#darkhera

hawks remembers the day he was assigned to the case of the crimson reaper. he, endeavour, best jeanist; all of the top-ranking pro-heroes were called into the same hero safety public commission conference room on a monday morning, one just like this. gloomy, threatening to rain down judgement on the streets of musutafu. the president ran a hand through her hair, somehow greyer than it had originally been, eyes tired and sunken in. "good morning president," hawks chirped, trying to brighten the mood. "you look chipper as ever."

"thank you, mr. takami," she said, her tone clipped, blunt. "i'm sure all of you know why we've gathered you in here." of course they did. almost all of the pro-heroes were in the know of them, their signature killing style of draining the victim completely of their blood while still alive through various needles in the victim's arms and elbows, before slicing their chest open to leave a single, bright red rose petal.

dubbed the crimson reaper, this killer has ravaged the streets of musutafu, instilling fear within the hearts of the citizens. no one has any idea who it could be; the hero commission have vowed a full investigation into finding them, dead or alive. the crimson reaper doesn't discriminate; there have been no found connections or patterns in the victims that they take; only that they all end up with the same rose petal nestled safely between their lungs.

the problem, though, lay with the fear of the people. "we cannot let the crimson reaper take away the ability of the citizens to feel safe walking along streets, or in their homes," the president briefed. "we need to find this sick, twisted psycho, and bring them to justice."

23 cases in six months. it was beginning to be a persistent worry in the minds of many pro-heroes, but hawks especially. he had a weird, personal affinity to each case, and plus, the hspc president put him on the spot when she asked, "takami, we want you to be the leading agency on this case." and being their number one lackey, he couldn't say no.

so here he is. a small drizzle is breaking out above him now, and he watches the officers scramble to set up the tentage between the two walls of the alleyway, careful not to let rain tamper with the evidence. he looks up, at the crack between rain clouds and how a trickle of sunlight wedges its way between them. a blessed morning, despite everything.

hawks crouches by the body, looking for anything out of the ordinary, different from the previous cases. examines the clean, precise incision along the victim's chest, pink and crimson blending into a strangely beautiful medley of flesh and blood. the flaps of flesh have been stretched, pulled away, the gaping gash of her chest exposing her lungs and her heart, with the crimson reaper's signature left in the very middle; a single rose petal.

"i'm going to look around and see if any of the shops around have cctv," he announces, not taking his eyes off the woman. that poor soul. "finish with the photos, bag anything that could be of use and send the body to the morgue. also, any ID on her?"

"she has a school access card under the cover of her phone," one of the other officers pipes up, pointing at a phone left on the ground, a clear case with a blue and white student card in it. "name's kaida tomita."

"great," hawks gets to his feet, taking another swig of his coffee. "find friends, family, whatever you can. i want to know where she was the night she died, where she lives, everything."

there's a soft chorus of "yes sir!" as he walks off, nodding at them with a charming grin on his face. he tucks his wings closer to his body, careful not to move or touch anything at the scene of the crime. ducking under the yellow and black police tape, the rain greets him once more, small puddles of rain water gathering along the sidewalk. he walks, taking a right out onto the main road, looking for competent shops that may have had some kind of security footage that captures the alleyway.

something catches his eye. something not quite fitting with the colour palette, the doom and gloom of this dingy alleyway with a dead corpse mutilated on the ground. a flash of pink in the peripherals of his vision, laying haphazardly on the ground next to a pair of trashcans. hawks bends down, squinting slightly before sighing. one white glove, a gash tearing through it from the opening down to the base of the index finger. he picks it up and stuffs it in his back pocket, before straightening and continuing his walkaround.

it proves fruitless; the crimson reaper sure knows how to choose their locations. nothing but dilapidated shophouses for several streets, no one frequenting the area enough to be asked if anyone had any idea how this poor university girl ended up in an alleyway, completely drained of blood and her chest ripped open for everyone and their god to see. he commends them, just a little for the amount of thought they must have put into their killings. enough that the entirety of the pro-hero industry has almost been run into the ground with how much havoc they're wreaking.

by the time he returns to the scene of the crime, most of it has been cleaned up, the body transported in a bag to be sent for an autopsy. "shall i compile all the notes and have it sent to your agency?" another officer asks him, a pretty, young girl, and he nods.

"that would be great. thanks, darlin'," he gives her a small smile. "thanks for all your hard work here."

she flushes, a slight rosey tint to her pale cheeks. "it's no problem, mr. hawks," she grins back. "thank you for your service to musutafu."

he just manages a weak smile. seeing case after case like this, it's tiring. it's a shame to tell how used to it he's gotten, but there's no point in denying that he's at that point where waking up to a new pager specifically for this case just filled him with annoyance rather than dread. but he keeps his head up and keeps working. because that's the promise he made as a hero. to serve, and to protect.

"baby, i'm home."

keigo drops his bags by the door, and just like every single day before this, is greeted by approaching footsteps and the smell of apple honey. "daddy!" he hears, and the way his shoulders relax and the apples of his cheeks tip upwards as he sees you.

you, the picture of perfection, your plush legs and arms wrapping around him. "oh my god, i missed you so much today." you breathe into his neck, smelling of sweat and hero work and a long day, and a twinge of his expensive cologne lying under all of that. "it's been so long."

he chuckles, spinning you around. "it's barely been a couple of hours," he chides you playfully. "missed your daddy that much, huh?"

