𝓥.

“Mhmm, just fuck me to punish me then?”

He rolled his eyes but glanced at the time on your alarm clock on the bedside table.

You always did that when he had to go to work. And not the legal kind of work. Eren was a hitman and a literal criminal outside of killing people for money. He couldn't disappoint his boss for too long before being killed or, at best, tortured.

“I was here all day and you preferred to talk to me about astrology,” he sighed.

“No astrology slander in my house!”

“It’s my house, I pay the bills, you’re just here for decoration.”

You spat on his face. Deadass. Eren blinked for a few moments, trying to understand if the saliva on his cheek was a hallucination or if you really wanted him to strangle you to death.

“You want to play that game?” he asked, his voice as sinister as his expression.

You shivered, fighting the urge not to smile out of excitement. “I…”

“I’m going to play with you, don’t worry.”

He released your throat and moved away. You whined, disappointed, but swallowed hard as he went to get the object whose name was not to be spoken.

“Eren… I was joking…”

“What?” he chuckled. “You don’t think the game is funny anymore?” He leaned down to kiss the exposed parts of your stomach through your crop top, his hands slipping under your denim mini-skirt. Your legs trembled, and he lifted his head to smirk at your scared expression. He waited for the safe word, to know if you were really against it, but it never came.

“Fucking performative,” he scoffed.

He roughly pulled off your panties, and his fingers caressed your core, preparing you for the long hours of overstimulation the sex toy would provide.

“Eren, I can’t do that shit, I’m stripping tonight, I can’t be aroused during work.”

You tried to stop rolling your hips to take more of his fingers inside, but it was impossible.

“I forgot I was ‘Captain Save a Hoe’ because my girlfriend is a fucking stripper,” he grumbled.

It wasn’t that simple. He knew it was a coping mechanism for you, and he never judged you for it. You were both very troubled people. BDSM had always been the best way to externalize your traumas. So your need to regain control of your body by making money from its objectification wasn’t a problem.

The problem with stripping was that not all clients were respectful. He fought his urges to lock you up in your apartment when you came home with a new experience of unwanted touching.

“Watch your tone when you talk about me I’m gonna spit on you again.”

“Yeah?” His fingers plunged into you while his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. “I’m so excited to see that. You want me to be mean?”

You clenched your thighs around his wrist, moaning. “Shut your damn mouth.”

The stimulation of his hand didn’t last long because he put the sex toy in place, at a low intensity for the moment. He had the remote control to increase when he's at work to lead your clit to burnout.

“Rennieeeeeee!” You threw yourself at him when he got up from the bed and hugged him from behind. “Just have sex with me, stop doing that. You work too much and now you do weird stuff like this. They are exploiting you.”

“Complaining about laws for an illegal job,” he laughed and pushed you away to put on a black t-shirt.

You already missed seeing the tattoo about your own astrology sign on his lower abdomen. Eren loved to talk shit about your love for spiritual stuff, but he always respected it secretly. His whole body was just tattoos about you, your favorite things he always mocked in real life. When you were almost hurt about his mean tone, you just have to undress him to remember he is a loverboy spirit in a jerk body.

At this point, he should just accept he was a simp. The cute blue penguin keychain he has on his jeans that matched your pink one was a sign he should accept this very quickly. He didn’t fool you when he said he was a feminist and won’t do that immature stuff as a grown ass man. He had it on him the next day, and was unfazed by Connie’s reaction at his job. He was the best hitman in his organization, people needed to leave him alone and let him wear matching stuff with his woman, especially Connie who burst out of laughing every time he saw the penguin.

“You know you’re kinda cringe with that,” you mocked when he put on his sneakers.

He glanced at you, and then at the bed with many plushies of anime male characters he was forced to sleep with, and decided he wouldn’t fall for the ragebait of the queen of cringe herself.

After some whining from you, you accompanied him to the front door.

He pushed the braids that were in front of your shoulders to let them in your back, the sound of the beads at the end clashing together made him smile. He wasn't stupid, you always wore the hairstyle he found you the most beautiful with when his birthday was near. And that asshole was specific. Boho braids that stopped around the shoulders with beads. Even your braider knew it was Eren's birthday when you asked for that hairstyle.

He leaned to kiss your forehead. “Send me a video when you will cry because it's too much, I love seeing that,” he said softly, but his soft tone didn't hide his sadistic tendencies to force you to wear sex toys.

“I won't cry for your lame ass punishment.”

“You love lying, baby.”

He kissed you but pushed you away when you wanted to add your tongue. You made an indignant expression and cursed him out as he chuckled, leaving the apartment.

The pleasant late afternoon air caressed his skin as he touched his pocket outside the building. His eyes softened as he realized you'd bought him another pack of Malboro cigarettes without him telling you he was out and had slipped it into his jeans. He was an asshole, so that information didn't make him feel any guilt about his punishment. Your brave ass spat on him. You deserved it.

He sat in his car, driving unconsciously with one hand on the wheel and the other outside the window because you'd told him one day he looked sexy like that.

He parked near the organization disguised as a home cleaning company. Connie was smoking, sitting on the sidewalk across the street, and Eren took a breath to endure his umpteenth joke about his keychain.

“You wear that penguin for her here when she wears nothing at all at her job,” Connie snickered as they did their usual handshake.

“And I have hair and you don't, guess life is unfair ?”

“Man, fuck you.”

Some people walked near them, so Eren spoke in their secret language for their organization.

“What type of household chores should we do?”

“Tidy up mainly the office, there’s no big mess at the moment.”

Eren let out a groan. He hated doing the administration and logistics of drug and weapons dealing. It's sad to say but he was more comfortable killing people.

“You're the only one who applied for every job here, I don't know why you don't focus on one task.”

Eren tensed. Connie was just a good friend but he knew nothing about his father's debt he had to pay he didn't have time. The only friend who was so close to Eren, to the point that man followed him in his crimes, was Armin. But he had been murdered by his organization's enemies. Now, he avoided creating deep bonds there.

The organization was located in a remote corner of the city, its monotonous buildings bearing an old, cheesy commercial slogan for a home cleaning company. Once you entered, every floor seemed legitimate; there were even closets stocked with cleaning supplies. All criminal documents were hidden away in drawers secured with unbreakable locks.

Eren sat at his desk and began the tedious task of verifying that drug suppliers had been properly contacted with favorable prices. Then he had to contact all the associated dealers in the city to find out if they had been threatened recently, given the tensions that had arisen since Armin's murder.

He spent hours doing administrative work, ignoring his criminal colleagues who came to greet him. He was well-liked by the lower ranks and disliked by the higher ranks, who realized how much better Eren was than them and could be replaced quickly.

Joke on them, Eren had been ordered to take on more important missions, he refused and was tortured, but he kept his word. He wasn't there for loyalty, he was there for money.

It was only towards the end of his shift that he received a hidden call. He let out a heavy breath, already knowing it was his enemies. He always answered the call though, it was funny for him. They were only able to kill one man in a rivalry of 10 years when his boss killed 13 of their men. A very, very precious lost, but they were only an angry dog ​​that barks a lot and never bites.

