed even when he hasn't forced any of his weight down. “But...I’m still scared.”

“I need you to tell me why.” It won’t get any further if he doesn’t feel wanted. Kakuzu narrows his gaze, scrutinizing. “If it isn’t me, then what…?”

“I just…” An uncomfortable shift. “...You know.”

“I don’t.” Simultaneously soft and harsh, patient for her but so aware of his short limits. “I can’t read your mind.”

A hand with the texture of leather trails down, as feathery as his tense, muscular arm will allow. A gasp from her lips reminds the man that she’s even softer...lighter...kinder than he’ll ever be.

But he’ll still try. He can still try if she wants him to. If she accepts the kind of monster he is underneath, a swarm of threads and blood ready to explode, leaving gore in his wake with no regrets. Kakuzu feels those beasts in him now, the stitches of his arm beginning to pulse, wiggle ever so slightly like his four extra hearts have minds of their own.

It won’t be long until that’s exactly right. It’s been a long time but he still knows the sensation of their impatience when he feels it, the beginnings of the masks bulging out of his back, eager to break free. A horrible curse of a man finally receives a mercy, a promise as precious as he is unworthy:

“I...I just...want to be good.”

That just won’t do. It’s his turn now to steady his breath, redirect his control lest he overwhelm. Black tendrils that have saved her life by ripping flesh apart now wraps around hers; it’s almost like they are trying to hold her hand. “Stop thinking about being good and start thinking about what you want. I already picked your name. Now it’s your turn to make decisions.”

“I want...you to be happy.”

A chuckle. A softer one as his hair dangles down towards her face, his palms on either side of her head and on the mattress of his room. Just like when she said it to Hidan, it’s not a convincing argument. This is just another way of refusing to take responsibility.

“One more chance. Take your turn, duckling.”

What does she want…? A performer’s duty— nay, her safety— is to please. To make someone else happy really, sincerely blossoms the same emotion in her heart. What is there left if not that…?

The old shinobi watches her eyes shut, a tightness in his chest with the anticipation of her finally starting to think. Just about when he wonders if his treasure isn’t ready for it, lids and lips crack open, a whisper underneath starry eyes.

“I want...you to kiss me.” A flicker of a smile tugs the corners of her lips. “Please.”

A snort leaves his nose as she just can’t help it, can’t leave out that the choice is ultimately his to make. But it’s close enough tonight. He obeys. It’s the least he can do to make it up to her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So I let the music guide me

And Cecily sits beside me

A girl of nineteen, with a nervous marine

Feel her head begin to lean, as the melody soars

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

She’s on his lap, still in her nightgown, and he is still in his pants. Her requests have continued, another kiss, more in different places, and then finally the request he’s waited for so long. His fingers reach up her skirt...gradually...delicately...like he might break her if even his tips pressed too hard. It’s finally his turn— not something offered to him out of submission or a desire to please. It’s finally his turn to make her feel good, to redeem himself even in some small way for every fright she’s felt, every sadness his presence has forced her to endure. The day Hidan licked her inside, the younger man thought he was doing Kakuzu a favor by sucking him off next. An incorrect assumption, as much as the gesture was enjoyed. It just made him all the more eager to enact this release upon their girl, too. But she was so tired, injured and inexperienced. It wouldn’t have been fair...

So it makes sense that he's savoring every second of this long awaited moment.

Even if it’s her being sent to the edge, it’s as if they’re in Hidan’s damn ritual. Every sensation she has echoes into Kakuzu, the anticipatory throbs of her intimate parts traveling from his hand...down his arm...and swimming into his cock. His tendrils, mindless the more he focuses his control on other things, climb her like vines on a fence, just barely squeezing against her plushest areas, feeling...caressing...

"P...please...!" the woman whispers from the back of her throat, head flung back and mouth grimacing. Instead of picking at each other in anxiety, now her nails grip and loosen in frantic, uncoordinated succession upon her source of balance. She won’t even apologize for hurting him— at least not until he’s done. It’s only a problem in so far it distracts him, this knowledge her hold on his body is marking him, stinging his thighs and the spaces between impatient, pulsating masks that want to tear out of him and swarm his girl . It makes him huff, smirking to himself. The only one he’d ever tolerate being hurt by…

He sinks his lips in again to her neck, his free hand holding her around the back not out of necessity— no, his coiling stitches are there for that— but out of pure possession.

All that matters is she rides the ecstasy he pulls out of her, in and out like a tide.

“P-please—!” his delicate prize murmurs. He continues his diligent work.

In and out.

In and out.

"Please!"

The dragon who wants to hoard the princess like gold pays his toll and obeys her command.

In-

“A-AH!”

...And oh so gradually...out.

She gasps a word, a stutter so sweet and hushed so as to not be too loud, disturb the others in her house with her pleasure, and something slick makes the skin between his knuckles dripping wet.

It’s so nice that for a second Kakuzu believes maybe he’s not such a bad thing for her after all. Not if it makes his name on her quivering breath sound so divine.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And though it was real, it doesn't feel like it could be

That night when you said to me

That I've got two tickets for La Traviata

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Dark, long hair whips at the sound of the door opening. In an instant, his body is over hers and he bares his teeth, a lion ready to kill to keep what is his. The cause of this interruption doesn't care, though, and Kakuzu swears in his mind about how daft the bastard is.

“Hey, Kakuzu? How’d it—? ...Oh.”

The named man glares at the intruder even harder once they lock eyes, but thankfully it’s the only other person on earth who he’d let see him— her— like this. One tattooed arm rests in front of the sleeping woman protectively, Kakuzu raising himself up from the bed just enough to show the fellow immortal his unhappy face.

Despite the warning, Hidan responds not by closing the door behind him. He flickers a smile— both part of his usual teasing and a new sort of nervousness. Turns out Kakuzu's horny, lovesick ferality can elicit both from a likewise horny, lovesick, and feral man.

“Did she...take it okay...?” he prods softly. The talk Hidan anticipated between the performer and Kakuzu, that is. “Though I guess it musta’ if you ended up like this.”

The old man sighs, using his free hand to stressfully comb back his hair. This silver-haired asshole… Every tentative step closer makes Kakuzu second guess more and more. She told him she’s not normal...and she said that’s okay. As Hidan begins to reach his hand to touch the sleeping woman’s face, the more the stitched man strangely begins to accept it.

“We’ll all be fine.”

“We all?”

It was an omission he didn’t mean to give. Kakuzu sighs. In one swift movement, he throws the blanket open. “Just get in the bed already.”

“Huh?” Oh… Then he gets it. He gets the kind of smirk the taki-nin usually hates, the kind where he's right and gets the satisfaction. But he was the reason Kakuzu is even in this position right now; guess Hidan's earned being smug. “Well...if I’m bein’ invited…” the reaper teases.

Another cloak of clouds drops to the floor and another killer gets on the other side of the stranger from the stars...though he takes a second to double check something:

"You want me to blow you again, old man?"

A roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Kakuzu declines the offer. Hidan has no price to pay to be here with them. The younger shinobi does something Kakuzu has only seen when their girl is awake: Hidan beams.

The second man then climbs into bed, them both facing her as unconscious fingers curl the sheet beneath them, and they hear the sound of her slightest sigh as the warmth of the blanket returns over her skin, multiplied by the new body nearby. His arm, too, comes around to brush against Kakuzu's and they both hold her close, following through from the promise on the day they did this very same thing, sandwiching her on an inn bed after the worst things happened.

“We’re just fine,” Hidan murmurs his half of the promise.

“You’re safe,” Kakuzu mumbles what is his share. A silly thing to say since she’s asleep...but maybe it’ll make her dreams of him less worrisome.

The girl from the stars who died to get here, and the horrible dregs humanity coughed up and left behind...somehow they’ve made a heaven out of hell. It isn’t conventional. Jashin damn it, it isn’t even as good as they could make it...but in the end, it’s still theirs.

A little fucked up family of their own.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Life is not the things that we do

It's who we're doing them with

Heat pulsated throughout your entire body, your heart thumping a little too fast and you were not sure if it was because of your strong arousal or just nerves as you lay underneath Hidan. His purple eyes now dark with lust, admiring the needy look on your pretty face as he slowly rubbed the tip of his fat cock along your wet sex, lubricating his dick with your juices before slowly pushing the head in, tearing down what was left of your hymen, mercilessly stretching you open. “Fuck!”, you winced in pain, burying your head into Hidan's shoulder while digging your fingernails into his back. “Ahhh fuck yes! You’re so fucking tight baby. Kakuzu got you soaking wet for me”, Hidan growled into your ear. He ran his hand into your damp curls, grabbing a fistful of hair before roughly tugging your head backwards. “Let me see your face baby” , he grunted, still pushing himself a little deeper into you. Slowly he kept going, tearing your walls as he painfully stretched you open, ignoring your little cries with heavy pants at how tight your warm walls were around him. He didn’t stop kissing your hot cheeks, sweat dripping from his forehead as he fought to keep himself from roughly ramming into you, your tight heat making it all too intense for him. Finally he stopped, an impatient growl leaving his mouth onto your lips as he gently nipped and sucked on them, distracting himself from the difficult task at hand. This had to be one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life. “Baby, you’re so tight, open up for me please. Just relax, the worst is almost over, I know it hurts but you need to open up for me babe”, he spoke between kisses trailing his lips down your neck, softly sucking and biting. You whined out in broken whimpers, tears falling down and wetting your cheeks and ears. Your hands were now gripping his hard biceps, your fingernails digging deep enough to draw blood. He growled at the pain, grabbing your hands and fimly pinning them above your head. “Babyy, I’m almost there, just a little more”, he grunted, scooping your ass up in a firm grip, slightly lifting it off the bed to push himself further into you. Your hips finally met his and even though he was not fully nestled in you he was content with how deep he was...for now. “Hidan”, your voice barely above a whisper, grimacing in pain as he came up from your neck to silence your whimpers in a slow and deep kiss. You were very stretched out on his cock, the fiery burn slowly beginning to subside, and you kept your eyes shut, focusing on the wonderful feel of Hidan’s warm tongue in your mouth. Letting go of your wrist, he brought his hands beside your head to grip the sheets, groaning into your mouth as he slowly started moving his hips in deep circles, helping you adjust to the new fullness you felt and before long you were also softly moaning into his mouth. “Fuck”, Hidan broke the kiss, purple eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pulled out all the way to the tip before burying himself a little deeper into you, repeating the motion three times before you arched your back at the sudden jolt of pleasure you felt along with the pain. The way he stroked your insides was starting to feel much too good and you wrapped your arms around his back, hands desperately caressing his hot skin as your moans grew louder and louder. “That's it baby girl”, Hidan groaned, his breath fanning against your lips, his eyes glued to your own, “You like the way my dick feels stretching you out huh? Fuck baby! Shit you're so fucking tight”.

You were now a moaning mess, the slow familiar build of pleasure forming in your tummy forcing you to needily buck your hips up to meet his steady thrusts. You needed much more if you were ever going to get to fill up the pit of pleasure deep in your core. Hidan sensing your need for more chuckled, “Aww baby you want more? Is this what you want”, he teased, watching you throw your head back into the pillow, your mouth an o shape at the new angle of his hips as he picked up the pace, a series of loud moans leaving your lips as he pushed himself even deeper into you, his forceful strokes pushing you up the bed, quickly bringing you closer to the edge. “Ahhh! Fuck HNngg!”, you babbled, now screaming as little waves of intense pleasure pulsed right through, quickly adding to the build up in your tummy. You felt yourself dangerously nearing your climax as Hidan continued to thrust into your tight walls. You buried your head into his shoulder, your fingers digging into his back, as the pleasure now completely possessed you. One minute you were anticipating your orgasm, the next minute you were drowning in it. Your eyes shut tight as your body violently shook beneath him, deafening screams filling up the room, your pussy clenching around Hidan as he held you. He waited for you to calm down, his dick still deep inside your wet pussy as you creamed around him, your juices completely soaking the sheets, Hidan and yourself. “Ahh fuck. Are you done?”, he spoke through gritted teeth, desperately fighting his urge to come deep inside you despite your relentless clenching around him. You were way too tight for him to pull out so he was subjected to pushing through the way your heat deliciously squeezed him, coaxing him to come right then and there but he fought through it and immediately pulled out once you had loosened up enough for him to escape the agonising pleasure before he too came. He noticed how far gone you were, still squirming and whimpering in his arms, the intensity of your orgasm slowly subsiding. He instinctively ran his hand along your curvy frame, one arm still firmly wrapped around you to calm you down, placing butterfly kisses along your forehead as he lay with you on top of him. He looked over at Kakuzu who still sat at the edge of the bed, his dick painfully hard in his hands at the real life porn taking place in front of him. “I thought you weren't going to be gentle?”, he spoke above your whimpers. “I had no choice with how fucking tight she is”, Hidan replied. Deciding that you had had more than enough time to recover he placed you back on the bed, turning you over onto your tummy before positioning himself behind you. You didn't think much about his actions until you felt the head of his dick rub along your pussy, moaning as he rubbed it along your sensitive clit, before he slowly pushed it all the way into you. “Oooohhh, Hidan”, you moan out loud at the feeling of being stretched out once again. You pushed back against him, wanting more. Hidan immediately set to an unruly pace, your need for him to please you driving him crazy. All you could do was scream out loud, “Fuck...Yes! Hidan please!”, you were able to yell before you were completely possessed by the pleasure. Hidan’s deep moans mixed with yours as he felt you nearing your peak, your tight and wet walls clenching around him, threatening to milk him dry. He continued his onslaught, relentlessly stroking your walls until your orgasm sparked through your body like fireworks, shooting colourful sparks of pleasure up to your head and down to your toes, creating a fire whenever they landed.You came just as hard as you did the last time, your body a quaking mess beneath Hidan, his strong arm wrapping around to hold you together as your orgasm brutally tore through you. Hidan kept his arms around you, holding your squirmy body still so he could continue his fast and rough pace. His legs now slightly shivering, he came with a loud moan, a series of curses and praises leaving his mouth as your tight walls milked him inside of you. “Mmmm fuck baby. You feel

way too damn good”, Hidan growled in your ear, his hips coming to a slow before collapsing right on top of you. His weight and warmth surrounding your hot body, acting as an anchor to help you catch yourself amidst the storm of pleasure that currently racked your body.