"i miss you all the time," you whine. "you need to quit your job and stay home with me all day."

that earns a hearty laugh out of him, and a warm, wet kiss on your forehead. "tell that to the hero commission, princess. you know how much i'd love to stay in bed with you all day."

you step on his toes, wrapping your arms around him as he waddles the both of you into the kitchen. it's spick and span, always is, with a couple of dishes left of the drying rack and half a ham and cheese sandwich lying on a plate. "were you eating that, princess?"

you shake your head. "ate the other half an' got full," you beam up at him. "left it 'cause i knew you'd want it."

he chuckles. "you know me too well," keigo reaches for it, letting you bridge the gap between it and his outstretched hand, passing the sandwich along. "how was your day? you managed to catch up on your sleep after staying up all night last night?" he pinches your cheek, and you giggle, swatting him away.

"yes! yes, i did, i did," you nuzzle against his neck. "was so boring at home without you though. been thinking about you all day," your words turn breathy, pushing yourself into him more and more and more, as if you were trying to fuse the two of you together. your voice drops low, a murmur barely audible to him. "couldn't wait for you to get home."

keigo smiles. he knows exactly what you mean what you say that, but he wants to hear it from your mouth directly. "is that so, baby girl?" he shifts you, hoists you by your waist up onto the kitchen counter. "couldn't wait for me to get home?"

you whimper, shaking your head, nuh uh. "couldn't," you stutter, spreading your legs just a little bit. "needed— needed to touch."

"touch?" he asks, voice mocking innocence. "touch what, baby?"

you whine, a little embarrassed by his question. "you know what i mean." the tension between you is palpable, and you need him to step in the gap you've made between your legs. "daddy."

"i don't think i do," keigo munches on his half of the sandwich, feigning complete obliviousness to your advances. "think you need to tell me what you mean, darling."

you groan, head tipping back in annoyance as you find his hand in yours and pull him closer to you. "needed you to touch me," you murmur, shy. you guide him up your thigh, his thick fingers, calloused from hero work so rough and skittish against your plush, soft skin. a shudder runs up your spine. "right here."

his hand ends up right between your thighs, your hands, tiny compared to his, holding his wrist in place as his fingers brush up against the thin cotton of your shorts. "ah," he exclaims, a little exaggerated. "my little princess cunt needed some attention from daddy, is that it?"

you nod vehemently, relishing in every purposeful brush of his knuckles against the damp spot right in the middle of your shorts. "mmhm," you hum happily. "missed you so bad today, daddy."

"yeah?" he steps closer to you, pressing his chest to yours, his hand still toying with your cloth-covered cunt. "gorgeous baby. so desperate for cock, aren't you?"

you whine. his words, so crude, so blunt but so true. it makes you flush furiously, shyness creeping up on you slowly, heat pooling between your clenching thighs. "for daddy's cock," you agree, looking up at him with begging eyes. "wan'— wan' daddy's cock so bad."

keigo kisses your forehead. "have you been a good girl for me today?" he asks, slipping your shorts to the side, toying with the slick that coats your pussy, stroking up and down slowly.

it's so sensitive you can barely speak, just the ghostly touch of his fingers, the featherlight intention behind every stroke. you don't want to answer him because, well, you haven't been. you're growing impatient with how he's taking his time with you, stretching out your time with one another. but you've been aching, throbbing for him all fucking day, so you squeeze his wrist harder, forcing him to stay where you want him to.

"baby," he warns. "don't be bad."

you grind helplessly against his hand, relieving all the pent up need and stress as you rut your hips pathetically up and down his fingers. "fuck me," you demand. "i need you to fuck me."

keigo tuts. a soft, yet sharp sound against his tongue. "disobedient slut," he murmurs. watching tears spring into your eyes as you hump his hand, too much to handle but too little to cum. it's the perfect torture for you; to make you desperate for him, and yet never give in to you in his entirety. "fuckin' so eager for me, huh?"

you ignore his punchy words, whimpering against his fingers. your thighs are aching a little from the position, the constant move of your hips against his thick fingers. "fuck me," you demand again. "daddy, daddy," you paw at his trousers, trying to undo his belt.

but you don't get far before he smacks your hands, harshly to make you stop. "stop it," he scolds, a low growl in his voice. "you're being so disobedient right now." he snatches his hand from between your thighs, tuning out your whines of protest and yanks you by the back of your neck. "get up."

you have no choice, the pinch on the back of your neck forcing you to comply. you get up and he pushes you down in front of him, down on your knees putting you in the eyeline of the bulge in his pants. your eyes light up just looking at it, your hands uncontrollable as they come up to paw at his buckle, undoing it. such an easy little thing, keigo thinks. just need some cock in your mouth and you're all good for me.

he helps you get his buckle undone, your soft, trembling fingers pulling down the hem of his trousers. the smell of him is intoxicating, the reeking stench of sweat and work and burnt ashes as you bury your nose in the crevice between his boxers and his thigh. you look at him and he looks at you and your pupils are dilated, almost frenzied. “my little nympho girlfriend,” he chuckles. “you’d die for my cock, wouldn’t you?”

you don’t have to answer. the hitch in your breath does it for you. the way your lip quivers and you can’t seem to find the words to protest. keigo just snickers. just pets your hair, and cradles your cheek against the hard bulge in his boxers. “answer me.”

“‘d die for your cock,” you whisper, daring enough to let your tongue poke out of your mouth, licking up his cock through the fabric. “i’d die for it, wanna ride it.” you pout, looking up at him. a breath leaves him in a shudder.