“I fucked your girl,” one of them said on the phone first, Eren rolled his eyes. They always said that to any man in the organization who had a wife or girlfriend.

“Yeah, me too, every night. What do you want?”

“No, I really did. Look at that.”

The unknown number sends him a video. Eren frowned, thinking they wanted to install a virus on his professional phone, but clicked anyway since the phone was protected.

That's surely what the dinosaurs felt when the meteorite crossed the planet's atmosphere. The end of the world. That's the image he had in mind when he recognized the butterfly jewelry on the navel piercing of the woman in the video who was being fucked.

The angle of the video changed and he let out a painful noise when he also recognized the tattoo on her hip. The cute doodle tattoo they created when they were 15 and had it on both of their bodies. Showed on a video where multiple men fucked you.

He genuinely couldn't watch the dick comes in and out of her because the creamy arousal on it made him sick to his stomach.

He left the building without respecting his working hours, throwing the keychain in the trash before. This fuckass organization didn't even respect laws, who cares. 

He drove to your strip club in the deep darkness with his hands gripping the steering wheel far too tightly.

He should have reacted rationally. Thought. Considered whether you were capable of doing that. Found a logical explanation for why the love of his life would have done that.

But Eren was incapable of it.

Maybe his fear of being too much because of his mental issues was real. He felt things too deeply, too intensely. His impulsivity. His rage. His job as a hitman that makes him forget empathy. His morbid attachment to you. His passion and determination. Everything about him screamed borderline personality disorder. He knew that, he just refused to see a therapist. 

Was he really too much for you ?

He shook his head, he couldn't believe the hollow ache in his heart.

There was no way. There was no way the girl he knew since 10 years, was in love since he was 14 years old, engaged since he was 18 had cheated on him. With several men. He wanted to throw up when remembering the many hands on your thighs in the video.

But everything made sense. Since a few weeks, you asked for rougher sex, he had to learn knife play now for you. Everytime he wanted to be gentle, you asked him to go harder.

You felt guilty, and didn't think you deserved his gentle side.

He parked in the strip club's parking lot and lied to your manager about one of your closed ones dying, telling them you had to end your shift early when he went inside.

He couldn't hear the music while waiting for you, couldn't even look at the dancers around the poles. Everything was blurry and clear at the same time. His body was seething with the urge to blow up the entire planet, and he was bleeding so much he was surprised he wasn't crying with all the hurt you'd just caused him.

When you came in with hurried steps and a surprised voice about the supposed death, Eren just ignored you and left the strip club.

“You're that shocked about the death, who—”

“When you told me the sexual abuse made you obsessed with being objectified for money, was that a lie too?” He slammed your head violently against the hood of his car, ignoring your surprised and painful moan. “Because it seems to me, you are just a fucking traitor.”

“E-Eren, what the fuck? What are you talking about—”

“You know,” Eren cut in, his voice so cold that you trembled, “I really believed you when you told me sometimes rape victims aren't perfect victims. It made a lot of sense. But you aren't ashamed of yourself for faking a trauma just to cheat on me? Rape victims are a joke to you?”

Your whole body freezes. The most violent sentences he ever said to you and the most hurtful he could say to the helpless child you were when your mom's friend abused you.

You knew what he was talking about.

It was so dumb, so stupid, so ridiculous, but you thought what happened was a nightmare. When two weeks after it Eren still didn't know anything, you were reassured.

Deep down, you knew it was real. They told you they were gonna kill him if you talked.

“E-Eren, I—”

“I really loved you, you know that?” There was so much pain and resentment in his voice, he sounded like he was dying, breaking down in front of you. Tears prickled in your eyes, but your voice wouldn't come out to defend yourself.

You had a feeling of déjà vu.

Not just a feeling. This was the second time it had happened.

Your mother had the same voice. But tinged with a lot of misogyny. Because who in their right mind would believe a 35-year-old man saying a 13-year-old child seduced him?

Your mom, apparently, thats why she abandoned you in foster care. To cope, you thought it was good that she abandoned you so that you could meet the love of your life, even if he hated your guts now.

The trauma of her never believed your victim status was a ghost that never really left your body and mind.

And now, the ghost was as pained as you at the situation with Eren.

They could kill him if you told the truth. He could not believe you if you told the truth. Both of these options were death sentence for you, so you accepted the painful one of being seen as a cheater.

“I'm sorry, Eren,” you only could say as the tears fell on your face and accepted your fate.

“You're not sorry at all,” he chuckled darkly. “Your tears don't fool me.”

The sound of a belt being unfastened sent shivers down your spine, and you glanced around the parking lot, which was deserted except for a few unoccupied cars. Your fellow strippers were finishing at the same time as you, in three hours, so there shouldn't be too much trouble. Besides, it was the employee parking lot, behind the club.

“Eren, I—”

“Shut your damn mouth. I'm going to give you real sex since you want it that badly you searched for it from my own enemies.”

Eren's body trembled with rage. He needed to channel the destructive suffering he felt into something—sex, always sex. Because otherwise, he'd kill you in this parking lot.

For betraying him. Betraying your relationship. Betraying the ring on your finger. Betraying his initials tattooed on your finger. Betraying your name tattooed on his ribs.

You were his whole world, why did you even do that ?

Eren couldn't know. You were so scared. It was you enduring his rage or him getting killed. 

When he lowered the shorts part of your pink Juicy Couture set, your cheeks heat up at the disgusting damp thong you had on because of the sex toy.

“Always with these bimbo clothes. You should just stick to the whore clothing style, I wouldn't have confused you with the love of my life.” 

He tore down the underwear. He raised your head roughly, pulling your braids back and shoving the arousal-filled thong into your mouth, your muffled shocked sounds ignored.

“Just taste, baby. How does it taste ? The games we had ? The sexual routines ? Our hard limits ? Tell me how does it taste after you let these motherfucker be inside you.”

He nudged with his dick the feverish warmth between your legs, the disgust on his tongue making him pasty in the mouth and want to stop everything. He hated doing things like this. He wanted to make love to you, brutally, maybe, but lovingly. Not this weird hate fuck.

“I’m not your mom’s friend. I’m just mad,” he mumbled, embarrassed to even care about you. He spanked you, making the pillowy flesh of your ass bounce. “Don’t forget this.”

The brutal way he slid in, your wet folds welcoming him like a warm home, made you jolt. Your own taste on your tongue accentuated Eren's dominance. You couldn't see him, bent over the hood of his car, but his presence was everywhere. In the way he gripped your braids to harshly to make you see the starry sky, your mouth agape. In the way his dick just kept hitting and hitting the best spot, at the best pace, like he always did.

You wish you could see the anger in his eyes. The madness, the one he had when he came back at home after a paid murder. You always knew your boyfriend was mentally ill, but at this moment, his disturbed mind made you hot all over.

The loud noise of his pelvis hitting your fat ass echoed in the parking lot. You looked regularly towards the staff door to check that no one was going to see this humiliating spectacle.

But you loved that shit. You didn't want him to stop talking with you, kick you out, or block you. You wanted him to continue hating you while loving you so much that it was only when your sweaty bodies rubbed together that there was a moment of understanding.