Hidan now lay on his back, having long climbed off of you to hand you over to Kakuzu, who was now close behind you. Small muffled whimpers fell into the bed beneath you as you slowly came down from your high. Kakuzu brought his arm around you, placing his large hand around your neck, his beefy arm snuggled between your breasts, pulling you up to sit on your knees. You whined out loud, too fucked out to care about what he would do about it. You were just too tired and you needed sleep. He wrapped his free arm around your waist to pull you up onto his lap, pulling you close until your back was snug against his muscular chest. His knees were now spread out beneath yours, spreading yours further open to expose your dripping wet cunt to Hidan, who lay on his back watching your womanly figure squirm in his partner's firm hold. You were sure in for a treat he thought, his dick already hardening from the sinful sight in front of him. With one hand on your hip Kakuzu came up onto his knees, his body lifting you forward. He took a hold of his thick member, grinding it along your wet folds as he lubricated it in the soaking mess that was between your legs. The tip deliciously rubbing along your sensitive clit, overstimulating you into a fit of whines and whimpers. “Hnngh ahhh nooo...t- too….mmmm!”, you whined out, your body like jelly in his hold. You had no energy to fight him, being able to do nothing but shiver and moan in his arms, taking whatever it was he was going to give you. “Mmmm princess. It's been a while, but I hope you're ready for me”, his husky voice muffled into the kisses he planted down your exposed neck as you rest your head against his shoulder. “I-I- oooohhhhh!”, your whine quickly became a loud moan as he gently pushed the tip of his cock through your tight entrance. His large hand that left your neck now fondled your breasts, pulling and twisting at your nipple, making you scream as his other hand gripping your hip, pushed you further down onto his big dick. He was just as thick as his partner but he reached far deeper into you, forcing you to scream and arch your back. He pulled you against himself, pushing you up with the thrust of his hips before pulling you back down on him, your ass making loud clapping sounds as it met his pelvis. Just like that he fucked you, blissfully pounding into your heat at a slow but rough pace, his large cock hitting all the right spots as the tip kissed your cervix. You screamed out as Kakuzu contiued to fuck you, his heavy panting in your ear forcing your orgasm to near much quicker than you anticipated. “C-Cum! Uhhhh! Kaku- aaahhhh”, you babbled between screams, completely unable to do anything but take the orgasm that was nearing you. The first intense jolt of pleasure opened a gate to the ocean of sharp pleasure that threatened to overwhelm your already overwhelmed state in long, sharp sparks of intense pleasure. He held you tight, as you violently shook in his hold, juices squirting out your pussy and soaking the sheets as well as your tummy and boobs along with the gorgeous man who fucked you from behind. “Yes princess, just like that. Fuck you're such a good girl for me, princess, I’ll let my good bunny come as much as she would like all over my dick baby”, he groaned in your ear as he carnally fucked you through your orgasm, dragging it for as long as he could with the slow and steady thrust of his strong hips. Tears ran down your warm cheeks, another orgasm quickly threatening to pull you under the next wave of pleasure just before you could even come down from the first one he unleashed on you. It was all too much for you, you felt like you were literally breaking apart in his arms as he impatiently pushed you into your next orgasm, your body now cramping from the way it violently shook at his careful ministrations. “Princess! You look so cute coming on my cock, I want to see you come again”, he growled in your ear before pulling out of you, the loss of fullness making you squeal before he manhandled you into a position that suited him. With your back pressed into

the bed and your shivering legs slung over his broad shoulders he stretched them wide open as he sunk further into you until his lips reached yours and he devoured your needy mouth in a kiss that somehow anchored you through the orgasm that still washed over you. He didn’t even let you relax like Hidan did, Kakuzu plunged deep inside of you in one swift stroke that pushed you up the bed. “Holy Jashin, Fuck!”, Hidan grunted as he watched his partner fuck you into blissful pleasure. Kakuzu groaned at how wet you were, his strokes causing the squelching noises that joined your sweet sounds in the air. He fucked you earnestly as he chased his own orgasm, one hand reaching down to massage your clit and the other reaching to grab a handful of the sheets next to your hair. As tender as your throat was, the harsh strokes Kakuzu delivered to the paradise you provided forced you to continue screaming, being overstimulated beyond your limit. You felt Kakuzu’s breath hitch as he fucked you faster, his own orgasm about to burst out as he impatiently rubbed your clit, hand flicking fast as it roughly stimulated you, forcing you to violently cum around his fat cock like he made you do the last time. His chiseled back was raked in fresh scratch marks, some even bleeding as you grip harder into him, anchored onto him for dear life to get you through this orgasm. Your walls clenched tight enough to force Kakuzu to give up his will, your pussy milking him as he held you tighter, groaning in your ear as he came deep inside you. “Princess, you're doing such a good job coming for me”, Kakuzu heavily panted into your ear, your body now limp as you slumped into the bed, still shaking as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his head into your neck, planting gentle kisses, waiting for your body to relax enough to maneuver you into another position.

Kakuzu and Hidan would use you just like this, the sight of you messing all over the bed as they fucked you, being their sole motivation to watch you do it again, relieving themselves with your body. You probably wouldn't be able to function properly for the next day or two but tonight no matter how overstimulated you grew, you weren't going anywhere as they fucked you over and over, throughout the night. Kakuzu and Hidan would make sure you were debt free tonight.

The message came without a name.

Unknown Number

My band will follow us.

You stared at it, the words heavy and absurdly casual for the way they knocked something loose inside you. The beauty mask you’d been wearing slipped for just a second. It didn’t matter that you hadn’t saved his number. You knew exactly who it was from.

You didn’t reply. What was the point? You’d told yourself enough times already , if you told Eren you were uncomfortable, he wouldn’t listen.

Sure, you typed anyway.

The dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

Unknown Number

Just tell me if you’re not comfortable enough. I’ll tell them. I’ll be your voice when I talk to them.

You blinked at the screen. You didn’t think this man had that kind of manner in him.

You

No. It’s fine. It’ll only make things obvious between you and me.

Unknown Number

But we need to act 24/7, Even in a fucking secluded place, they’ll hear us.

You

Isn’t that the point of a reality show?

Somewhere, far from you, Eren exhaled sharply , frustration curling in his gut not entirely sure if it was at you or at himself.He remembered the way Jean’s jaw had tightened when the subject first came up.Mikasa had been the one to start.

“Eren, we need to talk. Now. And don’t bring Y/N.”Armin had chimed in soft-spoken, “Yeah. Like right now.” And Jean was as loud as ever. “Where the hell are you?”

The words had piled on, questions dressed as accusations, accusations dressed as concern.

A few hours before he came back home , Eren remembers how the rehearsal room felt heavier than usual, like the amps themselves were holding their breath. The air was sharp with stale coffee, dust, and the faint electric hum of instruments left plugged in too long.

Jean was planted at the door like a security guard who’d been given bad news, his phone in hand. Mikasa stood beside him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Armin sat on the old couch, quietly plucking at his bass like background music to a fight scene.

Jean didn’t even say hello. “What the hell is this?” He thrust his phone toward Eren , an infamous shot of him and you kissing under stage lights.

Eren glanced at it once before leaning back in his chair, smirking lazyly. “Looks like free marketing to me.”

Mikasa’s voice cut through the room. “You’re not actually dating her.”

Eren tilted his head. “Why not?”

“Because,” Jean snapped, “you were talking shit about her music last month. And now suddenly she’s your—”

“My girlfriend,” Eren interrupted, grinning like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Exactly. She is.”

Jean’s jaw clenched. “Do you really think me and Mikasa hook up? That’s why you kissed her in front of us? That’s why you want to fuck with this reality show?”

Eren didn’t flinch. “You can hook up with her, I don’t care.”

Armin groaned, tossing his bass pick onto the couch. “Okay, that’s it, Eren Yeager.”

Mikasa’s voice went sharp. “Keeping her close? You don’t own her. And you’re not convincing anyone here, so just stop—”

“No.” Eren leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You think I’d go on live TV and let them run me through their scripted drama without backup? She’s my anchor in this. My girl.” He let the words hang like smoke, watching Jean’s jaw tick again.

Jean shook his head. “You don’t get to drag people into your little PR stunts just because you’re bored.”

“Bored?” Eren laughed, sharp and sudden. “Yea…maybe I just want a good fuck after I’ve been locked up in Rehab”

“Eren , Are you on crack? Like again….?” Mikasa rubbed her forehead as a sign of frustration

“No , I just smoke some weed”

“Hey! Then let us come with you,” Armin said, voice like concrete. “You’re not going to that island alone.”

“I’m not alone,” Eren said, that same sly grin curling at the edges. “I’ve got my sweet little girlfriend.”

Armin set his bass aside, finally speaking up. “We’re all going. Maybe we’ll even get some good tracks out of it.”

Eren leaned back again, letting the chair creak. “I’ll ask her.”

“Why do you need to ask her?” Jean demanded.

“Because she got dragged into this mess,” Eren said simply. “And unlike some people, I’m not making decisions for her.”

That shut them up for a moment. Eren wasn’t sure if they were buying it or just regrouping, but it didn’t matter. They’d made up their minds.

Jean’s voice was final. “Fine , do whatever you want . You make me want to smoke the bucket of weed man!”

Eren only smiled, because whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. He’d already won the round.

Now his job just to convince you to be part of his tools , he stared down at his phone trying to hit you with text again ,

Eren

You’ll make your last performance this weekend, right? Lollapalooza? he finally typed.

You

Yeah. How about you?

Eren

No. We’re on hiatus. No album coming up. And we only have one single…for now

You

Oh, I see then.

Eren

Can I come? Watch you perform?

You

I thought Eren Yeager didn’t like glittery, girly music.

Eren

Sweetheart, it’s just for the act. It would be nice if you give me one of your stupid friendship bracelets.

You

Stupid? Just like when you throw up after 1 show

Eren

Psshh, yeah, whatever, girly pop. Invite me to your VIP section. Let’s throw an act so big Mikasa and Jean lose their shit.

You

Oh? So that’s why they want to follow us? To watch over us?

Eren

Probably.

You

Fine. I’ll give you access. Hange will drop it in Levi’s postbox.

Eren stared at the screen for a long while after the conversation ended, the corner of his mouth lifting.

It was nothing . Just a simple exchange, a few words tossed back and forth. But there was something in the way you’d agreed so easily, something unpolished and warm that made his chest tighten.

“Quit it Son of Yeager , She’s just a part of your game” He blew the smoke of cigarettes into the air ,

The VIP tent felt like it was holding its breath.

Dim light bleeding through the seams, faint vibrations from the stage thrumming up the chair legs. Eren sat with one leg thrown over the other, joint pinched lazily between his fingers, smoke coiling around his jawline.

He told himself it was just to kill the nerves.

Not nerves about her , never that just the swarm of cameras, the strangers’ eyes angled in his direction like they were waiting for him to crack. Every time he shifted, he caught the faint glint of a phone lens. Someone was already livestreaming him sitting still.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.But he found himself waiting for you to come up on stage.

A pop concert wasn’t in his rotation. There’s Glitter, choreo, love songs for girls who still put stickers on their water bottles that weren't his thing. But somehow he was here, joint burning low, pretending the whole scene didn’t feel like a trap he’d walked into willingly.

Then the lights outside dimmed.

A voice, tinny and theatrical, burst through the speakers like it was being piped from a black-and-white TV.

“Prrrimaaaveraaa, ladies and gentlemen! We present to you…”

The crowd’s scream was instant.

Eren didn’t move at first , but then you stepped into the light.

You walk out , wrapped in a black bodysuit that clings like a second skin sleek high at the hips. The sleeves hang off her shoulders in a way that feels almost careless, but he knows nothing about her stage presence is an accident.

The boots are knee-high, the heels sharp enough to kill. Her hair falls [ describe whatever you want here ], catching the light with every turn.

This is his first time seeing you in a pitch black and that makes Eren not even realize he’s leaning forward.

She’s all glitter and fire, the kind of beauty that isn’t just looked at , people need to inhale it. Every note slides through the air like honey, pulling the crowd closer. She moves across the stage like she owns it, hips rolling, voice soaring, making the massive arena feel like the most intimate room in the world.

And Eren… he can’t stop staring.

The beat rolled in and you slid into the first verse of Busy Woman.It wasn’t the music that pulled his attention. It was you.Halfway through the second line, your gaze locked on his Like you’d found him in the crowd and decided he wasn’t going to get away tonight.

Then you hit it:

“I don’t really want your bitch ass anyway!”

And you didn’t just sing it. You rolled your eyes, right at him.The kind of move that would be clipped, posted, captioned, and replayed with a hundred different hashtags before the set even ended.

His jaw tightened.

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t even embarrassing. It was the fact that he knew how the internet worked and this? This was the kind of attitude the vultures would love to pick apart.

But before he could sit with that thought, you shifted again.Your voice softened, turned playful, and the next line hit like you’d saved it just for him.

“Busy woman… unless you call tonight.”

You gave him a sweet innocent wink , then a kiss . You blow a kiss right in his direction.

The crowd lost its mind.

The camera panned instantly, catching the exact second Eren Yeager’s mask slipped just enough to show it , green eyes locked on you, breath stalled, something unspoken pressing up against his ribs.The moment was gone as quick as it came, swallowed by the next verse.

A few hours just passed and it’s the end of your show ,

“Thank you, Barcel! Love you!”

Your voice spilled out over the crowd, bright and sweet, your smile catching in every lens trained on you. The stage platform began to lower, your silhouette shrinking as you slipped out of view.

From the VIP tent, Eren was already on his feet. He didn’t even finish the joint; he just flicked it down, grinding it under his boot as he started weaving through the rows. A few phones caught him moving, a tall frame cutting through sequins and designer jackets, ignoring every “hey, watch it” that came his way.

He didn’t even know what he wanted to , It’s either he want to strangle you for rolling your eyes at or kiss you until the taste of your lip gloss drowned out the sound of your name being screamed from the crowd.

Backstage was chaos , crew hustling gear, lights swinging on their rigs, security barking orders , but there you were.

Fresh from the stage. The crowd’s roar still hummed faintly through the concrete walls, but it was your smirk that drowned everything else out.

You saw him coming. Of course you did.

Long strides through the narrow corridors lined with crates of cables, racks of glittering costumes, crew members darting past with headsets and clipboards. Every sound , The hum of the generators, the dull thump of bass from another stage , You fell away when his gaze caught you in the hallway.

“Enjoy the show?” you asked, the trace of a smirk curling your mouth.

He didn’t answer right away. Just closed the distance until the sharp scent of his cologne and the faint burn of smoke edged into your breath.

“You’re lucky you’re hot,” he said, voice low, each word unhurried like he was savoring them,

“otherwise you’d be six feet under right now. What was that out there? Rolling your eyes at me, then giving me a sweet little kiss?”

Before you could throw back something smug, his hand slid to your waist and in one motion he had you pinned lightly against the concrete wall. Not rough enough to hurt, but enough to remind you exactly who was standing in front of you.

The distant noise of the festival seemed miles away. You could feel the heat of him, the faint rasp of his breath, the way his thumb traced on top of your hip like he was deciding what to do next.

“You keep playing with fire like that, sweetheart…” he murmured, voice dropping low enough for only you to hear, “…don’t get shocked when it burns.”

You were still catching your breath not from the performance, but from Eren’s hand still pressed against your waist, his frame caging you against the cold wall backstage. His eyes hadn’t moved from yours, and the heat between you was thick enough to choke on.

“Oh really?…That’s so scary…” You said slowly, brows climbing.

“Y/N, you’re supposed to be getting ready for the reality show… You and Eren need to practice… Oh wow…”

That’s when Hange rounded the corner, humming to herself, clipboard tucked under her arm. She froze mid-step. Her gaze darted between you two like she’d just walked in on a crime scene.

You and Eren stayed silent, still locked in that wordless standoff.

“What part is this?” Hange finally asked, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was fighting the urge to laugh.

Eren finally stepped back, dragging his hand off your waist like he was annoyed to let go. “It’s the part where we fu— I mean, kiss.”

Hange snorted. “You’re going to hell.”

Eren shot you a glance, one that wasn’t a request so much as a command: Follow me. He didn’t wait for an answer, just started walking, forcing you to trail him down the quieter stretch of the corridor until the festival noise was a muffled hum.

“Hey! Y/N! Where do you want to gurl!?”

“I will be right back Hange-san!” You shout while keeping the pace of Eren’s fast step , Hange sigh and bring her fingers to pressed her glasses on her nose-bridge

“Fine gurl! Only for 5 minutes!”

Later , Eren stopped in front of a laptop someone had left open in the green room, the livestream replay already looping. The screen was filled with chat bubbles flying so fast they were a blur.

@primagirl_89: GOSH SHE’S NOT PLAYING??? 💅🔥

@popjusticefan: IS SHE REALLY DATING THAT RAT!? 🐀💔

@bubbleteebabe: NO WAY OUR GIRL IS IN LOVE??? 😭

@micdrop_moments: WHAT. WAS. THAT.

@stanaccount007: Y/N GET BEHIND ME — THAT RAT WILL RUIN YOU. 🛡️

@chaoticpopstan: HELP WHY DID HE LOOK KINDA… HOT???

@earringfetishclub: pause at 1:32… his FACE??? 🤯

@glitterydefense: you guys don’t get it this is ENEMIES TO LOVERS in REAL TIME.

Eren leaned over your shoulder, reading along, and scoffed. “Rat?”

You didn’t look up from your screen. “Well, you do have that scruffy alley-cat vibe.”

You angled the screen toward him, showing a fresh scandal thread already brewing:

“Jean x Mikasa??? Are they real???”

“No way, he’s totally into her. You can see it in the drum cam.”

“So….? They don’t want to admit they’re dating or…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make them.” Before Eren could respond, his phone buzzed violently against the table.But he ignored it , he just sat back, still watching you with that too-intent gaze, before his voice dropped low.

“How about your parents? Still asking you to get married?”

You rolled your eyes, lips curling in a wry smile. “Hmm… they’ve slowed down a little bit. Maybe they’re just glad I finally have a boyfriend.”

That made him pause. “Psshh… you never had a boyfriend?”

“Rarely,” you replied, deliberately vague.

Ting! Ting! Ting!

The screen lit up with name after name from The Band of Titans group chat.

“I think they're finally going to believe it,” you said, leaning over to look at his phone.

Eren’s mouth curved into a slow, wolfish smile. “Well…” he drawled, locking eyes with you,

“…this is just the beginning.”

“Don’t you think so?” his voice dropped lower, almost a whisper but heavy enough to make your chest feel tight.