“go on, then.” he murmurs, cupping the back of your head. “take it out.”

your fingertips, cautious and reluctant, dig into the waistband of his boxers, and your teeth baring to bite the fabric softly. it comes down slowly, stretching over his hips, the apex of his thighs until his cock springs free, and your mouth begins to water. every single time you pull out keigo’s cock it surprises you. and every single time it does, he chuckles at your reaction, your eyes widening, your mouth gaping uncontrollably. it boosts his ego just a little bit, the way you shake quite a little, your fingers trembling with anticipation.

don’t think i’ll ever get tired of this. 

you take your tongue and lick up a fat stripe from the base to the tip of his cock, worshipping his frenulum, sucking the head of his cock. you don’t think you’ll ever stop thinking it’s the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen in your sorry life. keigo shudders under your touch, the hand cupping the back of your head instinctively pushing towards him, forcing your cheek pressed up against his cock. the course hairs on his pelvis, shimmering and blonde, tickle your skin and you stop to giggle for a second. 

“let me,” you’re insistent, squirming out of his hold and rearing back. “let me,” you repeat, dropping your jaw to fit the thick, mushroom tip of his cock into your mouth. it’s a lot, it always is; sure, keigo wasn’t the tallest guy, but he made up for it in how thick his cock was. in stature, the broadness of his shoulders, the thickness of his waist. even now, it’s a chore to work his cock into your warm, waiting mouth, but he had to control himself, not buck his hips forward and push the seam of your lips apart. you work to get the cock fully in your mouth, suckling and slurping on with, making obscene sounds. they’re music to his ears, he smiles, the sounds of you choking and gagging on his cock as he watches you swallow it down to the hilt. 

“that’s it, good girl. good girl, taking all of daddy’s cock like that. fuck,” he seethes. “daddy’s gonna use your mouth now, okay? just keep your jaw— yeah, just like that. yeah, good fuckin’ girl.” his fingers twist into your hair, his other hand coming down to cup your cheek as he pistons in and out of your mouth. his breathing’s laboured, fucking his pretty girlfriend’s mouth like a pussy. 

you choke back a moan every time the tip of his cock rams into the back of your throat. you’re quite used to this, to be honest; being used as a tool for keigo’s pleasure, but it made you even wetter hearing the whimpers and whines drool out of his mouth like liquid gold, knowing that you’re the reason he’s feeling so good right now. so you relax your jaw and let him use you the way he needs. because you can’t deny the fact that the space between your thighs is growing hot, slick with your own arousal as your lips stretch open with every thrust.

and then keigo’s pulling out of your mouth, tapping your cheek with his cock drenched in your spit. you whine, “you didn’t cum.”

“don’t wanna cum in your mouth today,” he murmurs. “c'mon. up."

he should get you a collar and a leash, he thinks. just so he can yank you along where he wants you, and god knows you'd follow him on all fours. you're pliable today, and thank god for that because he needs to sink his fat cock inside of you before he blows his load on the carpet. keigo tugs you along to the bedroom and shoves you down onto your stomach on the bed, knees hitching up. digs a hand under your hips and raises your ass.

"show me that pretty pussy," he whispers, cheek pressed against the fat of your ass. he can see the outline of your puffy pussy through the thin jersey cotton of your pajama shorts, fat and drooling. his fingers dig into your hips, warm tips slipping under the waistband. "no panties?" he asks, and even with your head in the pillows, back arched for him, you can hear the smug look on his face.

"no panties," you answer, a deep sigh into the pillows. you can't see what he's doing, but you pray to god he'll let you off and just fuck you till you're a sobbing, drooling mess. so it comes unexpected to you, but not unwelcome, when his hand rears back and lands on your ass with a loud smack. you squeal loudly, flinching at the contact but he stops you, wrapping a strong arm around your hips.

"stop running," he says, the low timbre of his voice, nearing a growl, making you stop in your tracks. even you, the biggest brat keigo's ever seen, wouldn't dare disobey him like this. "wanna act like a desperate whore, you get treated like one, yeah?"

the sheets become acquainted with your drool as he continues with you, landing a succession of spanks; one for every time you "disobeyed" him, asked for too much, stepped out of line. this is what he knows you love, being put in your place, him having his way with you. at the back of his mind he'd rather kiss you sweetly, have you on your back facing him, fucking you slow as he watches your eyes roll back with every kiss his cock delivers to your cervix, but this; this is what you need. a rough, harsh fuck, battering your ass and your pussy till you're raw and red and begging him to stop. until you stop being a brat, and you listen to what he has to say.

"fuck me," you cry out, muffled into the pillow. he pauses, smoothing a big palm along the redness of your asscheek. "daddy— please, please."

he leans down, draping himself over your back. "what was that?"

"daddy," you beg, his title so sweet on your tongue. like honey, dripping gold. "please fuck me."

keigo hums. "finally decided you're gonna be good for me, then?" he sits back on his haunches, hands gripping your hips. "finally mellowed down into the good girl i know?" you wish you could shut him up, but with his big, rough hand pinning your neck down there's no way for you to speak, no way for you to glower at him. so you lie there and you take it, take every burning fingerprint he scalds into your skin, the unpleasant sting of the cold air against your abused, reddened skin. he peels down your shorts, watching the way your slicked up pussy drools for him now, strings of arousal latching on to the soaked fabric as he peels it away.

your pussy clenches around nothing, exposed to the cold air. a small whine rips through your throat; wriggling your thighs slightly. "c'mon," you whimper. but keigo stays put. watches the mesmerising slick of your pussy, puffy folds all on display for him to watch. "it's embarrassing!" you protest, trying to get him to do something, anything. but if keigo's good at one thing, it's putting you in your place.

smack. you recoil as another excruciating blow lands on the fat of your ass, right where your thighs meet your cheeks. "behave. you get what i give you, when i give it to you. got it?"

you whimper quietly. keigo doesn't like that. doesn't like when you hide your answers from him. so he grabs you, stuffs two fingers in your mouth and pulls, forcing your head up painfully. "got it?"