Maybe one day he would forgive you.

A way of having a happy ending without revealing the tragedy you suffered at the hands of these men. A way of having the man of your dreams alive.

He will give you all his hatred and you will welcome it in a hug, cherishing it. Because at least, it will mean his heart still beats. And if it does, you won over these evil men.

“I need more,” I whimpered, spitting out your thong, begging him to even ruin you if he wanted.

“I think you forgot who’s taking the lead now,” he rasped, his pace picking up as he smashed your head against the car hood again.

The pain made you sobbing, part of your face swelling from the contact. But he angled his hips in such an exquisite way, your eyes closed just to savor how he killed this.

You wished things could be different as you sobbed against the hood.

It’s like you were doomed. You never had any chance in life.

If all you deserved was Eren’s violence, then you were going to take it.

At least he’s alive when he hurts you.

  ────────

You had locked yourself in the shower for hours because you couldn't hold back your tears. After coming home, Eren had destroyed all your favorite plates, the ones he'd given you for a birthday, torn down all the couple photos on your bedroom walls, and smashed the mirror by the bed that you'd specifically used for mirror sex. You had to watch him do all of that, unable to ease his pain by telling him it wasn't consensual when it happened.

Your brown skin hid the faint bruises they left when they held you down. They deliberately didn't hurt you too badly so the abuse would go unnoticed. A gun was pressed against your temple when they filmed it from an angle that showed telltale signs of you. They were so clever.

You spent so many years falling asleep on his chest, and he was the one who put on your satin bonnet. He was the one who made your breakfast when you got back from your shift. He was the one who ran your bath. He was the one who went to get your new makeup products once you'd finished using the old ones. He knew the shades of blush, foundation, and concealer by heart. 

What will your life be like now that he hates you?

You got out of the shower wrapping a towel around your body, thinking Eren was sleeping. But as soon as you came out of the shower, you encountered his murderous gauze, freezing you on the spot.

“Why didn’t you wear the waist beads I bought you during it? A way of respecting me when you let them penetrate MY woman?”

“Eren, I…”

“Answer, I don’t give a shit about you anymore.”

“I didn’t want to feel your presence during it, I forgot it there,” you whispered, your tearful eyes looking at the floor. Being raped with your boyfriend’s gift around your body was too heartbreaking.

“So loving of you. I’m gonna make your life such a nightmare. You’re gonna regret betraying me forever, love.”

You didn’t know until now we could use the ‘love’ pet name with so much hatred in a voice.

“Do you…” You struggled to speak. “Do you still want me to live with you?”

“I already told you why you can’t live alone.”

You hid your relief, your shoulders relaxing. “But you hate me now, why do you care if your enemies kill me?”

Eren tensed, looking away. “Mind your damn business.” He sat on the sofa. “You're going to sleep here. I threw away your useless anime stuffed animals.”

You took a deep inhale. “Okay.”

“Did you give them information?” Eren asked as  you sat on the couch.

“Why would I do that?”

His gaze hardened. “Why would you let them be inside you?”

I stared at the floor. You hated how he genuinely believed you let them do that, but you can't tell him. Eren will absolutely want to destroy them and they will know you talked and kill them or even both of you. Eren always told you how much they weren't very skilled, but they were. They just killed Armin, a very smart element in the organization and now they are stressing out the other one who is important.

“I wasn’t very… satisfied with you lately.”

Eren chuckled, a sad chuckle, a broken chuckle. You knew he wanted to cry. You want too, again.

He just left you in the living room and slammed the door.

You fell asleep on the couch, heart heavy.

────────

Eren looked at you sleeping, wondering how the fuck that shit could have happened. 

Was it during a sleep over with your stripper friends?

How could you do this to him?

You were getting married. He was supposed to take your last name.

You understood each other on so many levels. So many people were uncomfortable with foster kids. People didn't want to deal with your pain. Nobody had the same trauma as you. A boy abandoned by his father and used for his father's debts. A girl, a victim of sexual abuse by a family friend and abandoned by her mother. You only had the two of you to feel less alone, more seen and more heard.

So why did you do this?

The video played in his brain, constantly, all night.

Now that you were asleep, his rage left, replaced by just sorrow and pain.

He loved so badly, what did you mean you weren't satisfied anymore?

He nuzzled his head against your soft stomach, inhaling the mixture of scents between your cocoa butter oil and the Sol de Janeiro body cream he always bought you. They touched your stomach. They must have even cummed on it; his own belly twisted at the thought.

He clenched his fists, fighting the disgust inside him.

He cried a bit, but he wasn't sad. Maybe he tried to connect with you with his tears on your skin; maybe physiologically you would understand how much you had hurt him. Maybe you still didn't care.

He wiped away his tears and left the apartment. He was so tired, but he had to return to the organization at dawn. He had to alert everyone that his enemies were planning something nasty. Even if you were a cheater, he knew damn well they had found you and not the other way around.

────────

You were woken up by a torrent of water on your face, making you feel like you were choking.

“I wasn’t that mean yesterday, but I came to my senses,” Eren scoffed. “I really realized that shit. You let several men sleep with you? While you're engaged? You deserve hell.” 

You coughed but froze when you saw he was shirtless, clearly fresh from the shower, wearing only sweatpants and with damp hair. It wasn't the fact that he was shirtless that made your eyes widen in pain. It wasn't missing his abs rubbing against your thick body, his hard planes against your softer curves, that you missed.

You missed his tattoos about you. He had covered them. All of them. Your name under his ribcage had been replaced with something else.

“Eren…” 

He stiffened at your trembling voice. He hated hurting the woman he loved so dearly, but you didn't care about him. Or that's what he thought.

“What? Surprised? I don't want your name on me anymore.”

Was this really how you were going to end up?

When he's finished paying off the debt his father forced him to bear by disappearing, is this what you'll have left? You, with all your tattoos about him, hoping he'll forgive you one day, and him with all his tattoos about you forgotten under a new ink?

Maybe death would have been a better choice.

“You're going to stop stripping.”

“Eren—”

“You weren't protected during it, I saw their dicks,” he spat with disgust. “I don't know what you're doing with your clients during private dances.”

“I took a pill, Eren.”

“I hope so, I would have killed that baby.”

You shivered, a bit horrified at how mean Eren can be when angry.

“Anyway, it's not about pregnancy. Sexually transmitted diseases are a thing, if you didn't know. You disgust me anyway. Find another job. I don’t buy your coping mechanism bullshit anymore.”

Your body was vibrating with him screaming they raped you so he would stop ruining the good things in your life but you couldn't because that scream might kill him as a result.

“Can I ask Jean if I can work with him?” you asked, apprehension in your voice.

He glared at you.

“So you fucked him too?”

“Eren, you know damn well I'm only friends with people from my club. Jean left it, but kept my number. He works in another bar now.”

“I also thought I knew you loved me.”

“I do, Eren. A lot. So much.”

He burst out of laughing and you looked away, drying your wet braids.

“You're really funny,” he muttered before leaving the living room.