“You’re letting them come. Maybe we don’t just share glances or touches anymore… maybe it’s something more than that.”

He didn’t move fast just enough to close the space between you, his hand brushing the side of your waist, his breath warm and slow like he had all the time in the world to get what he wanted. He was looking straight at your lips now, tilting his head slightly, and for a second the rest of the tent didn’t exist.

Five minutes. That’s all it had been , five minutes alone with him, away from the lights, away from the cameras. Enough for the air to change, enough for you to almost forget why you were here in the first place. He wasn’t just close . He was pulling you in without touching you fully, and you hated how easy it was to stay.

“Y/N!”

Hange’s voice broke it. Calling you from the other side of the tent, reminding you this little bubble you were in wasn’t going to last.

You let out a small breath, your hand pressing against his chest just to put space between you. His heartbeat was steady under your palm and he didn’t move away, his eyes still holding you there.

“Hey,” his tone was teasing but his gaze stayed on you, “where’s my kiss, honey?”

You gave him one last glance, stepping back toward the lights. “Later, rattt!!”

He stayed exactly where you left him, still watching, still smiling like he’d already decided that “later” would come sooner than you thought.

Y/N was lying flat on her hotel bed, the ceiling light dim and warm, Hange pacing back and forth with a folder in her hands, talking about the schedule like a radio stuck on the news channel.

You weren’t even really listening , you could still feel it. The way Eren’s breath had been close enough to catch on your lips, the way his hand had been heavy on your waist. He had almost kissed you again. No cameras, no audience. Just the two of you.

“You will only focus on the reality—Y/N, my dear, are you okay?”

Hange stopped mid-sentence, finally noticing the faraway look in your eyes. She sat down beside you, concern softening her voice.

“Yeah… I’m fine. I’ve never been on a reality show before, and I’m kinda… alone.”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll be there—”

The door slammed open like the universe was allergic to sincerity.

Ymir and Historia burst in, Sasha behind them carrying a mountain of snacks.

“LET’S DINE IN!”

Within minutes, the room smelled like chips and soda. Cards were scattered across the floor, laughter bouncing off the walls. You let yourself sink into the chaos for a while, until—

“So what’s up with Eren? Did you fuck him?” Historia asked casually, like she was asking what you had for lunch.

“Oh my god, he must smell terrible,” Ymir added without missing a beat.

You groaned. “No…”

Historia’s eyebrow arched.

Sasha leaned in. “Mannn… are you really dating him?”

“I saw you getting into his car that day,” Historia pressed. “Where did you actually go? And the kissing?”

You wanted to tell them everything, but the deal between you and Eren sat heavy in your chest. You sighed. “Man, we’re just… playing.”

“Sooo… it’s a situationship?” Historia grinned.

“Probably. What? You think Eren Jaeger’s into lovey-dovey stuff?”

“But you are, Y/N,” Historia said, sharp as ever. “You romanticize everything. Everyone who knows you knows that. You crave real, genuine love. You’re not someone who would get into this kind of thing.”

Shit. Historia got you there.

“But I did, didn’t I? This reality show just… trapped me into it.”

Hange, sitting off to the side, looked guilty. She reached over, patting your back gently.

“It’s only for one month, okay? After that, I’ll cut off all my business with the Band of Titans’ manager. I promise you, Y/N.”

“Whatever your relationship with Eren is, don’t you dare fall for him. Like, for real,” Ymir warned.

“Even if he has a big dick,” Sasha chimed in with a mouthful of chips.

“BROOOOOO!!”

The room exploded with laughter, but you just smiled faintly, tucking that thought away.

Because the reality show would start in two days—and you had no idea if you were ready.

The sliding doors of El Prat Airport opened, and the familiar chaos of paparazzi flashes hit instantly , white light popping like fireworks. The headlines were already spreading online before you even cleared the curb:

Y/N is not heading to the live recording of ‘Love Island’ — but where is she going?

Our pop princess in oversized sunglasses, leather jacket, and a scarf that probably costs more than your rent.

The way she walks like she owns the runway? Fashion airport content unlocked.

Sasha, your stylist, walked ahead with the calm confidence of a woman who had faced this circus a hundred times before, blocking some cameras with her giant tote bag. Hange, your manager, stayed close to your side, her expression unreadable but her grip on your carry-on firm.

No sign of Levi. No sign of the Band of Titans. If they were even on the same flight , which you doubtedthey must’ve used a private terminal.

The thought made your stomach twist. Were they already at the island? Or maybe they were taking some rockstar-exclusive route just to avoid you.

“God, your jacket’s eating up Twitter right now,” Sasha muttered, scrolling her phone while still walking like she could dodge a flashbulb blind.

“They’re calling it ‘Mob Wife in the Mediterranean.’”

Hange glanced at her watch. “Security will take us through the VIP gate. Once we’re inside, no cameras.”

The flashes grew harsher the closer you got to the VIP gate. You could feel the reporters closing in, their mics shoved into your space, questions spitting like machine gun fire.

“Y/N! Is Eren Yeager waiting for you on the island?”

“Are you two secretly engaged?”

“Did he write the song ‘Bloody Valentine’ about you?”

You kept walking, chin up, sunglasses shielding everything. But then one camera guy got too close, brushing your arm with the edge of his bag.

Before you could step back, a hand touched your lower back , “Sorry I’m late, honey,” a low voice murmured behind you.

You turned your head and there he was , Eren Yeager stepping into your spotlight like he owned it. His hair loose around his face, one hand still on you, the other pushing a nosy interviewer out of the way with casual strength.

“You better be,” you said, your voice sugar-sweet, lips curling into the smallest smirk.

Sasha froze mid-step with her eyes widen , phone halfway to her ear.

“If two plus two is four…” she whispered. “Then what the fuck is this?”

Hange didn’t even blink, just muttered under her breath, “Oh, this is gonna break the internet.”

The cameras went wild—click-click-click—capturing the two of you standing there like a scandal gift-wrapped in black leather and smug expressions.

And just like that, without asking, Eren took your suitcase from you, his hand still grazing your waist as if to say Play along, princess.

You kept your head forward, the lenses of your sunglasses hiding your eyes, but your lips curved into the faintest smile. Let them speculate.

Jean and Mikasa trailed a few steps back, their expressions a cocktail of disbelief and irritation. Jean leaned toward Mikasa, muttering something you couldn’t hear, but the glare he sent Eren’s way spoke volumes.

You tilted your head toward Eren. “Are they watching?”

“Yeah…” His gaze stayed forward, but the smirk on his lips told you he was enjoying this way too much.

“We need to keep going,” you said. “Gosh, But can you walk faster?” you added ,

“Why do we need to walk faster? This is a romance movie, baby.”

“You’re so annoying.”

You felt the corners of your mouth twitch, almost breaking character, and instinctively made that tiny irritated face before quickly fixing it into a perfect, practiced smile for the cameras.

Eren, of course, noticed, and without missing a beat, slid his hand back to your waist like he was reminding you both of the act.

From the side, Levi appeared, sharp as ever, weaving through the chaos until he was in front of Hange.

“Are they serious about this? I thought they didn’t like each other.”

“How would I know?!” Hange snapped, eyes glued to the photographers like she could will them to vanish.

Levi squinted. “Oh, right. Forgot you’re just a four-eye.” Without another word, he moved toward Eren.

“Oi! You other brats need to keep up or I’ll just leave you here with the pathetic paparazzi,” he barked over his shoulder.

That was the signal , your group finally broke through the last swarm of reporters, security holding the line until the doors to the private lounge slid shut behind you. The sound outside dimmed to a faint hum, leaving just you, Eren, and the thud of your own heartbeat.

He didn’t let go of your waist.

The private lounge was quieter, but the air between you and Eren wasn’t. The glass walls muted the chaos outside, and now there was nothing stopping him from closing the distance.

Without a word, Eren’s arm slipped from your waist to your shoulder, his grip was firm. You weren’t walking so much as being steered like you were his doll, dressed up for the perfect little show.

“You’re acting like you own me.” You glanced up at him, a sharp eyebrow raised.

He smirked without looking down. “Right now? I kinda do.”

“Dream on.”

He tightened his hold just enough to make you aware of it, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“Keep smiling, sweetheart. You don’t want them to see you break character.”

You swallowed the instinct to roll your eyes, keeping that flawless smile plastered on as the rest of the group followed.

Jean’s eyes kept cutting toward you like he was seconds away from saying something reckless. Mikasa’s expression was unreadable, though her jaw tightened each time Eren’s hand shifted against you.

Armin’s concern about the situation but he just continue to play his nintendo switch ,

“He’s holding her like she’s about to be auctioned.” Sasha leaned toward Hange, whispering loudly enough for you to catch,

“Shut up,” Hange hissed, though she was watching just as intently.

“This better not turn into a soap opera before we land.” Levi’s gaze swept the group like a security scan.

The sliding doors to the tarmac opened, and the private jet came into view, gleaming under the afternoon light. Eren adjusted his grip so you were pulled closer against his side, guiding you forward with a slow step . You could feel the weight of the band’s stares on your back, the silent exchange between them in disbelief , maybe even curiosity.

As you climbed the steps to the jet, Eren didn’t let go. His hand stayed on your shoulder, heavy and warm, almost daring you to shove it off. You didn’t. Not yet.

By the time you reached the cabin, you could feel the tension tightening like a pulled guitar string. Everyone was watching, waiting for the next crack in the act.

And Eren? He looked like he was just getting started.

The cabin of the private jet was sleek and quiet, with the faint hum of the engines filling the space.

You barely made it to your seat before Eren crouched down in front of you, his hands already at the straps of your heels.

“I can do it myself, you damn it,” you hissed, trying to tug your foot back.

“I know you can,” he said, glancing up with that infuriating half-smile. “Doesn’t mean I can’t do it for you.”

You hated that his hands were warm. You hated even more that he was taking his sweet time.

The heels came off, and before you could snatch them away, he leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone.

“Eren—”

Click!

You blinked at him. “Did you just take a picture of me?”

He smirked. “Mhm. Proof my girlfriend exists.”

“She’s imaginary.”

“Not according to my camera roll.”

You leaned forward to snatch his phone, but he moved in, blocking you with his shoulder. It looked bad really bad from the back: two heads tilted together, close enough to kiss, your laugh muffled into his arm.

“Gosh, Eren, get out of my way.”

“Make me.”

From the other end of the cabin, Jean’s voice broke the low hum of the flight. “Are they… actually dating?”

“Does Eren know what ‘dating’ is?” Armin observed both of you while Mikasa didn’t answer. She just stared, like she was studying a puzzle she couldn’t solve.

Sasha had stopped mid-crunch, the chip halfway to her mouth, her eyes locked on the two of you.

Hange leaned toward Levi, whispering, “Y/N said they’re just in a situationship.”

Levi didn’t even look up from the coffee he was stirring. “Ok, four eyes, I don’t give a fuck.”

You finally managed to shove Eren back into his seat, your cheeks warm not that you’d admit why. He just sat there, relaxed, like the scene you’d just caused was all part of his plan.

And judging by the way the Band of Titans kept glancing between the two of you… maybe it was.

Fast forward , the clock just hit midnight and the cabin was dark, the faint hum of the engines wrapping the whole jet in a low, steady lullaby.

Everyone was asleep , Jean snoring like a chainsaw, Sasha hugging a bag of chips like it was her firstborn, Levi still upright with his arms crossed, somehow looking judgmental even in his dreams.

Everyone… except you.

Eren was across from you, head tilted slightly, his face angled your way like he’d been watching you before falling asleep. His breathing was even, peaceful in a way you didn’t expect from him.

You weren’t thinking about him though , you were thinking about the stash of snacks you’d spotted earlier in the side pocket of his backpack. Just a little raid. He’d never know.

You leaned forward, slow and careful. Your fingers brushed the zipper—

Snag.

“Fuck…” you hissed under your breath. Your sleeve was caught on the chain hanging from his wrist. You tried to tug it free, but the metal only tightened around the fabric.

Then Eren mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“…Mom…”

You froze as your eyes looking at him ,

“…Please take me home.”

Before you could process the weird twist of your stomach, his hands moved grabbing you and pulling you toward him. The chain snag got worse, but that wasn’t your main problem anymore.

He’d pulled you fully onto his chest. The position was… compromising, to say the least. Your knees braced against either side of his hips, your face only inches from his.

“Ere—” you whispered, panicked, glancing around the cabin. If anyone woke up and saw this, you’d never live it down.

He didn’t wake, just murmured again, “Mom… I’m sorry…” and his arms tightened around you like he wasn’t letting go.

That’s when the turbulence hit.

The plane lurched hard, and your body instinctively pressed closer to him. His grip, somehow, only got stronger.

You’re in spiraling with trouble now , because you look like you’re riding him now.

And all you could think was , If this plane goes down, I’m going to be found in the most humiliating position possible.

You’d given up sometime after the third turbulence jolt. The chain wouldn’t come off, and every time you shifted, Eren’s arm would snake tighter around your waist, hauling you in like you were his personal anchor.

“Mom…Please take me home…” He’s breathing against your hair. You told yourself you were just going to rest your eyes only until he loosened his grip.

Except you woke up to sunlight bleeding through the airplane window still there.

Not just there , worse.

Your body was sprawled over his, knees bracketing his hips, your cheek pressed against his chest like some cliché romance novel cover. His chain still clung to your sleeve, and his hand? Yeah, resting way too comfortably on your lower back.

He was awake.

He’d been awake.

And judging by the lazy grin on his face, he was absolutely enjoying this.

You tried to lift yourself off, but the chain pulled taut, making you stumble right back into him.

“Morning, princess,” he murmured, voice still scratchy from sleep.

Before you could even curse him out—

“Holy shit.” Jean’s voice cut through the cabin, way too loud.

Mikasa sat up straight like she’d been electrocuted. Armin froze mid-bite of an energy bar. Sasha stared, eyes darting between you two like she was watching the most intense scene in a drama.

Even Levi stopped in the aisle, eyes narrowing like he was calculating exactly how much he didn’t want to be involved in this conversation.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” Levi asked flatly.

You scrambled to sit up again and sill stuck. Eren didn’t move, didn’t even pretend to help. Instead, he tightened his hold just enough to make your pulse spike.

“Looks bad, doesn’t it?” he said with his raspy morning voice ,

“Let me go,” you hissed in a whispery tone ,

“Nah,” he smirked, eyes flicking to the others.

“They’re watching.”

Sasha’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god… they’re real.”

“They’re not real!” you snapped c probably too fast, because Jean’s eyebrows shot up like you’d just confirmed something.

The murmurs started. Mikasa whispering something to Armin, Sasha muttering “I knew it,” and Levi sighing like his morning had already gone to hell.

Eren just leaned back against the seat, still keeping you in place.

“Guess we gave ‘em something to talk about,” he murmured, that smug glint in his eyes making your stomach twist.

And yeah, you were definitely not surviving this flight.

A few hours have just passed , and you guys are on the way to reach the Island .

The island came into view like something out of a travel commercial , white sand blinding under the afternoon sun, palm trees swaying lazily in the breeze, the water so blue it almost hurt to look at. But the air wasn’t just warm and salty , it was charged.

The boat slowed, rocking with the tide, and Eren’s arm was still clamped around your waist like an anchor. You kept the same fixed, unbothered smile, a perfect porcelain doll for the cameras even though your muscles ached from holding this charade together.

Jean and Mikasa were posted near the bow, their low conversation threaded with glances sharp enough to cut. Whatever scandal they were hiding, they were guarding it well.

Armin hovered beside them, waiting for Eren to make his move. Levi and Hange had already stepped onto the dock, eyes scanning for the producers.

You were ready to step down on your own, heels already aimed for the weathered planks ,

But then his hand tightened.

In one effortless motion, Eren slid an arm under your legs and lifted you clean off the deck.

It was the kind of lift that made your stomach flip . Not because you weren’t expecting it, but because it was too damn easy for him. His shoulders barely shifted under your weight, his grip solid like he’d done this a hundred times before.

The wind caught at your hair, whipping it into your face. The sun hit the edges of your cheekbones just right, casting the two of you in that golden, almost-too-perfect light.

And then there were his greenish blue eyes locked on yours like the rest of the world had vanished.

Jean’s jaw went tight. Mikasa’s gaze dropped, sharp and unreadable. Armin’s mouth actually fell open.

From the dock, you two looked dangerously magnetic.

But between you?