"yeth!" you cry, muffled around his fingers. wincing, he lets you down, a rare gentleness in his rough hands. he smoothes a hand down your back, shushing your soft sniffles.

"prettiest fuckin' pussy," he whispers, and you can feel the hot breath against your skin. "gonna fuck you now, okay?"

a thrill skittles down your spine when you hear those words, your back arching, ass humping back. "yes, yes please," you breathe, twisting your neck so you can look back at him, kneeling over you. his boxers are shucked down to his knees, positioning himself at your cunt, and you can feel it; the slow, agonising rub of the tip of his cock against the slit of your pussy, threatening to fuck it open, stretch you out. "daddy— oh, fuck me!"

there's a line between demanding and begging, and you toe it every single day. you better thank you gods that keigo's ears deep in love with you that he overlooks it, that he chuckles to himself as the fat mushroom tip of his cock catches against the slit and pushes in. the both of you hiss, the contact of his cock in your gummy walls so familiar and yet you're completely thrown off by the sheer girth of him stretching your ill-prepared hole. no matter how many times you and keigo fuck, how many times he has you cumming on his cock beforehand, the first breach of his cock in your pussy will always sting. you clutch the bedsheets in your fist, silk bunching up and shielding your palms from the onslaught of your sharp fingernails.

he heaves a breath, leaving his lips with a shudder as his hands grip your flesh. tightening around the fat of your hips, he sinks himself deep into your eager, drooling pussy. "princess," he drapes his body over yours, broad shoulders and thick waist and so big over you. "god, princess, let me in."

it's so much, too much for your tight pussy to handle. "'m trying," you mumble. "s-slow down."

keigo chuckles, mouthing at your shoulder. "not so big and bad anymore, huh? where's my feisty little girl gone?"

it always happens. you just need a little bit of cock in your pussy and you're reduced to a blabbering, slobbering mess on the sheets, your hips mindlessly pushing back onto keigo's cock as you beg him to slow down. he could still himself and just kneel behind you and you'd find a way to fuck yourself to orgasm without him moving an inch. you may be a brat, may disobey him for a second to paw at his cock, but keigo knows all you need is a cock inside you and you're right as rain for him.

today is no different, he thinks as you fuck yourself back on his cock, watching your pussy stretch around him and swallow him down to the hilt. it's mesmerising, borderline insane the way you suck him in, the way you fuck him until you're satisfied and don't stop for a second until you're done. even with your head buried in the pillows you have control, squeezing the length of his dick until he's breathless.

"s-stop that," he stutters, his hand sliding up your back, pinning your neck to the pillows. "you're squeezin' me too tight, birdy."

and you can't answer, hands flailing, fingers flexing with the weight of him mounting you. you can feel him so, so deep inside you, it's like he's in your throat, pushing past your thoughts and residing in the forefront of your mind. "c-can't... 'elp it," you manage, a half hearted sorry dripping from your lips like the drool leaking out the side of your mouth. it's messy, overwhelming, but god if it's the only thing you live for.

keigo ruts into you, one leg planted on the bed by the side of your torso, holding your hips and bouncing you back onto his cock. "is that good?" he grunts, his sweat-slick hair falling into his eyes. "you like that, princess?"

"love it," you slur, dizzy from how deep his cock is pressing inside you. every single thrust feels like it's breaking the wall of your cervix, the slight sting of pain whenever he rams his cock as far as it'll take him. "h-haah," your fists tangle in the sheets before letting go, your right hand drifting down between your body and the sheets to find your clit, the sensitive bud dripping with slick, puffy and neglected. the first fingers make contact with it and your knees almost give out, the sensitivity of your clit sending shocks through your torso, down to your toes and up to your shoulders, a familiar feeling traversing through your veins.

"yeah?" keigo teases, his tongue darting out of his mouth, licking from your shoulder blade to the nape of your neck. "gotta rub your little clit? can't let daddy do all the work now, can you?"

and you whine in response, a pathetic inability to say anything. you can feel him in your throat and you've gone almost brainless with the thickness of him stretching your pretty pussy out. "n-need to," you whisper, shifting your head so you can glance back at him, and when you do, you almost choke.

keigo's the picture of debauchery. his face is tinted pink, ears tipped red and you're sure that if you cradled your palm against his cheek his blood would run so, so warm. he's looking at you with a frenzied look in his eyes, golden melting in his eyes, looking at you wth an intensity that threatens to frighten you. he's looking at you like land to conquer, wings ruffled and spread slightly. you know he loses control of them in times like these, and that they're one of the most sensitive areas of his body, beautiful crimson shielding the two of you like a dome; like he's covering the both of you from the world, and it's just the two of you right now. it is. to you, it is.

your jaw slackens as you rub your clit to the look on his face, the curves of his cheekbones, the angular structure of his jaw, his pink cheeks, the way he's grunting as he sheathes himself inside you again, and again, and again. "k-keigo," you whisper, the circles you draw on your clit getting messier and sloppier as the tightness in your core begins to build. it's excruciating. "daddy."