Getting tattooed for hours just to let go of the urgency of not having you on his skin anymore was painful, but such a relief. Ony, his tattoo artist was so talented.

But he loved you so much, it felt so strange to not see your big ass name on his sides when he looked in the bathroom mirror. You were all his life but he was just a chapter for you.

He still hadn't slept yet. When he woke up, his hand was grabbing your breast and you rubbed your ass against his morning erection on purpose, but now you cheated on him because you weren't satisfied anymore. Life was so weird.

He loved you deeply so of course he winced when he remembered what he said about your trauma with your mom's friend.

He didn't truly believe you lied. He was here when you cried during sex when you were still a teen. But he was just confused.

It didn't make any sense, and he was too hurt to even seek answers from you.

He put on a t-shirt and he flinched when you came in the bedroom to get dressed.

“Who you’re gonna fuck now?” he asked, disdain barely hidden in his voice.

“Jean.”

It's like you stopped trying to deny what he thought of you. You had already made your choice, now you had to play the game.

He let out a heavy breath.

“Have fun, since hurting me is your new kink. Must be the weird graduation of the dominance you wanted since a few weeks ago.”

You almost lost control of your resolve to tell him you need rougher sex to numb yourself from the trauma but you kept your mouth shut and tried to act bored. Even though it was still raining in your heart.

────────

“Wow, I would never thought you and Eren would be over,” Jean said, drinking his cocktail.

The Emerald, the bar where Jean worked now, used its name perfectly. Luxury green was everywhere with chairs, tables and plants. Drinking in this bar was like drinking in a comforting lush jungle.

“Yeah, time changes relationships,” you lied.

Jean looked at you nervously, not knowing if it was the right time to tell you that he had a crush on you.

“So you…”

“How can someone who cheated be forgiven?”

He widened his eyes. “He cheated?”

“Jean, please answer the question.”

“I would never forgive cheating.”

You stiffened. “Even it’s the love of your life?”

“The love of my life wouldn’t cheat on me.”

You fell silent, your eyes watering but managed to leave your slight tears unnoticed.

────────

Eren was so tired. Tired of you. Tired of his life. It's been 48 hours and he's still awake because he had to work.

As he was stalking a new target, parked in front of a restaurant, he tried not to fall asleep even though his eyes kept closing on their own.

He needed money. He never refused assassination contracts.

But as he drove behind the target's car after he finished his dinner and headed home, other cars were behind him.

“Fuck, I'm so dumb,” he grumbled. He got in his fucking car and forgot to take the ones with tinted windows from his job.

Of course, a mafia boss would want to eliminate a novice who was stalking him and realized he was being sent by someone.

He drove like a maniac and accelerated to escape the cars chasing him, his need for sleep forgotten. His life was at stake. This mafia boss was Russian, the assassination contract was from his Italian rival, they didn't know the streets of the city very well. Unlike Eren, who had grown up here.

In the deserted streets, the men behind him tried to shoot him, damaging the car. Eren let out a groan, grabbing a handbag you'd left on the passenger seat floor and putting all your personal information in it. They'll maybe find him. But he can still protect your life.

He used the car's full speed to get ahead before jumping out and running between alleyways he knew they couldn't come by car. He looked ridiculous with your Miu Miu bag in his hand, which cost him almost three thousand dollars. But it was your engagement gift; he would do anything to please you and buy everything on your wishlist. When he arrived at the apartment after half an hour of intense sprinting, he collapsed on the sofa to sleep, covered in sweat.

────────

The soft sound of the television finally woke him, and he frowned at the sight of a plate of kuru fasulye with rice on the table. He glanced at you, watching yet another Cheetah Girls movie, and it made him roll his eyes.

“You need to get off these movies.” 

Your heart swelled at his calm tone; maybe you were lucky today. You opened your mouth to say happy birthday, but fell silent at his outburst.

“Who told you to cook my favorite Turkish dish? You think I’m that stupid to forgive you for that?” 

He pushed the plate away, and it crashed to the floor with a loud clatter, the food spilling out. An uncomfortable lump formed in your throat. You wanted to tell him that you'd followed the true recipe of his culture and had soaked the beans for hours in cold water, just the way it should be, while he slept, but he'd think you were trying to manipulate him.

You had enough self-respect not to just bend down and clean up the mess he'd made. You ignored him and watched the TV again, focusing on the movie.

But Eren grabbed a handful of your braids and pulled them so you fell onto his chest. You let out a groan of relief at the thought of him being close to you after hours of hatred. And he was sweaty. It was disgusting, but you nuzzled his chest.

Eren's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, inhaling your scent. His shoulders relaxed when he recognized the cocoa butter oil scent and that one popular body cream.

"You didn't fuck Jean. You still smell like yourself."

"Maybe I just sucked his dick."

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill you.” He pulled on your braids even harder, glaring at you, but you chuckled nervously at the absurdity of the situation. You kept lying and he believed your nonsense, but he thought you lied on the only real true thing: your love for him.

He was still too groggy, so he rubbed his eyes. He looked so cute like this, you leaned down to kiss his cheeks. He narrowed his eyes but stayed silent, as if he needed that kiss after all.

“Don’t open the door to anybody if I’m not here and don’t leave home without a gun.”

“Why?”

“You made me act like a moron at work with all this exhaustion,” he treated the subject in a trivial manner before looking at you better. “Do you remember how to use a gun?”

“Of course, you taught this when we were still teenagers.”

“When you still acted like you loved me.”

Your lips parted, you paused. Silence. You stared at each other, you trying not to cry because you loved him more than anything, he trying not to kill you for what he thought you'd done.

You were thinking about your engagement.

Marriage was an obligation for some. An act of love. Or a religious reason.

For you and Eren, getting married was your chance to connect with others. To be more than just foster kids. To finally be normal, to have people ask you normal questions. No more pity, embarrassment, or discomfort. You were a married couple who had gone through so much trauma together, and people would find it beautiful. Nobody would think you were broken.

But what about now?

“About…”

“Shut up, go clean up.”

“I’m not going to clean up the mess of a grown ass white man.”

Eren's eyes shot daggers but he got the message, and you chuckled again seeing him cleaning up his own mess. You wanted to cry so badly, everything hurts, but you were laughing. Maybe you will end up with dementia at this point.

  ──────── 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

Eren acted like like a fucking lunatic.

One hour, he will be teasing you, the next one you would cry because he has his gun against your temple, forcing you to show him your text messages. 

He struggled with so many stuff that stressed him out. The debt. Armin’s death. Your “cheating”.

So today, when he came home from work, dark circles under his eyes, you thought it was normal. He had always been tired of his job as a hitman, and you always took care of him when you could.

But he collapsed in the entryway of your apartment.

Worried, you wrapped your arms around him, and he let out a pained groan.

“Eren?”

“Leave me alone,” he muttered, his voice weak.

Your hands went to his back to help him up. His back was damp; you thought it was sweat. But when he rested his head on your shoulder and leaned on you to walk to the sofa, you realized with horror that you had blood on your hands.

Once he was seated, you took off his clothes and tried not to get goosebumps at the sight of his muscular thighs, abs, and how blessed nature had him.