“After this,” you murmured, your voice low enough for him alone, “if you betray me, I’ll kill you”

“That’s fair.” The corner of his mouth curved, Your feet touched the dock just as the producer’s voice rang out across the island.

“Welcome… to Love Island!”

The cameras flashed. The water slapped against the hull. And somewhere in the sunlit chaos, your deal had truly begun.

Could you make it work? Or was this just the first act of a beautiful disaster?

Reblogs are appreciated but no copying! written by flvorieas , All right reserved!

“Oi- you forgot—” Neji’s eyes widened when he walked into the living room. He took in your appearance, cheeks and nose pink and wet, hiccups being forced down. He stepped forward towards you, watching as you shrunk into yourself. “What happened?” 

Neji was never a good comforter – he never knew how to hold someone and tell them everything was going to be okay because he didn’t know the future. What if everything wasn’t alright? What if he no longer saw them after that? Then he just wasted all that comforting time. But when it came to you? He wanted to hold you and tell you anything to make you smile. He didn’t like seeing you like this. It made every shrewd word die on his tongue. 

“It’s s’stupid,” you hiccuped, reaching up to wipe the tears off the apples of your cheeks. 

“It’s not stupid.” 

“It is. I just want to go to bed.” You didn’t want to talk to him. You knew he was only trying to make you feel better by trying to get you to speak about it, but you couldn’t right now and after you shrugged your shoes off, you pushed past the Hyuga and made your way into your bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind you. 

Neji stood in the living room for a moment before going to work in the kitchen. He knew you hadn't eaten. That piece of shit of a boyfriend never knew how to take care of you properly and he’s probably the reason for you coming home as upset as you did. He always made you cry and Neji hated him for it. 

Once Neji made the simple ramen that you always liked to eat, he made sure to bring two bottles of water and knock before opening your door. If he waited for you to open it, he’d be waiting all night. 

“Neji-”

“I’m only here to feed you.” He watched as you sat up on your bed, eyes puffy and tissue box discarded to the side. He pulled your desk chair over and set the food down on your bed. “The rice is almost done.” 

Humming gratefully, you brought the water bottles to rest under your eyes. 

“Those are for consumption, not for swollen relief.” 

“I’ll consume it once my swollen relief is met.” The smile crossing your face was small, but worth it. Your head fell forward, reaching Neji’s shoulder with just a little stretch. Normally, he’d push the person off if they tried to do this, but not you. You were Neji’s exception. 

He didn’t push you to talk for the rest of the night, content with just watching you eat your ramen and drink your water. He listened to you talk about nothing and waited until you finally fell asleep before slipping out of your bedroom.

Only a few days had passed before Neji walked in on you and your boyfriend arguing in your bedroom. He could hear it from outside the apartment and it only got louder when he walked into the living room. 

“Fuck you!” 

“Fuck me?” Neji flinched at the loud smack. “I’m not the one screwing my roommate behind your back.” The door of the bedroom flung open and a red-cheeked boyfriend rushed out of the bedroom, growling low when he made eye-contact with Neji and pushed past him out the door. Neji didn’t even get a chance to complain that he trudged his dirty shoes through the apartment before he saw you come out of your bedroom in tears. He heard your quiet plea summoning him over and he couldn’t stop his feet from bringing him over, nor could he stop his hands from reaching up and cupping your cheeks. 

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes and nuzzling your cheek against his palm. Neji was always your safe space, your sounding board; your lighthouse in the dark. Your boyfriend - well, now ex boyfriend - was always jealous of that. 

“Are you okay?” You sniffled, shaking your head. You didn’t trust your voice, nor did you trust yourself to look into Neji’s eyes. “How about I make us dinner and we could watch some movies tonight.” He didn’t want to leave your side or have you out of his sight so he brought you to the couch, sitting you down before making his way over to the kitchen to get started. He wasn’t sure just how much you ate today, but he could probably guess that it was just a bowl of cereal that he saw in the sink. 

With every cut of the vegetables, Neji looked up to check on you, to make sure you weren’t completely breaking down and every time, he’d catch you looking at him. Your cheeks were flushed and he couldn’t figure out if it was from crying or if you were blushing from him catching you, but you’d avert your gaze every time, and it’d make his stomach flip. 

When Neji looked over once more, you were gone and he panicked. He was about to put the ladle down and go look for you when your arms snaked around his middle and said ladle clattered to the floor with a startled squeal leaving his lips.

But he forgot all about the pounding in his chest when he heard that pretty giggle he loved to hear escape your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, but you looked a little out of it.”

It was a good night, Neji thought. A good night and he got to feed you as much as you let him. Neji thought, for a fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to finally confess his feelings to you — the feelings he had been hiding away since you two were just barely middle schoolers. He could finally tell you how much he loved and cherished you - how much he wanted to protect you and make you happy. 

But before he could even open his mouth to speak, he felt your lips crash against his. 

His heart pounded inside his rib cage and his pulse quickened. Before he knew it, your tongue had darted inside his mouth and you were climbing into his lap. His mind was so hazy, and he was slowly losing control of the situation – and the guard he had built up to keep you from noticing. He didn’t even know where to put his hands - on your thighs, on your ass, on your hips? Or should he just let them hang at his sides? 

It was like you knew the internal struggle he was having, reading his mind like you always did throughout your entire friendship; you took his hands and placed them on your hips, letting him decide whether he wanted to move them higher or lower. 

You knew this was wrong, knew you shouldn’t be grinding against your best friend’s lap, trying to get the picture of your ex-boyfriend erased from your brain with the sounds of Neji’s grunts and the feeling of his (larger than you thought it’d be) cock growing harder beneath you. You were flabbergasted when you slipped the hair tie from his dark hair and he didn’t grab your wrist to stop you, or when you pulled off the headband he had kept on to cover the peculiar tattoo he had on his forehead, or when you tugged off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. You thought maybe he’d push you off, tell you that you arne’t thinking clearly and send you off to bed like the logical man he was. But it was when your hand caressed the taut muscles of his stomach, tracing every dip and curve of his abs, even the v-line that sank deeper below his waistband that you realized he was melting underneath your palms and you were getting drunk on the control you were gaining. 

“Neji,” you whispered against his lips, making him whine. He didn’t want to stop kissing you. “Neji, let me touch you more.” His hands slid to your thighs, allowing you to move back as you tried to tug off his pants with a small whine. “Off, off,” you pouted,, and for a moment, you forgot about the man who had broken your heart when you heard the chuckle rumbling off your best friend’s lips. 

“You’re going to have to get up so I can take them off.” You pouted, but nodded because you had to take your clothes off as well. 

Neji had fumbled with his pants, his briefs sliding down his thighs without him noticing and as you hooked your fingers into the elastic of your leggings, the sight of his bare cock causing your eyes to widen. You forgot what you were doing as you watched the cock twitch against his stomach and his chest rise and fall rapidly as he waited (im)patiently. 

Neji’s large hands wrapped around your waist, tugging you closer and hooking his fingers around your waistband. “I’m taking these off for you, since you’re so enthralled by me.”

You couldn’t stop the way your cheeks burned at the observation. You were enthralled by Neji, you always had been, and how could you not be? There he was, leaning back against the couch with your pants in one hand, base of the cock in the other. He was completely naked and waiting for you, pupils blown with lust and hunger. 

Dropping to your knees, your fingers graze over his knuckles and you carefully pry his erection from his hands. “Just relax, Jiji.” But he couldn’t, not with the feeling of your tongue dragging across his shaft, and your lips wrapping around the tip of his cock. He could barely stop the moan slipping from his lips and his fingers tangling into your hair. 

His moans were something you never thought you’d hear again — aside from the times he had brought a girl home while he thought you were asleep, or out. But even then, they didn’t sound like this. You briefly wondered what he’d sound like the moment you slid down on his cock. It didn’t take long - with the tip of his cock deep in your throat - for Neji to tug you off and pick you up. He sat you on his lap and you celebrated internally, grinding your hips down. 

“I-I don’t think I can wait-” he panted, your fingers, pushing the headband from his head and the tie from his hair.

“So don’t. Let me take the lead, Jiji.” You pushed him to lay back against the couch, sitting up on your knees as you took the head of his cock and pressed it to your dripping entrance. The stretch from Neji’s cock was deliciously painful; it was larger, and thicker than your ex’s, and you couldn’t stop the whine from passing your lips with every inch you took as you sank down. Neji could barely speak, breath hitched and caught in his throat as he watched you move. You had to take a moment to breathe before rolling your hips, your head already spinning from the sheer size of his cock. 

“Take your time,” he whispered, hands splayed out on your hips to help guide your movements. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You never thought you’d be able to see this scene in person - only in your daydreams - of Neji underneath you, long hair sticking to the sides of his face and chest full of scratches from you. You’d only seen Neji once after he had sex, and it was by accident, but now you knew why that girl didn’t want to leave him alone. The mere sight of him was addicting and his voice alluring, with the constant praises and guidance.

The mushroom head of his cock kissed your cervix with every bounce and you thought you were going to fall apart any minute.

“Fuck- you’ve gotten even tighter,” he grunted, teeth grit as he watched your tits bounce. “Are you going to cum already?”

“Neji-” your nails dug into his shoulder now, searching for any kind of purchase to ground yourself too. 

“It’s okay.” You could cum just from his voice alone, but now his thumb was circling your clit quickly, his hips starting to buck relentlessly, chasing his own orgasm before yours completely blinds you. You saw white as the knot in your stomach snapped and you came, squirting around and in Neji’s lap. It made the Hyuga gasp and quickly pull you off before painting yours and his stomach white. 

His smile was soft when he finally caught his breath, brushing his nose against yours as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, grabbing a wet washcloth as he passed the bathroom to clean you up.

“Are you okay?” He whispered with his lips against your forehead and the washcloth cleaning your most intimate parts with such gentleness, you thought you were going to cry. Your ex had never been this gentle, usually telling you to clean yourself up on your own. Just another reason to fall in love with your best friend. All you could do was nod, partially because you were exhausted but also because you were afraid to speak up for fear of falling apart. Your best friend just nodded, dressing you in one of his shirts and himself in boxers before climbing into the bed with you. 

It wasn’t long before sleep had taken over, Neji’s heartbeat and breathing lulling you calmly, but it didn't stop from one thought crossing your mind before you had completely succumbed to dreamland; something he had always told you if you left: you’d never be worthy of another person’s kindness. 

You couldn’t let Neji see you leave the next morning, or else… you’d taint his life with your flaws the same way that man tainted yours. 

So the lavender-eyed man woke up alone the next morning, and continued his routine like any other day; unaware of what he’d see when he stepped onto campus in the next ten minutes. 

Neji thought he was hallucinating. He really thought he needed glasses due to the scene right in front of him; you with your, what he thought was your ex boyfriend, smiling and laughing with his arm around you. He couldn’t stop the bubble of anger rising in his chest and he couldn’t stop his feet from bringing him to right in front of you. 

Your eyes widened, stomach churning. “Neji–” He didn’t say a word as he gripped your wrist, tugging you away from the man who had broken your heart not even 24 hours prior. 

“Neji, wait–” Pulling your hand out of his grasp, you rubbed the skin. His grip was so tight, it would have left marks if he kept it in his hold longer. 

“All he ever did was use you. Why can’t you see that?”

“I do– I do see that.”

“You don’t. You really don’t because I’m standing right in front of you — I have been for years, standing on the sidelines, loving you quietly. You were never perceptive as a child, but I thought you’d grown up.”

“Neji-”

“No.” Neji shook his head, his top lip curling into a snarl before he turned away, fighting the urge to tell you he was sorry and forcing his feet to walk out of the courtyard. 

His love for you had grown immeasurably and if he didn’t walk away from you now… he’d let you tear him apart. 

Eren had begun to lose count of how many times he had found you standing within his doorframe after he tugged it open in response to the rhythmic rapping of knuckles along the wood. It was time and time again, repetitive and tedious; he would have found it annoying if it was anyone other than you that was behind those knocks.

It happened so often, so regularly, that there was only one other time where he was startled by your arrival besides your very first show all those months ago, and it was that of your first show after his first witness of your first flashbacks—which you argued, weren’t flashbacks at all. So many firsts and so many new experiences that firsts and novelties began to grow expected when he found himself with you. Your firsts began to grow into his as well, because although he was years ahead of you in experience despite being the same age, these would be the first times he would experience something like this with someone like you.

You knock, gently, for the twelfth time in the three weeks that have passed since your first episode. It sounds the same as every other one you’ve done, having mastered the pattern and intensity after finally growing used to the sparking of your nerves whenever you show for him. You aren’t sure what you’ve come to him for this time, but then again, you’ve stopped the excuses and admit to yourself that just wanting to spend time with him is a good enough reason.

Eren doesn’t complain about your increasing desire for platonic time together, and he doesn’t grow bored of you after your visits grow less and less reliant on sexual advances, he’s over the moon for every passing second he gets to see you content in the purest of forms.

Being able to see his television screen flicker in the whites of your eyes as you intently watch whatever show has been put on makes his heart flutter in the most delightful of ways. Watching the corners of your mouth turn up as you shy away from his gaze after he shamelessly flirts with you sends warmth spreading through his veins. And getting to see you laugh until you can’t while the two of you horse around while playing board games makes the lack of sexual pleasure from another being all worthwhile. Eren’s grown tired of his fist, but not tired of you.

“Why am I not surprised to see you here?” He asks softly, a gentle smile teasing his lips as his eyes look over your figure.

Dressed in one of his shirts—the one that he gave you a week or so ago after you had a nasty spill of Chinese food over your own shirt during one of your movie marathons—and a pair of fleece sweatpants, Eren felt his heart swell in his chest. He’s learned over these weeks that the more casual your attire seemed to be, the more time you had planned to spend at his house. This was by far the most comfortable of clothes he had seen you in.

“Because I’ve been here three times within the past week, and this will be my fourth,” You explain to him as if he didn’t know the said information. You look him into the eyes as you speak, playful, unafraid.

“Hm… you have a point, get in here,” He says, grasping the side of the door and pushing it open further as he steps aside. You step into his home without hesitation, keeping your eyes on his pretty face as you do so. Eren closes the door behind you, locking it as you slip your shoes off, “Oh, I need your help picking out a cake for Armin.”

You snicker at the thought of Eren being the one chosen to look at the array of cakes waiting to be picked for the blonde boy’s birthday, then you settle and smile when you think about Armin’s face being lit up by twenty colorful candles that will sit atop the said cake.

“Annie’s in charge of the whole birthday operation. She assigned Mikasa and me to cake-picking and invitations,” Eren seems to have read your thoughts, “We’ve both procrastinated.”

Thankfully, procrastination explains why you haven’t received an invitation yet, which saves you from quite a bit of awkwardness. And you’re once again reminded of how many traits Eren and Mikasa do truly share from being raised under the same household; from blind impulsivity to simply putting things off for too long. Even for their best friend’s birthday, they can’t seem to get things done for their lives.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. ‘Min is turning twenty and Miks and I have both put off birthday prep, He continues, “Can’t blame us. We’ve all been a bit distracted lately.” He shoots you a flirty glance.

You fight back the urge to make a suggestive comment; only a bit wary of what would happen if you decided to rile him up; not because you were afraid of him, but you were afraid of yourself and what you would choose to do if Eren kept it up.

Many times throughout your weeks with Eren where you’ve come over to spend time in his home and in his presence, you’ve both gotten quite playful with each other. There were lingering glances, intimate touches, teasing words, and raising tensions, but nothing more than that. There was touching and kissing and desperation, but there wasn’t anything more—no plunging fingers or pumping hands, no licking tongues or suckling mouths. It was strange intimacy; consistent friendship with brief bursts of need and sexuality. Perhaps that is what friends-with-benefits is truly like, and the idea of more was terrifying but enticing.

“Twenty sounded so old when we were kids.” You finally say as you slide yourself into one of the counter stools that’s tucked beneath the breakfast bar of his kitchen counter. The granite is cool beneath your forearms as you rest them before you, settling in to watch Eren as he rounds the same counter to stand before you but on the other side.

He rests his phone flat, screen side up, on the counter that’s just a step below yours to be level with the sink. He leans into his palms that press flat on the surface, looking down to the screen that displays pictures of pretty pastries and dainty confectionaries upon a website named Trost’s Treats. Shamefully, you admit that the sweets aren’t the only desirable thing that sits before you. Eren’s hands, broad palms, long fingers, and arms littered with attractive veins and lean muscle, already begin to distract you.