"i got you, princess," he groans. "you gonna cum?"

you nod, wordlessly. you don't think you could force yourself to say more than that, your heart caught in your throat and his dick in your tummy. you're so distracted that it takes you a couple of seconds to realise that he's snaked his own hand between your thighs, knocking your smaller one out of the way.

"need to feel you cum," you hear him say, strained, like he's speaking with his jaw locked and gnashing teeth. seeing how tense he looks, he probably is. keigo's fingertips are so calloused, so rough from work that it makes you squeal with how ungraceful he's being with your poor, bullied clit. "you're close, aren't you? can feel you— fuck, you're fucking squeezin' me."

"oh my god, oh my god," you cry, palming your stomach as if it'll help alleviate the overwhelming sensation of both your pussy and clit being bullied beyond recognition. "daddy, oh fuck, daddy!"

"i know," he shushes your cries, rubbing his free hand soothingly down your back, and then planting it by the side of your head. "gotta— don't cry, baby, 's just me." keigo sinks a little deeper, rubs your clit a little faster. "you're gonna make a mess on my cock, aren't you?"

you cry out at the crudeness of his words, trying valiantly to shake your head no. but you can't lie; you could feel the pressure in your navel. one small push, one more flick of his fingers against your clit and you're done for.

"come on, princess," he grunts. "need you to cum for daddy, got it? wanna fuckin' see you squirt all over me, come on," and with his renowned intent, keigo's thrusts became impossibly faster, driving impossibly deeper. one clumsy brush of his knuckles against your clit and you're gone, gone, gone, flung headfirst into a crashing orgasm. your eyes roll back and you see white, and you don't realise you're gushing liquid until you hear keigo curse, the lewd squelch of his cock plunging into your leaking pussy filling the room.

"fuck," he spits. "holy fuck, yeah. that's it. that's my fuckin' girl."

"fuck me," you barely manage. "f-fuck me through it."

and he does, never stopping the movement of his hips against yours, his fingers still circling mercilessly against your sloppy clit. you can barely breathe, the force of your orgasm still sending shakes down your legs. they're uncontrollable, too heavy and you have to drop them, your pelvis flat on the sheets. "'m sorry," you babble, "c-can't hold mys-self..."

keigo hushes you. "don't worry princess," he whispers in your ear. "don't need you to work anymore, yeah? just lie there and take daddy's cock now, okay?" he presses kisses down your spine, sweet and sugary compared to his words. "daddy's gonna use you now."

and that he does. keigo has a habit of getting carried away when he's on top, when he has power over you. he pins your hips into the sheets, making sure they don't move as he rears back until only the tip of his cock remains in you, before pushing forward and slamming his fat cock into you, over and over and over. your cum and squirt making for extra lube for him to violate your pussy over and over.

you're powerless to stop him, limp and crosseyed as he uses you to chase his own orgasm. just little whines and whimpers that escape your lips when he pushes particularly deep; but other than that, right now, you're keigo's warm, wet fucktoy with the perfect pussy to cum in.

"'m not gonna last very long," he whines. "where do you want it, princess? where do you want daddy's cum?"

"i'side," you whisper. "ins-side!"

"yeah?" his mouth quirks up, canines flashing. he drapes himself over you again, mouthing at your ear. "want me to cum inside?"

you nod, small uh huh, uh huhs spilling out of your useless mouth.

"want me to knock you up? give you my kids? when was the last time you took your pill, baby?"

"n-not," you barely manage. "not on t-the pill anymore."

"that's what i like to fuckin' hear," he chuckles, brows furrowing just slightly, feeling the tangle in his navel now too. "gonna make you all fat and round with my kids. yeah?" he presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. "maybe if i knock you up you'll finally listen to me."

you squeal as he drives himself into your one more time, tip of his dick nudging against the sweet spot inside you, threatening to push past the tight ring of your cervix. just presses his chest against your back and pushes, grinds the head against your walls. "daddy, too much!" you cry out, arms scrambling for purchase. his thrusts are brutal; you can practically feel the bruises he's pressing into your skin, pretty blue-black marks you know will show up tomorrow morning. 

"shut up." he hisses, taking both your wrists in one of his own, pinning them above your head. "shut the fuck up and take it." keigo shudders, trying his hardest to hold on just a little more, just one more thrust before he's falling apart, a groan clawing through his throat and bubbling out of his mouth as he cums and cums and cums. it's overwhelming, the feeling of him filling you to the brim and more with cum. white hot and thick, dripping out the sides of his cock as he plugs you full.

you hear him sigh, arm collapsing and giving way until he's flopped on top of you, cock softening inside you. you welcome the warm weight of your boyfriend on top of you, hoisting one of his arms in your hands to tuck between you and the sheets, resting your cheek against the toned muscle of his bicep.

"long day?" you ask, finally. the smell of the both of you, your floral sweetness mixing with the sweaty hue of his tired body, drifting through the air. he's so tired, barely moving, but you don't mind the crushing. it was comforting, in its own way.

"the longest," he sighs, nuzzling his face into your neck before he snaps up suddenly. "oh. right," he reaches over to the side of the bed where he'd shucked off his jeans (you don't even remember him doing that, probably in your haze of lust.)

"mm?" you hum, smiling softly at him. he pulls out a white glove, one torn from the base to the index finger, and flicks you in the head with it.