When you saw the deep, bloody wounds on his back, you shivered.

"Did they ask you to change ranks again?"

"No," he whispered, his voice so frail it twisted your stomach, "I'm just being punished for the target I missed a few weeks ago."

"Why does your boss torture you all the time when you're one of his best men?" You started disinfecting his wounds.

“He’s not my boss. He’s the higher-ups. They’re jealous because they want to keep their positions,” he breathed.

“But you don’t want their positions!” 

He chuckled but groaned at the pain it caused since he’d also been hit in the ribs.

“That’s why they’re idiots.” 

You quickly forgot the context of your current relationship and began to tend to his wounds as best you could, gently. You gave him painkillers and herbal tea to help him relax. Then, you took his face in your hands to see if he had a scratch.

“Don’t be fooled by my state, I still hate you.”

The venom in his voice made you stiffen and your eyes sadden. He pushed you away.

“You didn’t have those sad eyes when they were pounding into you.”

I had, actually, I even sobbed, you thought.

“Are you feeling better?”

“It’s not like you’ll give a damn.”

“Eren…”

“Call me Yeager. My name is too intimate for a whore.”

It was like receiving spit on your face. You glared at him, but for what? He thought you had group sex behind his back. You were the one at fault.

“O-Okay.” You swallowed hard, you no longer had dignity. “Then… Yeager… Do you need some help with showering?”

“No, fuck off.”

He tried to get up but always fell so you helped him while he snarled insults at you.

You were undressing him and preparing his bath, but you realized he was staring at you with a particular intensity as he sat in the tub.

“Um…”

“Why don’t you kill me?”

“What?”

“Why. You. Don’t. Kill. Me. That’s what you wanted to do, right? Make me feel so exhausted from the grief of our relationship, distracted at my job because of the hurt, and still getting close to me like a poison because of my love. You wanted to kill me. You’re having fun watching me being tortured. Why didn’t you just shoot me in the head? It would be faster.” 

Your hands trembled as you soaped his neck, avoiding his gaze.

“I guess I want you to feel pain longer…”

“You know… You’re weird. The situation is so weird. Something doesn’t add up.” 

Your brain worked quickly to find something to stop him from discovering the truth and being killed.

“I was just tired of you. You promised me you would take care of me and our life is a nightmare. It was fine when we were minors. But your job as a hitman ruined everything. You just ruin everything with your mental health and your family debt problems. I want more in life.”

You immediately regretted this way of doing things with the sight of his eyes which gave a glimpse of the soul bruised by your words.

“I meant…”

“You’re right. I never had been the best man for you.”

“Eren, I didn’t—”

“Shut up.”

He stared at the bathtub floor without saying anything.

What you said made a lot of sense.

He knew that.

He just ruins, ruins, and ruins.

Kills, kills and kills. 

He wasn't a good person. But he thought you liked him that way.

Maybe your romance was all a lie.

  ──────── 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

Eren tucked the stray curl of hair into your satin bonnet, pushing it back with his gun, his other hand holding his blunt. He held his breath so as not to make a sound and wake you when you stirred on the bed.

He'd always loved watching you sleep before. It was funny seeing your angelic face drooling on the pillow, a far cry from the needy expression you had when you asked him to slap you in bed.

But right now, watching you sleep made him want to kill you and then himself.

How could such a beautiful woman be such a traitor? A girl so caring, who did everything for him, with him. It didn't make any sense. He was so close to the truth. Too hurt to see it.

He stared at your forehead for long seconds and squeezed the trigger against it, wondering how he would react if you were dead. He hated you, but he'd rather you were alive somewhere on this planet. Alive with Jean, maybe. His jaw tightened as he pictured the brown-haired man with you.

He placed the gun on the mattress. His hand slipped under your t-shirt to caress your soft stomach. Was Jean going to be the father of your children now?

His whole body was churning; he wanted to reject this fate.

For the past few days, Eren hadn't recognized himself.

He kept replaying what you'd said in the bathtub. That he was destroying everything, ruining your life with his mental and family problems. That you wanted more.

He was having trouble eating and sleeping these days. The fog in his head was taking over.

"Eren?" Your hands in his hair pulled him out of his inner darkness. He hadn't noticed he'd lain down on top of you, his head on your chest.

"Why are you crying?" 

He touched his wet cheeks, confused.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, sniffling. “Acting like you don’t know why.”

You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek. “It’s not my problem.”

He let out a quiet laugh—a sad, hoarse one.

“Nothing is your problem. You only care about shaking ass at the club. Aren’t you ashamed?” He snapped, his voice raising. “You could have left way before than betraying me like that.”

You wished you could make the tears in the corners of his eyes disappear.

“You fuck good.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched even more. “That’s all? That’s the only thing you like about me?”

Tell him he mattered. Tell him his mental battles weren’t such a burden.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his head close to yours.

“Yes. Now do something.”

“You don’t deserve it,” he spat, venom in his voice.

That’s what you wanted. His hatred. His anger. Something that proves he’s alive. You could keep the secret of what happened your whole life if it was to keep him safe.

Even if his hands between your thighs were rougher than usual when he fingered you, despite what he said. Even if it was your turn to cry when he fucked you, his hand on his bedframe, a full view of the tattoos on his chest covering the ones about you. Even if there was more pain in his gaze than lust when he finished.

Eren hurriedly got out of bed, pulling on sweatpants. Eren needed to stop sleeping with you when his emotions were uncomfortable. He needed to detach himself from his ex. It was over between you. You didn’t love him. You were going to become the mother of Jean’s children. He was nothing to you. His hands trembled as he smoked on the balcony, barely able to hold his blunt.

He had your mouth forming an O in his mind as he gazed at the city lit by illuminated skyscrapers and streetlights. Your little whimpers. Your hands caressing his sculpted abs. Your pleas to go faster, harder, more intense. As if it wasn't already heartbreaking enough that he had to be so sexually rough with you to satisfy you.

Was that why you cheated on him? Always needing more. He's never enough and always too much for you.

He glared at you as you slept.

He resented you so much.

  ──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

“You look terrible, man,” Connie observed, his feet up on his desk, smoking a joint as he surveyed a gaunt Eren with deep-set dark circles under his eyes.

“Focus on your work. We have to avenge Armin, and you know my own reasons for wanting to kill them all.”

“You don’t look very ready to hear what I’m about to say.”

Eren slammed his fist on the desk. “Just spill the beans on what you found, damn it.”

He had asked Connie to hack into their enemies’ security cameras several weeks ago to prepare an attack plan behind his boss’s back.

“Eren, I don’t think you want to see that, I’m serious.” 

He shoved Connie’s chair aside with a “tsk” and opened the surveillance video folder. With the mouse cursor, he watched the fast-forward footage of the men entering and leaving the organization. “You’re playing with me, Con. That’s boring as hell.”

“Go back two and a half months. Don’t scream. What we’re doing is against protocol.”

He did as Connie asked. He frowned as a woman was helped out of a car trunk by several men. The hot knot in his stomach grew and grew as the cogs in his brain assembled the pieces of the puzzle. 