“I’ll still pretend it sounds old just to be able to tease him for it for a few more months,” Eren looks up from his phone and to you, moving only his eyes. His hair, freed from the band that usually ties it out of his face, now falls before his eyes and leaves you with only slivers of jade that peek from behind the dark strands.

You scoff, rolling your eyes teasingly before leaning forward on your forearms to get a look at his screen. You can feel the presence of his head just in front of yours, and your eyes struggle to stay on the images below you as his hands remain flexed against the countertop; tendons and veins swelling under the pressure.

You slide an arm out from under your chest and turn the phone slightly to straighten the colorful pictures. Then, with a lone finger, you swipe along the screen to survey the album of potential cakes of choice.

“What kind of cake does he want?” You ask quietly, eyes following the screen as you scroll.

“I have no idea, but Armin seems like a red velvet kind of guy, if you ask me,” Eren says, following your lead and carefully inspecting every dessert that slides into his vision.

“Mhm. White frosting though, with blue lettering,” You add, pointing to a design that shows exactly what you described.

Each cake is different, sometimes drastically and sometimes only slightly. The one you point at is one with more basic lettering and decor; thin-lined cursive spelling out Happy ‘#’th’ Birthday ‘Name’ in delicate baby blue frosting in the center, and bordering the cake is the same shade of blue puffing around the edges and lining the sides.

It was pure and simple, celebratory in a manner that wasn’t flashy or phony; it was easy to picture Armin’s name and age replacing the stand-ins. Delicate, sophisticated, lovely—it was absolutely Armin.

“You’ve been visiting a lot lately,” Eren murmurs as he takes a light hold of his phone to capture a screenshot of the cake. Although the statement is obvious, it’s opened up a conversation that will be much less so.

He’s aware that you appreciate the time spent with him, which would be solid enough reasoning for your increase in visits, but he suspects that something else lurks in your intentions. It isn’t negative or malicious, but rather desperate and dependent. To Eren, it seemed like you weren’t only wanting this time with him, but needing it as well. You craved his attention in a way that was getting far too similar to that of addiction; but who wouldn’t be addicted to a love like his? Who could blame you?

“Are you complaining?” You save yourself with the question. Eren’s statement wasn’t necessarily an inquiry, but you didn’t have the energy to continue on that path of conversation. You couldn’t tell him that you were using him to distract yourself, because you weren’t yet aware of that fact yourself. You refuse to admit that your need for companionship wasn’t only rooted in your admiration for him.

“Always,” Eren chuckles, “If you keep showing up to my house to steal my food and use my Hulu account I’m going to switch units with Mrs. Yahontov from next door just to confuse you.”

“What, so every time I come over wanting to sweet talk you, you want me to be met with the half-naked old woman who only speaks Russian?” You cross your arms back under you and lift your head to see Eren grinning as he scrolls through cakes.

“You come over to sweet talk me?” He raises an eyebrow and lowers his voice to a near purr.

“Depends,” You shrug, “Is it working?”

Eren looks up to you then, hair in his face and cheeks flushed pink. He’s flustered but remains collected as he leans towards you until your noses brush and you’re both glancing down to each other’s lips. You hold your breath, stomach swooping and fists tightening as you watch Eren run his tongue along his bottom lip. He floods your senses; his cologne meeting your nose and his breath tickling your lips.

“Always,” He repeats before pulling away; leaving you with your body leaning over the counter in anticipation. He shocks himself by returning to his task with such an impressive mask of composure despite his heart thrumming against his ribs and blood pounding in his ears.

So soon into your visit, Eren has made the bold choice to tease you, and his bravado has flushed your neck and face hot and sent warmth swimming throughout your stomach. Days like these were few but effective; days when he chose first thing in the morning that he was going to be a little shit and put you on edge. These days were always the ones that led to an escalation of touch, for his choice to tease was encouragement for you to do the same.

He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would push yourself before you grew uncomfortable. You appreciated it because although this testing went unspoken between you two, it allowed you to gauge yourself just like he did. It was just like the beginning, doing things you were comfortable with with the occasional push for more, you were just waiting for that push this time; waiting for the push—whether long-term or short-term—that told you that you need more. Something was going to happen, more was going to happen and you know it. It was in the air, thick and heavy, you could both feel it.

You settle back into your seat, “You’re in a mood today,” Push. You decide to encourage him. You flirt back; testing the waters, dipping your toes into his ocean.

Eren laughs through his nose and shakes his head ever so slightly. It wasn’t harsh enough to be considered a scoff but rests just under the requirements. It was a laugh of disbelief; he wasn’t too sure what to say. The laugh was buying him time to settle his fluster and realize that you were wanting to play. His heart flutters, not only because you’ve grown aware of his playing, but because you’re acknowledging it and playing along as well. When his games aren’t one-sided, where you’re playing and playing to win, that’s his favorite part.

Low in his stomach, thick and heavy, arousal begins to swim. It tickles beneath his waistband and dances up his abdomen until his throat tightens and he’s swallowing down saliva.

“What makes you think that?” He asks when he finally finds his words.

It’s your turn to fumble, for you haven’t thought ahead enough to formulate a response to that possible question. You only meant to acknowledge his behavior, not directly speak of it.

“You’re flirting with me,” You felt like you were breaking the unsaid wall. Addressing it head-on was a rush; would he admit to his doings, or would he bottle it back up to tease a bit more? When the flirting went unsaid, encouraged but not confronted, it was easier. It was so much easier to just do it rather than asking yourself why.

He wants to tell you I flirt with you every day, this isn’t a “mood” but he can’t seem to find his voice.

Eren reaches for his phone until his palm covers the screen, and then clicks it off. He removes his hand to press it back against the counter with the other, leveraging his body on the granite as he leans over it, and looks down to the black mirror for a moment before picking his head up. He doesn’t say a word when your eyes meet, only raises his brows in question like he wasn’t sure what you were getting at.

You know better than to let him get away with faux-confusion, “‘caught red-handed and now you’re quiet, hm?” You grip the edge of the bar as you slide yourself out of your chair and to your feet.

Eren straightens himself out a bit, almost like he’s backing up from you, and turns to the side to face you straight-on as you round the corner and approach him. His right hand still holds onto the granite, gripping the edge a little too tight to seem comfortable; it squeezes a bit tighter once you come towards him, resting your left hand on the counter to mirror him as you both face each other.

He looks down to you, biting his inner cheek to conceal a smirk. He still stands strong, intimidating; a broad chest and a tall figure. If it wasn’t for the flush across his complexion that poured down his face until it disappears down his neckline, you could’ve believed he was unaffected by your opposition. And that blush you see is the only thing keeping you from shrinking before him.

Eren could almost say the same for you. If it wasn’t for your shaky hands or tight chest, he would’ve found himself a lot more nervous than he truly was. He finds comfort in knowing that you’re both on edge; that even though his body is twitching and sparking and there's this tightness in his throat that makes him want to scream, that you’re feeling just the same way.

Oh, how wonderful it is to be so affected by another’s presence; to be so hopelessly in love with someone that their every action strings you up no matter how comfortable you may be with them. It’s insane. With Eren, you know nothing but peace, but you know nothing but stimulation. It was so consistent, it was so exciting. You knew when he would make a move, but you never knew what the move would be.

“‘m just trying to think of what to say,” He admits, ducking his head away from your eye contact and laughing softly, “You make me nervous…”

You tilt your head slightly to the side, like dogs do when they’re baby-talked, and blink a few times as you process his words.

It was safe to say that you were aware of your effect on him, whether it was physical or mental, but hearing it out loud is different; similar to how addressing his flirtatious behavior was different than simply acknowledging it.

“I make you nervous?” You question, trying to maintain the coy tilt in your voice, but it simmers and is overpowered by genuine wonder.

“God, yes. Are you kidding me?” He breathes, laughing softly; relieved to get it out. His head is lifted once more and his body seems to relax despite the increase of pink that spreads across the highs of his face. “I’m like—I’m literally shaking right now.”

Eren removes his right hand from the counter and lifts it up to where his palm is down to the floor and his hand is held between the two of you; and yes, it’s shaking ever so slightly. His fingers twitch and his arm trembles like the weight of it is almost too much to hold up.

Your body warms and you can feel your own limbs growing heavy in their sockets. You want to reach out and touch him, feel his body vibrating beneath your fingertips, but he retracts his hand just as fast as he flung it up like he doesn’t want you looking too close. It was possibly the cutest thing you think you’ve ever seen. You don’t want to get too confident, but seeing Eren get all sweet and blushy filled you with a different sort of pride.

“Why?” You ask, wanting to hear an answer both to know it and for it to boost your ego.

“God,” He laughs, looking to the floor and brushing his hair out of his face, “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

He pulls himself away from the counter’s ledge, hoping you don’t notice how weak his legs have grown in mere moments of coquettish banter. He watches you carefully as he steps before you, taking in your every morphing expression and change in body language so he doesn’t push his limits. When he sees that you turn to face him—with your back to the ledge and your body between his and the counter—he safely assumes that he’s okay to continue. Eren gives you another few passing seconds, last moments to escape into the space that’s left on either side of you that would prevent yourself from being trapped within his arms, then he steps closer; tips of your toes almost touching, faces only breadths away.

“What do I do?” You ask quietly. Your pretty eyes are all wide, glossed over and hazy with arousal from the proximity, and your perfect lips are slicked with your saliva; for you’ve licked and bitten them raw from anticipation.

Eren leans forward, reaching to either side of you to grab the ledge, and properly traps you within his arms. His eyes are heavy, full of desire, and he closes them slowly, too weak to look at you much longer without losing himself. You do the same, tilting your face up, waiting.

“You fuck me up,” He murmurs, inching forward, purposefully nudging your nose with the tip of his.

You wanted the answer for another soar of your pride, a want to have your confidence bumped up another notch, but the answer made you feel small. It had you backing into the edge of the counter and gripping the ledge like it was your anchor to Earth. Your heart thuds and thuds and thuds and you swear there’s so much cotton in your head that your brain’s been replaced with it.

“Yeah?” You say so softly, with such a need in your voice that it comes off as a moan to the boy in front of you. His cock throbs—hard already, leaking and needy. The slightest traces of a moan in your throat is what tells him that this teasing is no longer innocent; it tells him that you’re ready for a push.

“Mhm,” He nods, his hair tickling your face, the scent of his shampoo filling your lungs; coconut, sage.

You only know that his right hand is moving by the way his forearm brushes yours, and then he's wrapping his fingers around your wrist, holding it delicately as he pulls it from your side and between the two of you. And then he’s interlacing his fingers with yours, but his palm is warm against the back of your hand and his fingers don’t weave themselves all the way inward. He’s moving his hand again, pulling it towards him, pulling it down; and you’re met with fabric, soft fabric, but what lies beneath is hard.

Not even a second passes before you realize what he’s having you feel, because it throbs beneath your hand the moment you touch, twitches against your fingers almost immediately. The sensation of his dick, almost fully hard after only the tamest of flirting, draws a soft whimper from deep in your chest.

“‘you feel that?” He murmurs; there’s no more tease in his voice. His words fanning over the bridge of your nose, fluttering your eyelashes as they remain rested against the tops of your cheeks.

You nod quickly, daring to squeeze the length of him softly, “You’re so hard,” You whisper when your fingers are met with the resistance of him.

“That’s what you do to me.” Eren breathes, but it’s uneasy and strained. His abdomen flexes in tension, and his stomach fizzes and sparks where his groin meets his waistline. He can feel himself growing painfully hard beneath your hand, and your gentle palming—now unaided by his own hand—is only aggravating the problem over relieving it.

You’re weak, you’re so weak; it’s like your knees are made of rubber bands and your arms are made of television static. You can barely feel his dick beneath your fingertips, but it’s also the only thing you can feel—firm, warm, thick, long. You’ve felt him before, touched him before, seen him before, but this differed. Your heart was beating faster, body burning hotter, insides churning harder.

The cage his body has built around you—his limbs, the metal bars; his heart, the lock—was so brilliantly suffocating. For without the presence of his enclosure, you would have never known freedom from it. You weren’t locked inside, because although there was a lock chained to his heart, you owned the key. It was a willing entrapment, the fear of freedom far too great for you to be able to bear leaving. So, for now, you wait within your cage that you’ve locked yourself in; tranquil, oblivious, safe.

His arm has returned to the counter, gripping it harder than before, and his hips tilt slightly into your touch as your nails scratch at the skin of his lower stomach in search of the waistband. You keep your eyes shut as your hand searches, afraid you’ll crumble to the floor if you were met with the sight of his flushed face. He hisses as your other hand releases from your side to grasp at the elastic as well, cold fingers brushing against his sweltering skin.

Your hands hesitate, fingers curled around the band of his sweatpants, and remain there as you pitch your face higher to his. You weren’t looking for a kiss, but you received one the moment your lips touched his. He couldn’t resist. Your breath is stolen away, and your fingers involuntarily slip deeper beneath his pants in time with a soft moan escaping your lips and being swallowed by his.

He pulls away after a moment, eyes still closed, and you take the fleeting moment to speak, “Can I—can we try again?” You speak breathily.

Eren’s stomach drops; drops deep to his groin and explodes like fruit dropping onto concrete pavement. If you were asking him what he thought you were, you were going to positively ruin him. He clenches his jaw to fight back a rasped moan, but it still escapes in the form of a sharp exhale. His hips jerk and push forward, rutting into nothing but air.

He swallows hard, “Yeah,” He nods, “Yeah. You lead, okay?”

You murmur a soft, “Okay,” before leaning forward and pressing your mouth to his. Your right hand dips further into his sweats while your left remains latched to his waistband. You struggle only slightly, unable to get your wrist past the resistance of the elastic band due to his height, and have to pull down with your left and rise onto your toes to slide it deeper. Your fingers tickle at the soft fabric of his briefs, not yet breaching to the intimate skin beneath them, as you feel around for the hardness that was just pressed into your palm.

Eren’s arms tremble against the counter when he feels you grasp his length at the same time your tongue slips into his mouth. Your taste invades his tongue, sweet like honey, the nectar of arousal dripping from your saliva. Your hand, gentle, curious, caresses the underside of him with confidence. It wasn’t so much the sensation of your attentive hand that had the coil in his stomach tightening, but rather how headstrong you are; with your willing touch and wanting voice.

Perhaps the faintest bit of pride rolled its way through Eren when he realized that you encouraged that final push forward. All these weeks of repeating that one word over and over again—communication, communication, communication—and you’ve finally gotten it ingrained in your subconscious; doing it without having to be told. He was so proud of his good girl.

“‘wanna jerk you off…” You admit to his lips. He twitches under your fingertips eagerly, answering a question you didn’t have to ask.

“Do it,” He whispers, tilting his hips once more into your hand in time with a chaste kiss.

You take his response and put it into the actions of your hands, palming him with purpose and taking every throb and pulse as encouragement. Every time the tips of your fingers brush over his frenulum, Eren shivers. You can feel his body quiver, his hips tighten, and his lips would soften against yours to the point where you’re convinced he’s lost his ability to kiss you back. He was sensitive.

He inhales sharply through his nose as your hand releases him then finally dips beneath the final layer of fabric. Both of you moan softly into each other’s mouths at the sensation. Your fingers curl around his girth, fingers met with soft skin that contrasts the hardness beneath it, and he was absolutely on fire. His cock was burning with arousal, leaking equally as hot of precum that drips down to your fingers as you hold him.

Your wrist catches on the waistband again, tugging it down with you as your hand dives deeper in search of the base of him. You let out a huff of frustration into Eren’s mouth before pulling away from him to glance down to where your hand is shoved down his pants, adamant about adjusting the waistband for a better grip.

Eren takes notice of your struggle and pulls his hands off the counter to help, “Push it down. Down, get it down,” He mutters, both hands pushing down where the fabric rests on his hips while you tug with your left where your right wrist rests.

It’s slid down to the tops of his thighs. The delicate bones of his hips and the deep divots of his Adonis belt are exposed for the brief moment where his shirt doesn’t fall over them. Your now free left-hand reaches for the draping shirt, pushing it up his stomach desperately to try and keep him exposed to you. He aids you, using a hand to hold it up for you so you can return to the more important task at hand.

With his hands holding up his shirt and returning back to the counter, yours wrapped around his cock and the other resting against his stomach, and his sweatpants now secured beneath his hips, you begin to slowly pump your hand around the length of him. Eren watches carefully, jaw slacked and eyelids heavy, eyes following your lithe fingers as they grip him tight enough to draw breathy moans from his throat.