"gotta stop leaving your traces all over the place, baby," he chides you gently. "never know what would've happened if someone found it before i did.”

keigo and you met years ago- at a coffeeshop near your university where you studied forensic psychology and he studied english. you'd spilt your matcha latte all over his shirt and apologised profusely, and he'd laughed it off.

"no worries, sweetheart," he took your chin in his fingers, a soft smile playing on his lips. "hey— enough apologisin' yeah?" 

and after that, you began bumping into him more and more. it would have been worrying if you weren't so enamoured with his gaze, midas gold and luxurious, yet still held an air of comfort in them. like you could crawl into him and lay yourself to rest in him. you didn't realise the bright crimson feather that stuck itself to the bottom of your tote bag, following you wherever you went. by the first week, he knew your whole schedule. he knew which classes you were in, which dormitory you stayed in, the sound of your roommate's voice.

it wasn't his fault you were so pretty, so delicate, so vulnerable. it wasn't his fault he thought you needed extra protection. you were just so lovely, anyone would be lucky to even be looked at by you. what if you got into trouble? what if you needed help? it was just for safety, he convinced himself.

keigo thought you were stupid. thought you didn't know about the fact that he was tracking you. he convinced himself that, to him, you were another air headed bimbo to fuck and then move on to the next one. of course, he'd never gone to these lengths for any other girl before, but somehow, you were different.

and to you, he was different. your roommate warned you of those golden eyes, that warm smile that seemed a little too friendly. "he's fine," you insisted, looking at yourself in the mirror for the fifth time that night, pulling your skirt down, pulling your dress up as you waited for keigo to text you, to pick you up for your first date. "i'll text you if anything goes wrong, i promise."

and of course, the date went well. he took you to dinner and then to a lovely little park, and then back to his apartment to fuck your brains out. tugging your wrist in his, you remember the way you tripped over each other to get to his bedroom, pulling clothes every which way. it was almost embarrassing how fast the word daddy slipped out of your mouth that night. but how couldn't you, with the way he was prying your legs open, calling you his good baby? with the way he was feeding you his cock, slapping the fat tip of it against your slick folds? it was natural, almost sickeningly so.

you liked him. god, you liked him. an outrageous amount. like you couldn't stand to be without him for more than a day. and strangely enough, he found your neediness endearing. like he wanted to be the centre of your attention all of the time. keigo was so unfamiliar with the concept of actually liking someone that he couldn't tell how he felt about you until that night.

see, the thing with keigo was that even though he was wrapped around your pinky finger, he found it so hard to move on from his... prideful ambitions. and so every time you rounded a corner to see some skank's arm draped around his torso, or some bitch's hand stroking his wings, you broiled in a mixing pot of anger and jealousy. no matter how many times he reassured you, no, sweetheart, i'm not cheating on you and baby, you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen. it wasn't enough for you. not until you had them in front of you, motionless, pale, and drained of blood.

keigo had wondered where you went. you'd left your tote bag in your dorm room so he couldn't track you down. usually he’d leave it, roll his eyes and wait for you to reply but when you let his calls run to voicemail and you left him on read too many times, he decided to go out. tuck some crimson red feathers in the corners of buildings, alleyways just in case you came by. sent other feathers drifting around just in case you decided to stay in one place. and finally, after what felt like hours, he stumbled upon a small alleyway with a figure too closely resembling yours crouching down by the ground.

he listened to the soft choking sounds, the pleas of please, stop, it hurts. stood there and did nothing but watched. not because he was scared, no. but because he was curious. curious who lay in front of you, and why. he let your victim thrash about, writhing in pain before eventually stopping, laying limp in front of you, and when her head hit the ground with a satisfyingly hollow thump, he recognises her as the girl he talked to just earlier this morning.

keigo watches you, ominous fascination coursing through his veins, golden gaze pathetic. he was a hero, groomed and perfected by the safety commission, and he just let a girl die; for what? because he was so enamoured with the girl who killed her? because he was so infatuated with the way you breathed now, your shoulders rolling back like this is your first hit of a joint, relaxing and softening from weeks-long tension?

"impressive," is the only thing he says, and when you whip around, there's some sort of kindling ferocity in your eyes. he holds his hands up in surrender, a sign of innocence. "no, truly."

you have a quirk; when it manifested, your mother had you wear gloves, made you stay away from other kids. because through the sweat glands of your palms, you could drain any living being of blood within minutes. it was scary, naturally, for your mother to find that out. it explained why you always felt faint; that without draining somebody else's blood, you never really had enough on your own. blood didn't clot fast enough to stop you from losing blood rapidly. blood was precious, blood was essential to you. other people's blood.

the pints of blood the hospital supplied you was never enough. the blood donations, transfusions, nothing worked the same way as when you laid a hand, skin to skin on somebody's arm and drained them. that feeling of euphoria, of strength rejuvenating in your bones. it felt like breathing for the first time, a thirst quenched, a hunger quelled.

over the years you'd perfected it; sped it up so you could drained a whole average sized body in seconds, or learn how to tell when a certain amount has been drained. but though you learned to control it, to decide when your glands worked as needles, when your blood becomes too thin, or runs too low it's harder for you to control. harder for you to discern when you should or shouldn't utilise it. your god-given gift.

"like a vampire," keigo joked when you told him this.

"fuck off," you seethed, slapping his bicep. "what are you gonna do now? sell me out to your dumb pro hero agency?"