The woman had a bag over her head and was struggling, but it was easy to recognize you. You were wearing a House of CB dress Eren had bought you. A long, floral bustier dress. One he hadn’t seen since you came back from your night out with your stripper friends, and you were avoiding his gaze with the oversized men’s clothes on you.

You had asked for rough sex that day. No matter how much you cried, you had asked him to be even rougher. He thought it was your way of dealing with your sexual trauma.

He was right; he didn't know at that time that you had a new one. 

His whole body burned, his trembling fingers clicking on the internal cameras, but Connie turned off his computer by unplugging it.

“I know you don't want to be friends with me since Armin died, but I like you. Don't beat yourself up watching this. It was very long and painful to watch.” 

The hotness rose in his throat, and he vomited his breakfast onto Connie's desk. He winced but understood his reaction.

“Why didn't she tell me?” he murmured, lost and horrified.

“Why would she? You're going to try to kill them all, and they'll kill you. We underestimate them a lot; that's how they killed Armin.”

“Who cares?” Eren sneered, incredulous. “They hurt my baby.”

 “You’re not going to make her suffer from your death on top of everything else? She must have been so scared for you all this time.”

While Eren put you through hell.

He kicked the desk, cursing.

──────── 

He nuzzled your neck affectionately; your scent no longer made him nauseous. It was what you had been a victim of that made him feel sick now.

He couldn't talk to you right now; he would break down and show you he knew. He preferred to cuddle you while you slept and plot his revenge.

He wasn't sure he would come back alive. But he had to, for his girl. He wouldn't be able to look at himself in the mirror if he didn't do something to bring you justice.

"You're gonna be okay if I die, right?" he whispered against your skin. He lowered his head to listen to your heart—the most important sound in his universe.

You're gonna be okay if he dies getting revenge on you, you have Jean.

Even though he's already dead to the thought of you with someone else.

    ──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

“Give her this if I don’t come back,” Eren said to Connie in the car, handing him an envelope. “Give it to her personally. She’s not stupid enough to come to my funeral and get caught or even open the door.”

“A love confession?”

“A will of love.”

“You don’t really have to do this, Eren. You can leave the organization and have your happy ending with her.”

“Happy ending? I have a fucking debt to pay, Connie. They’re already threatening me enough because I’m not paying it back fast enough, according to them. I’ll be in a life of crime for a long time. And even then, the men who abused my girl can’t be alive. I’m going to try to kill at least one of them to rest in peace.”

Connie chuckled nervously.

“You don’t understand that’s exactly what they’re waiting for, Eren. You’re the best member of the organization. Losing you is good for them. They’ve chosen low-ranking members to carry out their massacre.” 

“And they made me hate and hurt the love of my life for weeks. They all deserve to die, I don’t care about their ranks.”

“Your girl can’t say I didn’t try to save you.” Connie watched Eren walk away toward the place where he had ambushed the enemies. Eren seemed calm, smoking a cigarette, his hand in the pockets of his baggy jeans. Connie knew he was going to kill at least two of them, we were talking about Eren. But just him against the six men who abused you? Connie gripped the steering wheel of his car, already mourning a man he wished he could call a friend.

  ──────── 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫,

It had been several days since Eren wasn't home.

You weren't stressed. Eren sometimes had to travel long distances for his assassination contracts.

You broke a glass by rubbing it too hard. You bumped your head on a cupboard door while cleaning it. Your toe stubbed on the bed while sweeping. Distracted but not stressed. Eren sometimes had to travel long distances for his assassination contracts.

You glanced at the door at least once every three minutes. Then you looked at the kitchen clock, counting the hours. Four days and eight hours since he'd come home from work.

You weren't stressed. Eren sometimes had to—

The doorbell rang, but your body remained tense because Eren never used that option to announce his arrival.

With incredible calm, you grabbed the gun Eren had bought you. A hitman wouldn't get involved with an incompetent woman.

"Who's there?" you asked loudly, pressing your ear against the door.

"A friend of Eren's. He... died. I have some things to return. Sorry, it took me a while to find his address." 

Several seconds passed in heavy silence. Connie finally knocked, but you were already back to your housework.

Eren is dead.

You scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed. You didn't know if it was your own arm you were scrubbing.

Connie kept knocking, as if he had something important to give you.

But you were far away.

In a world where the sun had gone out.

  ──────── 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞,

“Thank you for the kind words about my work. But don’t put me on a pedestal, I’m nobody.”

You reread the sentence in your email and sighed. It sounded insecure, when you wanted to be humble.

You’d been freelancing as a graphic designer with your boyfriend, Jean, for several months. He came from art school, so he had the expertise your creativity lacked.

It was the perfect job because you didn’t have to speak.

You lost your voice that day.

Your hands would tremble when you thought about him.

You were okay. You saw a therapist, you had your antidepressants, you’d stopped BDSM and learned to enjoy gentle sex with Jean after your rapes. Because life still has things to offer, even if he’s not there. That’s what you tried to believe.

“Isaree wants to go to the mall for candy,” Jean said softly, his hand on your shoulder. “We could go to the park first.”

You tensed at the touch, wishing it were someone else’s. Even your baby girl, you wanted her to be someone else’s. That’s why she was called ‘freedom.’

You said ‘no’ in sign language and plunged back into the social media story template you were creating.

“Isaree would like to spend more time with you, love.”

You paused, your hands sweating. Was it so bad not to be passionate about life, your boyfriend, and your child?

You were okay. You had a job, no insomnia, ate healthily, had shed tears of joy when Isaree was born, and you did her homework with her. An average mom. If we ignore your muteness. If we ignore the blank expression you have every day. If we forget your feeling of drowning in the depths of an endless ocean. With no way out, and with the hope of seeing him again at the end.

—

“Does Eren like the park?” Isaree asked, playing in the grass. Jean tensed at the sound of his name, but he knew that Eren was the only way your daughter could connect with you. Isaree had understood early on that something had happened to her mother. She had gone through your things and found photos of a mysterious dark-haired man with green eyes. It was the only thing you ever paid attention to.

You fed her, took care of her, took her to school, and hugged her when she cried. But Isaree kept watching the mother-daughter pairs around her, wondering what she was doing wrong to lack the sparks they shared. You signed to her that he preferred the sea, and Isaree's eyes lit up with excitement.

"Wow, he's so cool. Why is he always sleeping? I'd love to meet him." 

She had Jean's eyes, bright and enthusiastic. You didn't want to break her childlike heart, so you allowed your lie.

"He's in another country right now, but you'll be able to see him someday," You signed.

She twirled in the grass, already thinking about writing down the information about the sea in her diary. Isaree wrote about everything she cared for, because Eren was one of them in her eyes. Not a friend or a father, a secret thing where death and life create an in-between. 

Jean was painting a portrait of his daughter and you on the grass. With colors, colors that reminded you that life was beautiful, even if you weren't quite sure anymore if it was worth it.

─

As your lineage continues to reproduce, Eren has disappeared from everybody’s memory, and nobody knew who should have been the father of your children, decades after your and your daughter's death. 

  ──────── 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫,

“Dear brat,

If you're reading this letter, it means I've failed.