You can feel every tensing of his abdominals, the way the lean muscle hardens beneath your fingertips as you rest a hand on his navel. And Christ, his dick; seeing it held between your fingers, blushed a pretty red, littered with enticing veins, and slicked with the precum that’s leaked from him, has your own body responding involuntarily. Your insides are warm and gooey, and they flutter and tighten in sync with the twitching of him. Your heart aches with need, and your entire being craves him.

“Fuck me,” Eren mutters as your thumb swipes over his tip. He couldn’t stop it from escaping his lips. Your body resting so close to his, pretty hands that wrap around his cock, and the energy that leaks from your body—positive, intoxicating, beautiful—they all engulf him. Your touch was different from when you had first taken hold of him; then, it was unknowing, unaware of its power, but now you’re determined, filled with intent, conscious of your effect on him. It drove him insane.

His voice travels straight south, running quickly through your veins and ending in a throb of your insides. That, and the pulsing of his cock that follows, has your knees buckling and your hold around him weakening. The nails of your opposite hand dig into the fragile flesh of his navel for support, but only draws a sharp hiss from his lips.

Your willingness and enthusiasm towards pleasuring him were some of his favorite traits that he’s been exposed to within your experimenting. Knowing that you receive gratification from the stimulation you were providing him had his entire body on edge. Sure, it got him off when he got you off, but knowing that it went both ways was intoxicating.

“Gimme a kiss,” He murmurs, lifting his right hand from the counter and taking a gentle hold of your jaw before you even get the chance to register his words. You whine against his lips, and your hand has even more trouble keeping a steady rhythm, but you kiss him back despite it.

You’ve always been good at multitasking, but trying to do so when the tasks were split between kissing him, jerking his cock, and trying to stop your knees from buckling, was so much harder. You struggle to kiss him back, your hand jerks unsteadily, and your legs tremble beneath you, and although you weren’t the one being touched, it was far too much to handle. But even though you were at your wit’s end, you were okay. Your hand around him never brought you to panic, the feeling of his body so close to yours never drew out flashbacks, and the pairing of the two together never led to a need to stop.

Despite your struggling and mediocracy, Eren still whispers, “‘doing so good for me,” in between the taking of your lips in his. Your body shakes in response to his words; only reminding him that your sensitivity doesn’t stop for his voice.

His hand still grips your jaw softly, having complete control over your ability to pull away from his lips, but even if you did have control, you wouldn’t choose to break the kiss for the life of you. But Eren chooses to break it once more, “‘m gonna fuck your hand, okay?”

He releases his hold on your face and moves it down to your wrist, and he wraps his fingers around it just like you had with his cock. He holds you still, halting your pumping with his firm grip, then looks up from between your bodies and to your eyes.

“Please,” You whisper, eyes switching from his hold on you and then back to his eyes.

Slowly, his hips tilt forward into your hand. He holds the wrist still and allows his cock to fuck itself through the hole of your fingers and palm. Immediately, a soft moan escapes your lips at the feeling of him using you. It was overwhelming. The quiet grunts he makes with every stroke, the look on his face as he watches how your hold is forced to expand as he enters your fist, the straining of his forearm as he holds himself back from digging his blunt nails into your wrist; it was insane.

“Eren, I—can’t,” You choke out, far too overwhelmed from both the lack of stimulation as well as the excess.

He was only a few pumps in when he stopped himself, hips stuttering as he held back from another one. Your words cause a wave of concern to flow through his body, and he asks, “Are you okay?”

Your hand loosens around him, wrist falling limp in his grasp. His own hold loosens while you take a moment to regroup, “Yes, yeah. ‘just really… really turned on.”

Although your words comfort his anxiety, they do nothing to calm the stammering of his heart. Your hand has released him, but he still throbs upwards against your knuckles at the revelation that you weren’t protesting due to distress, but you were protesting because you needed more.

His hands move to quickly pull up his sweatpants, and he doesn’t bother to untuck his shirt from where it’s been caught beneath the waistband before he’s gripping your waist, kissing you roughly, and guiding you from the counter and towards his bedroom. Your hands find his tee-shirt and grip the fabric tightly to pull him closer.

It’s confirmation, you need more, you need him, and he’s more than willing to give that to you.

“Can I take care of you?” He asks in between kisses.

You hold on to him tighter as you’re stumbled backward, gripping onto him and his shirt like a support line. You know you won’t trip or fall as he continues to guide you back, his hold on your body is too steady and too firm for that to happen, but you still find security in holding him.

“Yes, and don’t stop.” You answer breathlessly.

So he doesn’t. Eren leads you to his door, pushing it open with a heavy hand, steps you through, and steers you towards his bed. It’s a mess of stumbling feet, discarded shoes, and grabbing hands.

The trip to his mattress was rough, desperate, and frantic, but the journey down to it was careful and tender; like a parent laying a child to bed after they fell asleep on the drive home.

He gives you a soft kiss before cupping the back of your neck and cradling the small of your back. The weight of his body gently forces a bend in your knees that lets him guide you down to the mattress. Once you lay, his hand at your back drives you further up the bed while his other hand plants beside your head.

The moment you’re steady, he hovers over you, bodyweight supported by his knees. Still free from the confines of a tie, his pretty chestnut hair curtains around his face and the ends tickle your cheeks. Your hands reach out for him, feeling over his chest and shoulders until they rest on either side of his neck, and your legs tease at his sides as you search for more.

“How are you?” He asks softly, shifting his weight to one hand to hold your face with the other. His eyes are swimming with desire, but they’re careful as they search your face.

“I’m good, really good,” You answer, cradling his cheek to mirror his touch to yours.

His lips quirk into a gentle smile, his thumb circles the soft skin of your cheek, “Tell me if you’re not, okay?”

You nod, matching his expression, “I promise,” and then your hands slip back to the back of his neck and tug him down to you. Eren falls to his forearms, body brushing against yours, and he kisses you.

It’s gentle, it’s always gentle with him, but this seemed so much more so. Your faces weren’t smushed together, your teeth weren’t clanking and your lips weren’t getting bitten; it was soft, attentive. Lips moved slowly, tongues dipped tenderly, and the only other place where your faces touched was the softest brushes of your noses when he would tilt his head to the other side.

Although his lips were mild and his tongue was pacific, he still hit you like a train. Matching his patient behavior was far from easy; you wanted to kiss him harder, pull him closer, and move a whole lot faster, and he wouldn’t let you. Every time you lift your head to try and draw him deeper, he pulls away in the slightest to keep the distance, and every dig of your nails into his shoulders that tried to encourage his body flush was fought with tensing muscle and resisting arms.

He didn’t want this slow, he wanted you to have it slow. Eren didn’t care how desperate your lips and hands were, he wasn’t going to let you rush yourself. And on top of that, he didn’t want you to rush him. He was going to take his time with you. He was going to turn you to mush, work you open, and have you melt around him all over again, and he wasn’t going to be quick with it. He wanted it to last.

Eren gives you a final kiss to your lips before kissing the corner of your mouth and then making his way farther down. His lips and tongue kiss at either side of your jaw before returning to your lips, then they dip beneath it to tease at the thin skin of your neck. His mouth is hot, wet, perfect as he licks and nips and sucks along your throat and down to your collar. And his hands are so wonderfully big and strong as they run over your sides and tilt your head to give him more space.

You’re falling apart all the while. Every hot lap of his tongue against your skin had your body squirming and your fingers weaving their way into his hair. Your back bowed and stomach pressed against his so hard that you felt the dips of his abdominals against you as you desperately fought for more friction. And when you weren’t arching your back to the wet of his mouth, you were jerking your hips in search of his in response to his teeth pinching at your skin. When you did get that friction against your cunt, that sweet sweet friction that sends sparks through your whole being, you could feel him thick and hard as he’s pressed between your legs, and you could hear him, deep groans and gasps as his mouth drops from your neck.

When his right-hand slips beneath your shirt to tease at the soft skin of your waist, Eren pulls away from you again, “‘this okay?”

“Yeah,” You smile, sitting up and grabbing the hem to aid him in tugging it over your head. It’s tossed to the floor quickly.

Eren before you, sitting upon his knees, too distracted by the discarded shirt to see your hands begin to reach for him. What draws him back is the feeling of your own fingers teasing at the fabric of his own shirt, brushing against his abdomen as you look up to him with your pupils blown wide.

You’re still sitting before him as he kneels on the bed; you’re sitting completely upright but still sitting. You haven’t seemed to notice the potentially troubling positioning, but Eren has, and he’s reaching down to your sides to pull you up to him before you can even get the chance to. Once you’re balanced on your knees and shins, he releases you to pull off his own shirt, mussing up his hair in the process. He barely gets the chance to get it out of his face before you’re doing it for him and kissing him again.

The feeling of skin on skin as your bodies connect draws a pathetic moan from both of your mouths. Your flesh is burning, sticky with sweat, but smooth beneath each other's palms as you feel over the other, trying to take everything in all at once.

Eren’s fingers dig into the softness of your waist, pulling you flush against him until you’re forced to back up your head so your noses don’t knock together, and your hands feel over the lovely muscles of his chest, arms, and shoulders. Your insides were aching, your mind was fuzzy, and you felt like you would die if you didn’t get more from him soon, but everything about being there with him made you want to stay there forever.

In the comfort of his home, in his room, with the blinds closed and the only light coming from a dimmed lamp in the corner, you kneel with him on his mattress. You and him alone, content in each other’s company. ‘Intimate’ is the only word you could come up with that perfectly describes the shared moment. Because with your bare bodies caressing each other as you find solace in each other’s hearts, there was nothing else that made as much sense as the word ‘intimate’.

“Lay down for me,” He says quietly, “‘wanna play with your tits,” his voice breaks into a soft laugh as he aids you in laying back again. You look away from him and try to hide your face as your lips split into a smile at his words.

He remains on his knees as you lift your body slightly to reach and unclasp your bra, and once the straps go limp on your shoulders, he leans over your body and slowly tugs them down. With a hand beside your head, his other hands’ fingers gently brush along your shoulders, tugging the straps with them until they fall to your biceps. He repeats the same on the other side until you sit up and finish the work for him; once you lay back down, he freezes.

Sitting back on his calves, with your thighs resting atop his and your body on display before him, Eren feels a wave of warmth flush over his entire body. He knows his cheeks are turning red, along with his neck and chest, and he hopes you don’t notice his cock growing impossibly harder in his pants. He wants to take a picture; not one for his phone that he keeps tucked away in a private folder, but one that would be taken on a nice camera that would catch every little detail of your body. And then, after that pretty picture would be taken of your pretty body, he would print it out and keep it safe for when he wants to savor your beauty for a time you’re not around.

Eren couldn’t stop his hands from reaching out to touch you; he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were really there in front of him. Starting with your hips, his palms feel over your body. He tucks every little detail, every curve and rise and fall of your body, into the back of his mind for safekeeping. He lets his hands slide up and over where your rib cage must rest beneath the soft of your skin, shivering when your body arches into his touch and the quietest of whines reaches his ears. Your skin breaks out into goosebumps at the sensation of his hands gliding so softly over your skin, and you grab onto his knees for support. He feels over you like a potter does with the soft clay atop their wheel, molding you to his hands, leaving an invisible mark upon your body.

“God, look at you,” He murmurs, eyes flitting over the swell of your breasts and the peaks of your nipples, over your swollen lips and lust-blown eyes. He thinks he’s in heaven. “You’re a dream.”

Heat pools in your face and between your thighs as you grow shy beneath his gaze. “Eren,” You warn, turning away from him.

“What?” He asks, releasing your sides and sliding his arms under yours as he leans over you, “You’re so beautiful.” And then he ducks his head low, settling himself before your chest, and licks softly at your right nipple.

It draws an immediate gasp from your sensitive body, and your hips jerk up into his stomach; he’s much too low on your body for your hips to align with his. Your hands find the sheets and the fabric is fisted into your fingers as he drags his tongue, slow and wet, over your skin.

Still resting on his elbows, he shifts his body further down until he can grab at your upper sides and lift your breasts ever so slightly up to his face. Then, his left arm slides beneath your body, just at your upper back to keep your chest raised for him, while his right hand comes to tease your other breast. His mouth is hot, lips so soft, and tongue dangerous as he tastes the soft skin.

Every little lap and nip at the swell of your chest has more heat flooding to your cunt and grinding of your hips into the muscles of his abdomen. Your hands lace into his hair, pushing it out of his face as you look to where your flesh is sucked into his mouth. Your jaw slacks.

His pretty face is flushed red, and his eyes have fluttered closed as he gets lost in the feeling of your tits in his face and in his hands. His tongue works eagerly, flicking over your nipple while his free hand tweaks at the other. Your skin was slicked and wet with saliva, raised into goosebumps from the cold air he would blow onto it after a hot lick. It was an intoxicating sight, one that you would keep in your conscious forever to use whenever you needed him most.

“Eren, please,” You beg, although unknowing of what you’re asking for.

His mouth releases from your chest as his eyes open, looking up to you with wide pupils, “What do you need?”

You choke on your words, having to swallow your own spit as you try to find what to say, “Just… more,”

His lips tilt into a smile, and he pulls his arm out from under your body so he can loom over you. He knew what he was doing; looking down to you with his eyes full of desire, lips glossed with saliva, hair messed from your hands. It was bound to drag a reaction out of you. And a reaction it did.

Your hips are now in line with his, and you cant upwards subconsciously due to his gaze, and you’re met with the hard of his cock pressing right into where you need it the most. Even through his briefs, his sweats, your sweats, your panties—four layers—you still feel the twitch of him against your cunt as you do so. And you gasp in response.

“Tell me,” He says, looking into your eyes. But he seems to know what you want, for he grinds himself into the soft of your cunt, pressing the length of his cock right against your clit.

“Oh shit, Eren,” Your eyes roll back and you feel yourself melt into the mattress, hips coming back down shakily as the pleasure overwhelms your body and you’re unable to hold yourself against him any longer. He was so hard. He was so fucking hard that you could feel every throb of him against you.

You try to tell him, you try to make yourself clear, but it comes out sounding pathetic; broken apart with gasps and moans, “‘want—oh gosh—I want you… want you inside me.”

Eren brings his head low, leaning down until his lips are teasing yours featherlight, “‘want me to fuck you?”

You whine, twitching beneath his body, “Oh my God, yeah—yes, yes please,” You squirm beneath his body, your hands grasping aimlessly at his back and shoulders, lips searching for him in your little fight for him.

Eren resists his urge to tease you further, resists the overwhelming desire to call you a needy little thing, and decides to kiss you softly to tide you over. You melt immediately, like his lips were an antidote to your poisoned body, and moan softly against his lips. Eren laughs against you before pulling away, “I need to get you ready first, okay?” You nod quickly, and he smiles at your enthusiasm.

He gives you another small peck to the lips before he kisses down your neck, nipping occasionally to feel your body twitch against his, licking through the valley of your breasts, biting at the soft skin of your stomach, teasing the line of your sweatpants with his tongue, and eventually pulling the waistband down to your thighs and sliding them off your legs.

You break into a laugh as you’re pulled to the edge of the bed, his hands wrapping around your ankles and dragging you along the soft sheets until your legs dangle off the side. His nimble fingers slip off your socks and he’s knelt before you, with your left ankle still within his hold. You gasp softly when you feel his breath whisp along the inside of it. You jerk up to rest upon your elbows, watching him carefully as he brings his lips to the flat bone on the interior, kissing the fragile skin softly. It has your stomach turning in on itself and heat spreading over your entire body.

The sensation was almost foreign, similar to when he chose to tease at your calf all those weeks ago, but it was also wonderful. Each press of his lips and bite of his teeth as he makes his way up your legs has your heart stopping again and again. You would dare to consider it too intimate; blurring the line where sex turns into making love. But it still had your heart softening, had your throat closing in as you’re flooded with such a wonderful emotion, and had your body reacting in signs of arousal.

You whine when he grips the backs of your knees and pushes your thighs to your chest. The pressure forces you off your elbows and back to the mattress. and Eren’s now lifted himself back to standing on his knees to bring his face over your still clothed cunt. Although your panties still provide a layer of security between you and his eyes, you still feel yourself shrinking in at the humiliating positioning.

“You’re so pretty like this,” He says quietly, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to you directly; his eyes still locked onto the pretty mound between your legs, the enticing slick that’s begun to leak through, and the way he swears he can see your clit through the thin fabric of your undergarments. “Keep your legs spread for me, okay?”