"it's the hero commission, sweetheart," he started. "and of course not. why would i do that?"

you shrugged. "thought you wanted to be the next big shot pro. can't do that if you're an accessory to a murder."

so you aren't as dumb as you seem. keigo smiles. as much as he loved the way you went dumb on his cock, or dependent hanging off his sleeve begging him to ask the counter for some ketchup, he liked you like this; scheming, plotting, always one step ahead. you were always one step ahead.

this wasn't the first time you'd done this. of course not, he thinks, it can't be. because as you slip a pair of pristine white gloves back over your right hand with a practiced precision, fishing out a rag and wiping down the surface of the skin, it was obvious this was like routine. "diluted bleach," you murmured, explaining the acrid smell. "gets rid of any fingerprints or dna."

he watched you clean any evidence of yourself from the corpse, before getting back up on your feet. "you're not gonna bury it?"

you shrugged. "they're gonna find it either way." you turned to him, a small smile on your lips. he would have thought it adorable if you didn't just drained a girl completely of her blood right before him. "and plus, i forgot my shovel."

keigo couldn't help but chuckle. but pull you into his chest and kiss you, slow and deep. "what a girl," he whispered in your ear. "that's my fuckin' girl."

fucked up couldn't even begin to describe your relationship with keigo after that.

and ears deep in love was an understatement to how keigo felt about you.

he ruined every crime scene, botched every manila file. protected you fiercely in every way he could in his position in the hero commission. never once did he question what he was doing; to him it was you first, everything else came after.

did he get reprimanded for his slowness on the cases? on the mysterious disappearances of forensic evidence? on the fact that no one was any closer to solving the case of the crimson reaper? of course. but he didn't care, because as long as he came home to his sweet girlfriend, your arms wrapping around his neck and peppering his face with kisses like a dutiful wife, he'd abuse any power to keep you safe.

and that included today. "ms president," hawks greets when he walks into the room, the clinical fluorescents washing out any life from the room. it feels sterile; the blank stares, the gloomy, overcast weather that painted the backdrop of the meeting through the large glass windows.

"mr. takami," she smiles, tightlipped. hawks could count the wrinkles that stained her forehead, etched like valleys, fruition of the canyons of burden she shouldered. "so kind of you to join us."

"of course, ms president." his hands, shoved deep into his pants pockets flexed, a small wring of anxiety that plagues him whenever he's called to these meetings. that they'd finally saw through him, and are coming for you right as they speak. "it's always a pleasure to be here."

he was taught since he was a little kid, since he was taken in by the commission; the job he was made for. the purpose he was born to fulfil. to make musutafu a better place, to protect civilians. and he did! he did a damn good job. but right now, more than anything else he'd been taught, there came you, who turned his nights into days and touched fleeting heart and turned it to gold.

"the other ranked heroes should be here soon," she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. "how's the crimson reaper case? any good news?"

hawks' hands slip out of his pockets, straightening them by his sides and bowing slightly. "i'm sorry, ms. president. i can't say anything's any better than it's been since the last meeting."

her breath hitches, and with a grim expression, turns away from him. "no matter," she starts. "i know we are all working as hard as we can. we will get this killer," there's a certain acid in her tone, corroding and pooling on her tongue. hawks can hear the frown, the anger and the frustration in her tone. "and we will keep musutafu safe."

endeavour is the first one in the room after that, his big, hulking figure looming by the door way. "madam president," he greets, and then turns to hawks. "brat."

hawks scoffs. "rude."

the meeting runs as all the previous did; briefing everybody on the current situation, any updates, any findings, anything new that had come up. hawks explains the newest death; the background, who she was, the places she'd been before. "there's no connection between this victim and the rest," he continues. "which further cements that the reaper doesn't have a pattern. i wouldn't go as far as to say these victims are picked randomly, but that is how it appears."

"then everyone's in danger of being killed," edgeshot pipes up. "there's no way we can predict who'll be next."

there's a grim hum of agreement.

"an equal risk," hawks agrees. "there's no telling who s— they'll go for next."

"and you're sure," ryukyu raises her voice. "that we're nowhere closer to finding anything about them? after, what, 24 deaths? not a single piece of evidence?"

"really makes you wonder how much work you're putting into this," rock lock comments, the snideness in his voice not going unnoticed. "hawks agency not putting in enough hours?"

"why don't you fuckin' try it, wannabe?" mirko glowers at rock lock. “oh, that’s right. you don’t even have your own agency. why don’t you try becoming a ranked hero before you give your opinion?” 

“ms. usagiyama,” the president clips. “mr. takagi. i would rather there be no internal conflict within the pro heroes when there’s a common enemy that deserves our utmost attention.”

neither of them say a word after that. blunt tipped tones and thick tension; it was natural for the frustration to get to them, have them saying things they’d usually be able to contain. hawks smiles weakly, mumbles a small, it’s alright, before continuing. “we do have several leads,” he starts again. “we are investigating especially those with blood-related quirks, since the signature style of the reaper is the victim drained of blood. we have yet to find a reason for this, why the blood is being used.” 

“we had the tests run at all hospitals and donation drives in musutafu,” best jeanist adds. “testing the blood sample from the body to see if any of the blood had been donated. nothing came up. whatever it is, the killer’s using it for themselves.” 

“well maybe we should check neighbouring cities,” kamui woods suggests. “the reaper only comes by once a week at most. they could be from neighbouring towns.”

“you think they’d lug five litres of blood to another town?”