I'm sorry I can't control my emotions. I feel like it's genetic. Be careful with your future children; maybe they'll have the will to fight from birth.

I hope they'll have the will to fight for you.

You deserve for everyone to fight for you.

I hope you know how hard I fought for you. My death will be proof of that.

I'm sorry our story ended like this.

I should have reacted differently. I knew you. You wouldn't have done that to me. I shouldn't have been so horrible and angry. I said things I didn't mean.

I'm sorry my fears were stronger than me. You don't know what it's like to have a baddie and not be mentally healthy for her.

Let Jean take care of you.

Never talk about me to your children, please.

I'm the worst.

I know I will die, abandon you, that I will no longer be there to protect you.

But I’m still doing it because we are still engaged. For life.

Jean can make you babies, but your soul will always have my name on it. Just like mind has yours.

Never talk about me, and please see a therapist for what happened, baby.

Take care and be happy for me, okay? 

So that I can rest in peace, while that horseface is lucky as hell.

(I took your pink keychain to be buried with it just in case, don’t panic if you can’t find it).”

you blinked, swinging the door open and motioning inside. “yes, get in here.”

it was true, that hiromi higuruma would rarely ask for help. hell, he was the top student in ever institution he attended—and even as a jujutsu sorcerer did he rarely ask for help. he was a damn genius.

a genius in academics and harnessing skill, that is. not so much when it comes to managing time and communicating within his marriage to you (another lawyer…and the only love of his life).

but when kusakabe asked him to defeat some sketchy curse by the shinjuku train station, and got hit by a type of aphrodisiac pollen that radiated from said curse, he just had to ask you for help. you lived near and maybe… just maybe..? you were definitely smarter than him, but for old time’s sake?

he knows he shouldn't expect you to say yes, to help him. because look at the state of your marriage—or rather former marriage. the two of you led stressful lives as attornies, with hiromi being a criminal defense attorney and yourself being legal counsel for a major bank downtown. however, even despite being together for years and being friends with each other for longer, time only made the two of you distant.

and before he knew it, he found himself in court for himself, signing away his marriage and you. then came the case with oe, his sudden jujutsu abilities and the culling games, and now?

he didn’t realize how much he missed you—fucking needed you—until he was in the face of one of the—if not, the, most terrifying sorceror of all time.

but one thing’s for sure: hiromi was surely out of his goddamn mind the moment his body moved and made a beeline to your apartment. he still loves you. he still wants to wake up to see you every morning… he misses you so much and regrets how much he wasn’t selfish for once and lost you because of it.

now here he was, utterly intoxicated from the aphrodisiac ability the curse had, and minutes away from rutting into the damn couch.

you held him by the arm of his blazer, and sat him down in your couch. hiromi’s eyes traveled all over your body; you wore some loungewear, an oversized shirt he’s pretty sure was his, with no bra, and realllll pretty shorts that make your thighs look so good. your hair and skin were damp, and you smelled fucking divine.

was that the vanilla he liked? the nice vanilla body oil you’d lather on your perfect smooth skin every night before bed, the same oil he could get drunk off of every time the two of you slept together.

god, and your tits? your cute breasts bouncing with every step you took and your nipples protruding from the cotton of your shirt. it took everything in him not to pounce on you, despite being a 36-year-old man with a job, responsibilities, and such. but he sure as hell missed laying his head on your chest when he finished a long day of work.

was it the pollen that was making him act this way? potentially. he’s not one to be that much of a pervert (when it comes to you, at least).

but fuck, you looked ravishing… and hiromi felt like a horny college boy again. it was damn embarrassing but you’re the only person who’d be the most understanding… considering his current circumstance.

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine…”

you narrowed your eyes and tapped your foot on the floor. your apartment was dim—lit by the ecofriendly lamps you got accustomed to using since hiromi was enthusiastic about eco-conscious appliances. you felt your face go hot—embarrassed and nervous. so much so that you felt your heartbeat fasten.

“how’s work?” you winced, wondering if it was really valid to ask about that considering hiromi looked absolutely ruined.

“fine. how’s life? how’s mochi?” mochi was the cat you both raised until you gained custody of said cat.

you exhaled sharply. “she’s fine…i’m fine. she's being watched by a friend of mine today.”

it was silent between the both of you before the two of you decided to suddenly speak. to cut the suffocating silence before you could impulsively kick him out for invading your ‘me-time’.

“what’s going on?” “w-were you doing anything?”

fuck.

your eyebrows pinched together and your lips pursed. “what? hiromi?”

he hummed, breath shaky. “i’m—hahh—just curious. you looked like you were potentially busy lounging around considering—“ he eyed your body and nodded, blinking furiously.

it felt awkward; the tension could be cut with a damn chainsaw from how loud the silence between the two of you was, so to speak. it was heavy, and it was killing you.

before, you’d have conversations for hours stemming from the most mundane things and now you can’t even acknowledge the fact that your ex-husband looks out of his goddamn mind and has an evident tent in his slacks that’s practically arousing your interest.

“are you saying that ‘cause of my clothes..?” you paused, glancing at him, whose eyes were stuck on your breasts. “or something else?”

you weren’t one to have your eyes linger but jesus—hiromi’s fucking bulge couldn’t be more damn obvious. his hands were fidgety and he was biting his lower lip. not to mention, his presence felt stronger than when you last saw him a few months ago for your alimony court hearing.

“look…i—”

you grimaced. “hiro, i’m worried. you come into my apartment at random; you look fucking insane right now, and not to mention… you seem to have a bit of a problem. what the hell is going on with you? is everything okay?”

his breathing was labored and he looked pathetic. like he was injured... or rather, aroused.

hiromi blinked rapidly. he couldn’t lie to you…not now. he’s already in deep enough shit with you considering you’re divorced in the first place.

“i—i’m fine…” he mentally smacked himself…why—how could he lie to you?

“you’re full of shit, hiromi.”

so he decided to pivot. hiromi remembers how in the early years of your relationship, you poked fun at your superstitious grandmother’s tales of ‘jujutsu sorcerers’… unaware that he’d become one over 15 years later.

“s-so you k-know how…that urban legend? jujutsu?”

you narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms. “yeah, my grandmother would talk about it all the time… what about it?”

hiromi leaned against the couch and sighed. “i—uh… long story short, some jujutsu curse effected me. i—"

"you're...sure?" he looked up at your expression, all serious. you believed him..? “can’t you—uh—reverse curse it? or something—i forgot what the old lady said…”

he shook his head—voice all shaky, which practically sent you over the edge to see your stern, enigmatic ex-husband of several years on the point of breaking down over a simple little curse. “no…trust me, i’ve tried…”

hiromi suddenly leaned towards you, with what appeared to be tears in his eyes on the borderline of slipping down his eyes. "please...y/n. i have no one else to fucking t-tell...please... i—“

he looked away as if he was embarrassed.

you stared at him blankly, lips pressed to a fine line and crossed your legs. "what type of curse do you think it was?"