In spite of your embarrassment, you nod. Your hand replaces his on the back of your knee as he removes his right to bring it down between your thighs, his left still forcing your thigh to your chest. With his hand resting against the back of your thigh, his thumb finds its way to your clit and presses softly. Your body twitches, hips jerking against his hand, legs trembling in the air, and your free hand clasps over your mouth. He teases softly, rubbing gentle circles against you through your panties, watching the way your soft pussy gives under the pressure of his thumb.

“‘you okay?” His question is genuine, and he brings his eyes up to your face.

Your hand is still over your mouth, eyes squeezed shut, but the moment you register his voice you find yourself removing your palm and looking at him. The sight completely wrecks you. So prettily, he kneels before you, with his long hair framing his face, strong arms toying with your body, and his hips grinding against the side of the bed.

“Yeah—shit—yeah,” You breathe, lips cracking into a smile as you let your eyes flutter shut and your head fall back into the mattress.

Eren takes your answer as permission to bring his eyes back to your cunt, his thumb never stopping its sensual circling. His other hand releases your leg to join his thumb, and you obediently keep yourself open for him. He adjusts his right hand, his palm splaying over your navel to give his knuckles room to drag across your clothed slit. You shake at the stimulation, whining out his name as he drags the backs of his fingers along the slick of your panties, still playing with your clit with the other.

It’s almost like he was inspecting you. Despite the fact that he knew your body far better than you did, he was still learning, still trying to see which actions drew what noises from your lips. He was adding to his arsenal, stocking up on ammunition, pitting your pleasure against you for his victory of bringing you to the hardest orgasm he possibly can.

He removes both hands from your pussy, the left going to grip the back of your thigh while the right comes to hook under the hem of your panties and tug them aside. He groans when he’s met with the sight of your pussy all slicked up, glistening with arousal that strings from your skin to the fabric he pulls from it. He only hesitates to take a mental picture, capturing the sight of you on display, and then he brings his face down and drags his tongue through you.

You inhale sharply at the sensation. His tongue that was so hot and so wet as it dragged over your body feels ten times more so as it dips inside you and licks over your cunt. You let out the shakiest and most pathetic moan you believe has ever come out of your mouth as you feel him fuck his tongue inside you, and he groans against your body as he feels your pussy squeeze around his tongue and leak onto his tastebuds. He’ll never get over the taste of you.

His hair tickles at your skin as he drinks you down, and his hand grips your thigh with such frenzy that the fat of it gives under the pressure of his fingers. He’s pulling your panties aside so hard that for a moment he swears he hears the popping sound of stitches being ripped, but that doesn’t matter for long because he’s quickly tugging them down your legs to leave you completely nude.

“You too,” You say softly, eyeing his sweatpants that still hang on his hips, wanting them off.

He looks up to you cautiously. No words were spoken, but you knew exactly what he was saying.

“I’m sure,” You smile softly, nodding alongside your answer for emphasis.

Eren’s stomach drops straight into his cock, and for a second he’s afraid he’s going to cum from the anticipation alone. If this meant what he thinks it meant—of course, this means what you think it does, Eren. What the fuck—he was going to lose his fucking mind. He is losing his fucking mind. And just when he reminds himself to calm down, because you’ll be able to sense his excitement and he doesn’t want to freak you out during your first time, he loses himself once more because holy fuck it’s your first time.

His legs are weak as he stands, and he prays you don’t see the way they shake under his weight. He opts to leave his briefs on out of caution to overwhelming you and only hooks his fingers under the elastic band of his sweatpants. He shoves the fabric down to his knees before stepping out of them, using his heel to slip the remainder off his ankles. You’re blessed with the sight of him almost fully bare and fully vulnerable; strong yet lean legs that are toned from years of sports, beautiful thighs that you find yourself wanting to cover in dark bruises, and such frightening yet enticing muscles of his lower abdomen that shape themselves into a pretty V and point you towards the thick bulge between his legs.

Gosh, it was almost scary. Even though you’ve seen it before, had it in your hands, had it in your mouth, even though it’s hidden behind the dark fabric of his boxer-briefs, it still fucking stares you down and threatens to ruin you; terrorizing you by straining and throbbing against the nylon that covers it. But even as it promises to split you in half, your mouth waters, and you’re forced to swallow down your saliva.

You’re pulled out of your head by his hands gripping the backs of your thighs and shoving them against your chest once more. His mouth closes over you and works to devour you, sucking and licking at the fat of your pussy and the nub of your clit. It’s all tongue and lips, all sloppy and wet as he enthusiastically makes out with the most intimate parts of you.

His tongue will dip inside you and taste at the walls of your cunt before dragging your own slick through you and up to your clit where it’ll then flick over it with intense precision. He has you crying out his name, choking out choppy moans, gripping the sheets, and tugging at his hair until your knuckles ache and your arms tremble. Your hips fuck upwards to try and take his tongue deeper and your thighs push down into the muscle of his shoulders as your legs twitch and jerk with every lick.

“‘so fucking wet,” He murmurs against your wet skin before taking another taste of you. He pushes against the back of your knees, lifting your backside off the mattress and folding you under yourself to give him room to shove his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

“G-God Eren, you’re—fuck—you’re so good,” You whine, shakily petting at the hair atop his head in weak encouragement. You feel him groan rather than hear him; the vibrations humming through you and buzzing at your clit, tugging another moan from your throat.

Eren dies a little inside when your voice is cut off as you feel the sensation of one of his long fingers sliding inside you. Your cries get caught in your throat and you go completely mute as you’re filled in just the slightest.

Eren clenches his jaw to stifle a groan for every time your soft and tight little cunt squeezes around the length of his finger. Every ridge and divot inside you has his head swimming with the fantasy of how they’ll feel around the thick of his cock, and he almost blacks out when he realizes that he’s no longer fingering you solely for your pleasure, but doing so to stretch you out and make room for him as well.

“You have such- such a perfect fucking pussy, fuck,” He says drunkenly, pulling his mouth away to watch his finger slowly slip in and out of you. His palm still faces the floor as he does so, leaving him the opportunity to lick at your clit as he pleases, and he does every so often just to see your pretty face melt like hot wax.

You make the courageous decision to sit back up on your elbows, keeping your knees tucked to you as you do so to give him the room he needs to please you. Another whimper slips out of you when you’re met with the sight of him between your legs; lips and chin glossy, face flushed pink, finger—fingers, oh fuck—now pumping into you lazily as his tongue slides out of his mouth to toy with you. You were hypnotized by the sight of your pussy being stretched open by his digits, his fingers covered in a sheen of arousal every time he pulls them out; then he shoves them back in and licks at your stuffed entrance to make you shake.

You could feel your throat closing in as your entire body is flooded with pleasure; like every fuck of his fingers were shoving your insides up your body until they got pushed to your throat. The desperate whines and whimpers that were leaving your lips slowly turn into wracked sobs and cries that get broken off with gasps that send blood pounding in Eren’s cock.

“Eren, Eren I-I’m gonna—fuck!” Your eyes squeeze shut, nails dig into his scalp, and your body begins to tense. The coil in your stomach grows tighter, winding and winding itself around Eren’s fingers, begging to be released.

It felt so good. It was so good—not only the stimulation to your body but the satisfaction that was flooding your brain. Pure contentment and security were all you felt as you lay bare and vulnerable at Eren’s disposal; because even though you presented him the opportunity to overpower you, to overwhelm you, to force himself onto you, you were safe with the knowledge that he would be disgusted even with the thought of such.

“Oh, baby—fuck. Come on, cum for me, let me feel it,” Eren begs, lifting his head from your cunt to lay it against your thigh, watching your face twist as you fall apart from the inside out.

In a last moment effort to push yourself over the edge, your fingers release the sheets and snake themselves down between your thighs. Still tangled in his hair, you push your other hand to the back of his head, shoving his mouth down to where your other fingers tease at your clit. Eren lets out a deep groan when he feels your fingers beneath his tongue, realizing that you’re aiding him in the search for your release.

“I—oh, God, don’t-don’t stop.” You plead, “Fuck, Eren, please.”

“‘wasn’t- I wasn’t planning on it,” He chokes, feeling your cunt beginning to flutter around his fingers and your legs strain in his grip, “Are you cummi—shit, you’re cumming, fuck,” and then he brings his mouth back down to drink down what you give him.

Your arms concurrently fall weak and grow tense, twitching in the air as you’ve pulled them away from between your thighs and from his hair. Wracked sobs are forced out of your throat as his fingers curl impossibly deeper, sending powerful waves of pleasure up through your veins until it explodes in your head and fireworks burst behind your squeezed eyes.

Eren watches you carefully, tongue still tasting you, but his eyes are flit upwards to admire your face as you break for him. Your beautiful face, contorted with the pleasure that he gave you, and your beautiful body, visible proof of just how ruined you are.

Poor, poor you; wrecked from his fingers and tongue, painfully naive to just how much worse his cock will tear you apart. You beg for it. Coming down from your orgasm, you sit up weakly, reaching for the waistband of his briefs—the final layer.

“Is this okay?” You ask him.

Eren’s heart thumps violently in his chest, swelling until he’s struggling to swallow. He watches as your hands pause on his hips. He looks over your heaving chest, covered in his own spit, and then to your face, your eyes wide and filled with need as you look up at him.

He gives himself a moment, breathes in deeply through his nose, lets the tension in his muscles dissipate, then brings a gentle hand to your face and holds you gently in his palm.

He smiles, then nods, “Yeah… yeah, it is.”

The final layer is shed, slid down by two pairs of hands. You’re pushed up the bed, head resting back on one of the soft pillows. The dark oak nightstand beside his bed is left with an open drawer as Eren returns to the bed with both his hands full. The puffy sheets give under the weight of a small bottle of lubricant that’s placed beside the two of you, and the mattress gives under the pressure of Eren settling himself before you, with a small, square-shaped, foil package between his fingers.

Kneeling between your legs, with your thighs open spread for him, Eren locks eyes with you as he begins to tear open that pretty little package. Your body burns beneath his gaze, chest and face flushing hot, but between your thighs slickens as your eyes land on the sight of his abdominals twitching to try and keep up his heavy cock. You shiver, skin scattering with goosebumps because he’s beautiful.

Once he’s rolled the condom over his length, Eren reaches beside you to grab a spare pillow. It’s taken in his right hand as he sits back up, and he takes your hip in his other hand, “Can you lift your hips for me?”

You dig your heels into the mattress and lift your body, and Eren takes the space beneath you and fills it with the pillow in his hand. When you lower yourself back down, you’re met with the plush of the pillow, and your hips are tilted just ever so slightly higher up to give him a better angle.

He picks up the lubricant, hands shaking as he drips it into his palm, and then he slowly slathers it over his cock. He hisses quietly under his touch, dick throbbing and lashes fluttering from the sensation of his slippery hand pumping over him. It’s not the lubricant that has his veins sparking, but the knowledge that you’re laying before him stretched out and spread open, ready to be filled with everything he can give you.

“It won’t hurt as much like this, ‘promise,” He says softly, removing his hand from himself and sliding the remaining slick on his hands with the arousal between your legs.

You’re wound up with anticipation, and you gasp at the slide of his fingers over you once more. Your heart beats erratically, both with anxiety and excitement, but the border between the two begins to blur as Eren slides just a little closer; the hard of him pressing against the inside of your thigh and his hands cupping over your knees.

“Talk to me.” He smooths over your knees, the pressure spreads them just a bit more, and the residue of lubricant shines in their wake. He sees himself so close to being inside you, and it makes him shiver.

“I’m okay,” You swallow hard and give him a reassuring nod. You reach out to where his knees are bent beneath your thighs and touch him similarly as he does to you, soothingly.

As Eren shifts a bit closer, you tighten up as you anticipate the blunt head of him pressing against you. But that’s not what you get. With your thighs on either side of his body, resting over his own, Eren gets close enough to you to place his hard cock on your stomach; with his balls pressed against your folds, the base resting on your clit, and the shaft straining up your abdomen.

You furrow your brows in the slightest, confused with his motives. He kneels there unmoving between your legs, only watching the length of him stretch up your stomach as his hands grip your thighs. So, you look with him. Coated with glossy lubricant, he drips onto your stomach, your skin sheening from where it smears across your skin. The pressure on your clit is only noticed when your eyes reach the base of him, and you hope he doesn’t feel the way your insides throb at the sensation.

And then, as you scan your eyes up the length of him, recognizing just how truly big he is, you realize what he’s doing.

He’s sizing you up.

He was sizing you up, seeing how deep he’ll go, seeing how wide he’ll stretch you out before he puts it in, seeing if he’ll fit.

The anticipated tension catches up with you and hits you like a train. Your body tightens up and stiffens because you’re all of a sudden worried that the space between your legs isn’t anatomically wide enough for the girth of him, worried that your cunt isn’t deep enough for his length.

But Eren’s quick to calm you down. With a gentle voice and slow rocking of his hips, sliding his shaft through the split of your folds, he says, “Hey, look at me,” while giving your tense thigh a gentle tap.

With wide eyes, you bring your gaze up from where he rests against your navel and up to him.

“Just look at me. I’ll go real slow, okay? I’ll fuck you so slow, baby.”

His words do more than just ease the tension in your body, at the mention of him fucking you, your hips jerk and join in the sensual sliding of him through you. A tiny moan slips through your lips as he lets out a tight exhale, his jaw clenching and abdomen flexing, hair falling into his eyes as his head grows heavy.

“‘ren?” Your voice is meek, “I wanna see you—wanna see your face.”

It’s a quick flick of his eyes to yours, and then to the hair tie on his wrist before he’s slipping it off and running his fingers through his hair to fix it to the back of his head. Out of haste, it was a little messier than he usually preferred to have; missing the entire base of his neck and leaving a few strands in his face. You both knew it would be a burden to brush out the knot of hair and elastic he had made when you finish, but neither of you seemed to care.

Pulling his hips back, he takes his base in his hand and aligns himself with your center; tip finding where your body splits. He feels you tighten against his sensitive head, and he swallows down a heavy groan.

He’ll fit, he knows he will, but it’ll hurt as always. You seemed to be made for him. No matter the thick of your thighs nor the width of your hips—it was an odd thought that he had—he believed that the build of your pelvis was just wide enough but just tight enough, that he would be the only one who would fill you perfectly.

“This okay?” He asks again, and you almost groan out of pure impatience.

After your quick nod and affirming words, he leans over your body with his left hand planted beside your head. The shift in position has the pressure of his cock pushing against your entrance by accident, and you gasp. Your hand finds his forearm, blunt nails digging into the muscle while your eyes shoot to where you feel him pressing against you.

“Look me in the eyes when I put it in.” He says, but it’s a command rather than a plea. You can hear it in the tone of his voice; that this wasn’t something he was asking of you, but something that he needs from you. So, you bring your eyes up from where they seemed to be stuck where you’re connected and catch them on his.

“There you go,” He whispers, and then the pressure at your cunt increases.

They were right when they spoke about the pain of losing your virginity; a deep ache, a burning stretch. No matter how prepared you were, no matter how thoroughly you were stretched and slicked, the body wasn’t used to being filled like that, so of course, it would hurt. It had you gasping and straining, thighs clamping around his waist, and hand fisting the bedsheets, but despite the ache and the pinch, it was nowhere near as bad as you expected.

The pain was there, but the intensity of it wasn’t. Perhaps it was because you were high off endorphins, your body flooded with hormones that blocked out discomfort, so filled with indescribably positive emotions that you can’t even care to think about how bad the pain could be, but you couldn’t care either way.

Only the head of his cock has begun to slip inside the tightness of your body, but it feels like you’re being split in half. It was so much; so much pressure in your pelvis, so much trying to bully its way in. You could feel your body squeezing up and trying to push him back out, not used to the size of the intrusion, and wanting to act against you.

“Let me in, baby,” Eren murmurs softly, his words easing up your body and turning your insides soft, “That’s it… that’s my girl.”

And his praise only continues to help. Every word that leaves his lips has another ounce of pain decreasing, which allows your body to loosen up just a bit more, which lets Eren slip himself inside you just a little farther. But every slip deeper shoots another dull ache into your veins, and the process has to repeat itself. It’s slow and strenuous as you both try to ease him in, and even after a good few minutes of work, only the head of him has pushed its way inside. The ridge where his shaft turns into his head is where the entrance of your cunt is grasped around tightly.