"an aphrodisiac one of sorts...f-fuck...please, i need your help y/n. i know we're on not so good terms.”

hiromi felt fucking pathetic—his voice just cracked in front of you and he felt like a hot, horny, stupid mess…so much for wanting to win you back. “i can’t do it if it’s not with you…”

you stayed quiet for a moment and looked away, like you were contemplating.

“okay.”

"i'll help you," you said, standing up. you held his hand as he stood up from the couch, walking with you to your bedroom where you suddenly pushed him on the mattress and stood facing the wall.

"now strip."

hiromi’s known you since the two of you were in high school. he knows how you bite your lip when you’re embarrassed and twiddle your fingers when you’re shy…and you were doing just that.

"really? you're really h-helping me?"

you exhaled, sighing deeply. "they do say time makes the heart grow fonder..."

"rea-"

"hiro, just do what i asked you to do, yeah?"

hiromi took off his shirt, unbuckled his pants and slid them down. his eyes followed you as you crawled onto the bed, eyeing his rock-hard cock that laid above his tummy, already leaking pre-cum.

“jesus christ… you weren’t kidding.” you hummed, looking at bit too amused at your husband’s current state. you planted your knees on each side of his thighs and stroked his cock, all stiff and twitching in your hand.

you glanced at his upper torso and your eyes widened; he no longer had that soft body you liked—slightly plush tummy and firm arms, no… hiromi was lean now, like he was actively working out. your chest tightened; was he trying to look good for another bitch?

you began licking the sides of his cock, tracing his veins with your tongue as you licked it like a lolly if the lolly was running out of flavor.

“ohhh—hahhh…fuckkkkkk…” he breathed out, composure all disheveled.

you had forgotten how much you missed your husband’s pretty cock; all nice and large, veiny, and certainly girthy. so much so, you could feel your panties getting wet at the memory of how well he stretched you out every time you two had sex.

your tongue swirled around his weeping shaft while your hand worked at the base of his cock, stroking it. the taste of his salty-sweet cum in your mouth made you feel almost needy for more as you took him whole. your thighs tightened around his legs, and you could feel your cunt practically throb in anticipation.

tears began brimming at your eyes as you looked up at him, eyes closed and lips parted as he kept letting out quiet groans at the feeling of you suctioning around his cock. hiromi’s breathing became more jagged and his forehead gleamed with sweat already, a string of curses leaving his lips. 

“mmm…shit…” he squeezed his eyes shut as your tongue teased his cock slightly, giving him butterfly kisses until you took him whole again.

you slurped on his cock further, as hiromi’s hands gripped on your hair as you did so, his voice cracking with every whine, and you’ve never felt more aroused. his cock twitched, with his creamy load splurting in your mouth.

you wiped the corners of your lips and swallowed.

“please—y/n, fuck me...”

your widened doe eyes looked up at him, still on your knees. hiromi blinked, lips pursed, and face all flushed. he was clearly embarrassed at his sheer state of depravity and desperation. you lifted yourself up, where you were chest to chest with him, and grabbed his cock from the small space between the two of you.

you stroked him slowly, giving it a few pumps given the fact he got hard as soon as he came in your mouth. your hips bucked up as you aligned the tip of his cock to your puffy, wet slit, your cunt gleaming from your arousal, and with your panties to the side.

“just a moment, sweetheart,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slowly adjusted yourself.

you moved your hips to side to side and shifted your weight on your knees as you went up and down his cock.

"hahhhh, fuckkkk..." you could feel every pulsating vein and how lengthy yet filling his cock was in your pussy. you missed him...you missed his dick.

“move. fuck me. please.” you said it in such a manner that your voice cracks and whiny tone almost unlocked something in him. his slow touches on your ass became rougher, with more weight and force.

hiromi's hips went at a damn near animalistic pace, rutting into you with vigor as his hands maneuvered your ass up and down on his dick. the pitter-patter sound of your soaked thighs meeting his echoed through the bedroom loudly, and that alone made you whine, feeling the sticky and hot skin with every move of the hips.

it felt almost nostalgic that you could cry—sheer memory or the fact you're taking him now, take your pick.

"god...you're so fucking tight, my beautiful girl..." he breathed out, slapping your ass and holding the plush fat in his palm.

“nghhh—oh my godddd—fuckkkk-!” you whined, scratching at his tan-toned biceps; they were so defined, strong. your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you felt him pant against your warm skin.

hiromi had pressed your body closer to his, your perky breasts against his toned chest while he fucked you with such vigor, it made your head spin.

“don’t stop, please. please, baby,” he groaned, the raspy sound of his voice leaving you with butterflies in your stomach and your pussy fluttering around his cock.

“fuckfuckfuckfuck—y/n…” he closed his eyes and held you tighter, the sensation of him emptying his load only had you squeezing your eyes shut and knees bucking against his sides.

“i missed you… so damn much.”

that tight feeling in your lower tummy felt as if it released, a warm buzzing feeling washing over your body.

“hahhh—nghhh—h-hiro—! mmmmm…” you threw your head back, your hips moving in a figure-8 motion before gasping.

hiromi lifted you from your waist, wrapping his surprisingly strong arms around your waist and turning you around so that your back met his chest (his also surprisingly lean chest…).

“look at yourself, all beautiful…” he sounded like he was damn intoxicated, a stupid smile on his face while he looked at your appearance in the mirror before the two of you, facing the bed.

you looked a mess; your hair was a mess and a sleek sheen of sweat covered your body. your lips were swollen and your cunt was glazed with your mixed arousals.

"oh my fucking—!" you cried out, with hiromi slamming you on his cock over and over torturously fast.

“unghh—fuuuckk…” hiromi rolled his hips, the sound of his load sloshing inside your cunt becoming noticeable. you threw your head back into his shoulder and winced at the pace he took.

“why the hell did we even divorce…?” he huffed, lifting your hips further. his gaze was glued onto the mirror—observing the faces of pleasure you were making and the way your eyes rolled every time his cockhead kissed your cute little cervix so nicely.

you choked, hips rolling and maw slack. he really hit all those deliciously pleasurable spots that made you cry. you chanted hiromi’s name as if it was a prayer, feeling your cunt twitch against his cock and your skin becoming feverish and slippery the more you moved yourself on him. his wet thrusts became sloppier—more erotic. a scream escaping your lips as your arousal gushed out around his cock as ropes of his cum filled you after, again.

“hnghh—i—hic!—don’t fucking know!” your brain was fucking scrambled from how deep his thick cock was pistoning in you, still.

hiromi panted against your skin, slowly lifting you. “i think the pollen effect wore off so—"

and before he could even pull back, you squeezed his arm and attempted to get closer to him.

you turned your head, catching your own breath and making eye contact with his own crazed look. “how—hahhh—about 1 more time? yeah? old times' sake."

.

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notes: lol, one can say that i really do hc higuruma having a wife/partner who is also an attorney, but specifically a private practice legal counsel (bc it does introduce that nuance in their relationship and their difference in ideals... hear me out). anyways happy 3k! i'm so happy with the new moots i've gotten to interact with. thank you guys very much for supporting my silly fics <333. i hope the characterization here was decent-ish despite the trope in the fic. btw #unedited idk how to feel abt the smut 😭