He stills there, unmoving, abdomen straining to keep his body from falling into yours. It’s a hard task for more reasons than one. The muscles in his body are burning hot and trembling from both the strain he’s using to hold himself up and the effect you have on his body, and then the sweet little whimpers and mewls that slip out of you make it so difficult for him to hold back the urge to bottom out and hear you cry his name.

“Eren,” You say breathlessly, the lines of pain and pleasure in your voice beginning to blur, “I—oh shit—please.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—yes.”

“Is—” Eren cuts himself off, pulling out slightly, just the head, then pushes it back into where it was, “Is this okay?”

This. This, this, this; the gentle fucking of the tip of his cock into you, slowly, shallowly, just letting you stretch around the curves of his head until your gasps and chokes of pain slowly fade into soft moans and needy whines.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s- It’s good,” You nod your head drunkenly, mind going fuzzy from the growing pleasure in your stomach.

Eren’s jaw slacks and his cock throbs, and the sudden gasp it pulls from you tells him that you had felt him shift inside you. You’re too pretty, too warm, too tight, too wet; even as the condom dulls the full effect of your insides, Eren’s still at his wit’s end. He’s the first to fill you up, he’s the first dick inside you, he’s in the process of taking your fucking virginity, and it’s driving him insane.

“‘gonna give you some more, okay? ‘gonna fill you up real nice,” His voice is weak and strained, but he still exudes the comfort that you need when you feel him push deeper and deeper.

There are a few moments where tears prick your vision as the stretch of your body grows too painful to continue. Eren stops diligently, cooing at you softly, petting your face after his forearms brace to the bed, and slipping a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies to circle your clit to counteract the pain. He asks over and over again if you wished for him to stop, so much so that you would have found it annoying if it wasn’t so endearing, but you decline every time.

You only come to realize that his hips are flush with yours when you’re pulled out of your haze by a deep groan that reaches your ears. Eren’s buried his face into the crook of your neck, his body completely flush with yours to the point where you can feel him shake, and he has to take a moment to breathe because Jesus-fucking-Christ he almost just came.

The tight and wet warmth of you squeezing and holding every inch of him has him fighting off an orgasm. It was beyond pathetic. He could feel his cheeks turning red just thinking about how humiliating it would have been if he would’ve tapped out his first stroke like a damn virgin. You have completely and utterly wrecked him with your only weapon being your existence.

It takes a minute for him to come down, but thankfully that minute wasn’t full of awkwardness. You yourself were trying to wrap your mind around the feeling of having your belly filled until no space was left. When you thought about it before, fantasized about him late at night with your fingers shoved knuckle deep inside you, you had expected the feeling to be similar to that you would experience after eating too much. But it wasn’t that. Even feeling him deep inside you and pushing against spots that you never knew existed, it wasn’t what you could necessarily describe as ‘full’. Sure, you were full, yes, but only because you were vacant before. And now that you are overflowing with purely him, you never want to be empty again.

“You’re… you’re inside me…” You breathe, voice saturated with awe.

Eren lifts off of you quickly yet cautiously at your words, “I’m… yeah, I am. Oh God, fuck, I’m inside you.” He sits back on his calves again, just enough so he can bring his eyes to where he sees himself sitting inside you.

He acts involuntarily, slowly tilting his hips back and forth, watching his cock slip in and out of you. It’s careful and cautious, a gentle easing you open; not moving enough to bring you discomfort, but moving just enough to see the slick of your insides coat a sheen over his length. He was gauging your reactions again, learning when to stop, when to keep going, what feels good, and what bothers you.

“Eren…” You whine out of embarrassment, face burning at the thought of him staring down the most intimate parts of you. But you don’t want him to stop; the gentle pumping inside you was growing more pleasurable with every pass of him through your walls, and it was quickly becoming something you needed more of.

“Talk to me… please.” He’s in a daze, too flooded with differing emotions to try and pick out which one he thought he was supposed to feel. He hopes that your next words will help him sort it all out; he doesn’t want to be ecstatic if you’re in pain, doesn’t want to be aroused if you’re uncomfortable.

You choke on a whine, taking a few gasping breaths before speaking, “‘feels… feel so full. I—oh God,” You cry, squeezing your eyes shut and reaching a shaky hand down to your cunt to feel where his cock splits you open. You feel around the intrusion, mapping out the spread of your folds, the stretch of your entrance, the girth of his body impaling you, realizing just how much you were having to take. “It’s so much.”

“I know, I know, I can see how fucking- fucking stuffed you are.” Eren stammers weakly, his head buzzing and his hands smoothing over the fat of your thighs to try and ground himself. “‘feels good?”

“Mhm,” You whimper, nodding alongside the sweet noise leaving your lips.

You grind your hips against his, both for emphasis and for stimulation, and let yourself get used to having something inside you. Eren gently plays with your clit as you shift him around in your depths, savoring every squeeze of your cunt, every gush of your walls as the pain slowly and gradually subsides itself into nothingness.

Just as he reaches deeper inside you, the pleasure you feel hits deeper as well. It’s something that bursts in your chest and swells up into your throat until every slow stroke of his hips into you has you choking up and crying. It turns your limbs weak and fuzzy, burns you up and boils you from the inside out. It was profound, intoxicating, addicting, and you want him to give you more.

“Kiss me, please. I wanna kiss you,” You beg, reaching up with needy hands to take a hold of his face and coax him down to you.

Eren’s chest swells, and he gives in easily, leaning over your body and dropping to his forearms to softly take your lips in his. It’s a precious kiss, one where all his love pours off his tongue and pools into your mouth for you to swallow down. His love is traded for your whines, ones that are pulled from you as the shift of his body sends him just that much deeper inside you. Your legs tighten around his hips, wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the dimples at the base of his spine, shaking, trembling, and your hand flies between you to press against his stomach to push him out just a little.

Eren pulls from your lips, nose brushing against yours as he asks, “You okay?”

Your fingers twitch against the muscles of his stomach as you try and piece together your words, only eventually spitting out a tiny, “‘s so deep.”

So, Eren pulls out just a bit, holding down a groan that threatens to spill over with every inch of drag of him through the silky walls of your cunt. But that’s when it hits you, the first true and painless stroke. That’s when you realize why the fuck Eren Jaeger has so much sex… because it’s so good. The first moan that he’s pulled from you with his dick alone is absolute music to his ears; it was the first true sign of pleasure that you have ever experienced from having someone else inside you… and it was all caused by him.

“Oh God, baby,” He breathes, “‘so sensitive.”

He’s tainted your sweet and virginal body with every ounce of his being. He’s ruined your tight little cunt and stretched it out for his liking, carved out your insides for a perfect fit of him, made it completely impossible for anyone else to fill you the way he does. He’s wrecked you and fucked you up, rendered you sweaty and shaking and cock-drunk with only a few pumps to your insides. He’s single-handedly obliterated every last individual on Earth that ever had a chance with you.

Eren’s hands are clammy as they grip onto your hips, “Can I—shit, I don’t know how to say this—can I—please.” His voice strains as he loses his words, “I want to- wanna fuck you so bad.”

You tighten around him, insides squeezing down on the hard of his cock until he groans shakily and his eyes flutter shut. Deep in the pit of his stomach, a ball of fire rolls around and swelters, it burns hotter with every passing second, expands with every minute, shifts his organs aside as it grows and burns. It was a fire that you lit the flame to; a fire that together, you pour gasoline on until the flames at its surface flicker blue. It licks at his insides, bites at his groin, blazes so hot that he sweats and pants like a dog. But he doesn’t want the fire to go out, he wants it to burn him alive.

“Yeah, just… gosh, yes, please.” You exhale, all tension leaving your body to be replaced with relief.

And at that, Eren does. Pulling himself out of you slowly, savoring the tight heat of your body, and listening to your soft whines in response to his movements, he brings everything out until only the head of his dick remains engulfed by the warmth of your cunt, and then, he pushes back in.

Your body gives easily, still a bit tight, but so much easier than it had when he was working himself in for the first time. It doesn’t resist his intrusion, doesn’t tighten up at the foreign sensation, it sucks him in and pulls him deeper until his balls are smushed up against the curve of your ass and both of you shudder from the pleasure that wracks your bodies.

And then he does it again, and again, and again; watching your pretty face melt and your body go weak as you’re filled over and over with the fat of his cock. The beautiful moans that follow his every thrust scratch a certain itch in his brain, and every whimper of his name as he wrecks your being fulfills his every need in his life.

There was nothing that either of you needed more than this; not just the sex, not just the pleasure, but the pure and unadulterated vulnerable intimacy that tugs at your heartstrings and pricks tears to your vision. You both could cry; not because it hurt, and not because it was sad, but because you were so filled with happiness that your body couldn’t hold anymore of it inside you so it chose to leak from your being in the form of tears. The sensation, the stimulation, the emotion, and the passion, and the devotion—they all pile on top of each other until they tip themselves over and crash to the ground in an explosion of white light. It’s beautiful.

Your hands dig their fingers into the muscles of his back, blunt nails etching into his skin, piercing his flesh at a microscopic level like you were trying to bury yourself inside him like he is with you. Your thighs squeeze around his waist so hard, tug him so close to your body, that not one inch of skin on your body isn’t covered with the warmth of him. And even then, you grind your hips up against his, wanting closer, wanting his everything.

He alternates between burying his face in the crook of your neck, biting at the thin skin, nipping at your ears, licking at the line of your jaw, and choosing to lift himself up until your foreheads, noses, and lips are brushing against each other; breathing in each other’s air, swallowing down each other’s moans with your lips, looking into each other’s eyes. But he chooses, on a particular switch to where his lips are pressed against your ear, he murmurs:

“You like it?”

And you can hear the way his smirk leaks into his voice; that cocky timbre, so smooth and so composed that for a minute you’re convinced he’s practiced it. But before you could even think about it for even a moment, the tones of his voice slam their effect into your cunt like a train, and you're tightening around him and choking out an answer in between wrecked sobs.

“Yes, it’s—oh fuck—it’s so fucking- so good,” It’s your turn to nuzzle your nose into his neck, breathing in the intoxicatingly deep and musky scent that’s pure Eren and pure sex, “I can’t, I- I need you.”

“I’m right here, I’m… I’m literally as close to you as I can possibly be,” He laughs breathily, lifting his head to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

“No, no, no,” Your head shakes with every word, “‘closer. ‘need you closer.”

Eren can’t say no when your hands are grabbing at his shoulders, when your body is bowing off the bed and into his, when your hips are lifting off the pillow beneath them to try and meet his thrusts and force him a bit deeper.

He can’t stop himself from shifting his weight to one forearm and sliding his other arm beneath your back to lift up your body just a bit to pull you closer to him when you’re pleading for him in such a sweet and needy voice.

And he can’t tell if it’s the slightest change in the position or the gratitude that fills your veins that forces the most beautiful noises from you; perhaps it’s a bit of both. With an arm beneath your body to hug your stomach against his, and a pillow beneath your hips to angle you right, Eren’s given the freedom to pound into that perfect little spot inside you that has your vision going spotty and your head feeling full.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, right there. Eren, please, please don’t stop,” You beg, lashes fluttering shut and eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock ruts into the deepest parts of you over and over and over.

“Right there?” He asks, punctuating his question with a particularly harsh snap of his hips.

“Mhm!”

He wishes he could let out a teasing laugh at your desperation, but every pulse of your walls around the length of him takes another breath out of his lungs, takes the strength out of his arms, and has him releasing you to the mattress as he’s forced to drop down to his elbows again. He curses himself for being unable to continue with the assault on your sweet spot, but you don’t seem to mind, for neither the volume nor frequency of your moans seem to decrease at the shift.

He takes your face in his hands, palms smushing your cheeks and thumbs resting on your chin, “You’re taking me so well,” He praises, running his thumb up to your bottom lip, “It’s like you were made for me—made for my cock.”

You’re convinced that there and then is when you lost your ability to think. You’re absolutely certain that at that moment, Eren had positively fucked you dumb. Even though you tried, tried so hard to let out a little mewl of appreciation, tried so hard to come up with a way to respond, tried so hard to even fucking think, you just couldn’t do it. Your mouth falls open, your eyes squeeze shut so tight that you see colors behind your lids, and your body tightens down on him so hard that for a second he thinks you’re cumming.

But he knows you better than that.

“You like me talking to you, don’t you, baby,” He hums. No questioning lies behind his words, but rather stating the obvious.

You give him a stupid little nod, shutting your mouth and taking your bottom lip between your teeth. He sounds muffled, like someone was holding your head underwater, but he also is the only thing you can hear, like the water clogging your ears was made up of him.

“You like hearing me tell you how good you’re taking me?” He continues, pulling your lip out from your bite, “‘how you’re such a good girl for doing so well for her first time, hm?”

“Yes—I love it, I love it so much,” Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, dripping down your face and leaving glistening streams of nothingness along your skin.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

The winding coil in your stomach has begun to strain, the copper wiring being pulled taught around its wheel. Eren can sense it too, deep in his gut he knows how close you are, and not only that, but he can read it on your body, all the way down to sensing the hairs on your arm stand on end. His ego fucking soars knowing that he is the one you’re going to cum around for the first time, that he brought you there by himself, and tipped you over the edge with only his voice.

“Eren,” You force out, “Eren, I’m—I… I’m gonna cum.” You warn him, voice tight.

“Jesus fuck. C’mon, cum all over me, cum all over my fucking cock,” He thrusts harder, speaking through his teeth.

Your lower stomach flexes, legs lock around his waist, and your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel yourself reaching the top of the rollercoaster, waiting for the moment that the cart flies down the rails.

“‘Ren—”

“Open your eyes, come on. Look at me when you cum,” He pleads, voice shaky, his own orgasm taunting him, but he refuses to let himself release before you do, “Please, baby—fuck.”

So with heavy eyelids and a blurry vision, you crack your eyes open so that as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, the only thing you can see is him. His cheeks are a pretty pink along with the bridge of his nose, and his face is glossed over with perspiration that’s lit aglow by the dim lamp still illuminating the room with a warm ambiance; the baby hairs on his forehead stick to his skin until they’re tinted dark by the dampness of his skin, and pretty violet bruises splotch over his neck and the divots of his collarbones; in his eyes, no more of that deep jade remains wrapped around his pupils, they’ve darkened to black, so deep and dark that you swear you could see yourself in them if you looked close enough.

And that’s all you think about. Him. Even as you release and leak down the base of him, even as your body is ablaze, the only thing that registers in your cock-drunk brain is Eren. His hands holding your face, his body moving in yours, your souls intertwining.

He feels everything as the walls of your cunt throb around the girth of him, the second heartbeat of your body, sucking him in and forcing him out in waves, squeezing from base to tip like you were trying to empty him. He looks into your eyes as you fall apart, at the way they glisten with tears; he looks at your face and the way your brows scrunch up and your lips part as you sing him such a beautiful siren song. And then, as you tug him into your depths, pressing your mouth to his, you swallow him whole, and he can no longer hold back the weight of his release.

You feel it when it happens. Despite being distracted by your own throbbing, you so strongly feel the way the underside of his cock pulses inside you as he cums. You feel his balls draw in tight to his body, and you feel them empty pulse by pulse into the condom, and you could be dreaming, but you swear you feel the warmth of his release even through the thin rubber.

“I feel you—I feel it, Eren, fuck.” You whimper into his mouth.

And even as he’s emptying himself of everything he has into the tiny little tip of the condom, he still asks in a strained voice, “Yeah? ‘feel me cumming?”

His words only draw out your orgasm for longer, sending another wave of euphoria through you, stringing it along until he’s empty, and only then does it settle.

The room is silent, save for the heavy panting of both of you trying to catch your breaths. Your heart thumps heavily in your ears to the point where you can feel every beat behind your eyes. Your bodies still stick together from the mess of sweat and release, skin tacky from the exertion.

Although his arms tremble and weaken, Eren uses the last bit of strength in his body to take your face in his hands and kiss you deeply. It’s a mess of spit and hot breath and his clammy hands sticking to your face, but you couldn’t have asked for anything else.

Eren hisses a small, “Fuck,” as he slips himself out of you, and he clenches his jaw from the overstimulation of taking the soiled condom off.

And then it’s done.

He lays back down beside you, snakes his arms around your waist and tugs your back to his chest, and buries his face into the crook of your neck. You relax in his hold, savoring the warmth of his body and smiling at the soft kiss he presses to your neck.