“five litres is nothing. that’s a 5 kilo dumbbell.”

internally, hawks chuckles. he knows the drained blood has led them on a wild goose chase; any blood drained was already in your bloodstream, since the glands drained the blood from their body directly into yours. you’d only started puncturing holes with needles to throw them off; make them think that it was external instruments that aided in the blood collection. in fact, that was his idea, brought up one night at dinner when you were tossing ideas on how to make it more fun for you.

that’s what it was. fun. other than the element of needing blood— you didn’t need nearly as much as you were getting. one body could last you maybe a month or two if you stretched it right— you did this for fun. it's a thrill at this point, doing them closer and closer to the city centre, in places where people could peer into an alleyway and see you crouched by a motionless body. there's a glint in your eye, keigo notices, when you see somebody you want. an interesting quirk, a streak of your favourite colour in their hair; once you set your eyes on someone, you'll never take them off.

they were right, in that one thing about you. it was random. unpredictable. you never let them know what you're about to do next, and you liked it that way.

"we do," endeavour starts, clearing his throat. "have some eyewitness reports from around the area. the killing— this one, most recent one— happened around 3 to 5 in the morning according to forensics, and a, uh, miss miyazaki toi reported seeing a figure in green along the street, leaving the opposite direction from the alleyway at about 4:30."

madam president perks up. "any other indicators? hair colour? height?"

"she, uh, said she was too far away to make out anything of essence."

"gait? posture? anything?"

endeavour shakes his head. "nothing, madam president. i can get in touch with the eyewitness again, but it's not likely she'll have anything new to share."

hawks clears his own throat, thumping his chest once. whoever that miyazuki or whatever saw, that wasn't you. and he knows this because at 4:30 am you were fucked out, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fucked you into his mattress. whimpering, drooling, clawing at his skin for him to slow down, his hips slapping against yours as he emptied his balls into your waiting pussy.

and also, you don't wear green. not your colour.

but he knows madam president, knows that she'll exhaust every avenue, every lead until it turns up dead at her doorstep. this eyewitness testimony just bought you a couple more weeks as they chase down whatever poor soul was walking along a street at 4 in the morning.

as the meeting concludes, several pro heroes pat hawks on the back, thanking him for working overtime for this case, taking such a genuinely draining case under his wing. he just smiles, murmuring in acknowledgement. he can see the tight rings of sleeplessness wound under their eye lines, and for a moment, he feels a speck of pity for them. maybe he does feel sympathetic, that a savage killer ravages the streets of his town. but he can't bring himself to condemn your actions. can't find it in himself to look at you with anything but utmost adoration, like a kitten who had brought a chewed up bird to him in its mouth, big doe eyes asking, are you proud of me?

keigo is. always has been proud of you. you made a name for yourself, never left a trace of yourself in your wake. you are such a clever girl, beautiful and kind, and you bring sunshine to your household with the aroma of the cookies you bake every saturday. keigo loves you. endlessly, relentlessly. if he had to jeopardise his career and watch the city of musutafu tremble in the wake of your actions just to see that smile on your face every time he came home, it was done. in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

he flies home that night. picks up a couple of custard tarts for you on the way, from your favourite bakery, and a bubble tea. maybe you'd eat dinner together and he'd sit you on his lap while you watched another shitty romcom that he would deny he loved. maybe he'd wash the dishes while you focused on your assignment, chewing on the back of your apple pencil from a habit you never really grew out of. either way, he's excited to come home, to see you, feel you in his arms again.

the sliding door is ajar when he lands in the balcony, tucking his wings tight behind him as he pulls it a little more open, slipping inside. he's hit with the aroma of curry wafting through the threshold before he spots you, his love and light, his achilles heel standing by the stove in your favourite pink and white apron, stirring a pot. he lights up; it's embarrassing how fast he drops his bags and shuffles over to the kitchen, quietly wrapping his arms around your front as he leans against your back.

"keigo," you murmur softly. "welcome home, baby."

keigo hums. "i missed you."

you giggle softly. "you always say that."

"because it's always true." he raises his head slightly, tucking it into the crook where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your skin. you have a litany of marks, varying in shades, deep blue or a fading red scattered along the plump skin. "i miss you every second i'm not with you."

you twist the knob of the stove off, giving the curry one last customary stir before pushing off the edge of the countertop, twisting around to face your boyfriend. you heave his heavy arms around your torso, under your armpits and slump back into him. "you're such a sap," you whisper, burying your face into his shoulder, tucking your head under his chin. he rubs his nose along your temple, sweet nothings murmured into the space between you.

"did you miss me too, baby?"

there's a flicker of embarrassment that flashes hot in your bloodstream, and you can't seem to brush it off. "yes, daddy," you whisper back, letting out a shaky breath. "missed you, so, so much."

he smiles, brings one hand up to tip your chin upwards before catching your lips in a kiss. a gentle, breathless one, one that has you swaying on your tip toes, clutching on to the collar of his work jacket. "that's my sweet girl," he murmurs. "wanna make you my wife one day."

and you giggle, rolling your eyes. "you're all talk," you chastise him, turning away again to begin plating your dinner. the lid of the rice cooker pops open and you scoop heaps for him, and just as much for you. "how much curry do you want, honey?"

"lots," he hums, wrapping his arms around your waist again, tucking his chin on your shoulder. "chicken?"

"yup," you pat his cheek. "your favourite."

keigo watches as you scoop ladlefuls of curry onto his plate, stewed chicken and vegetables in a rich traditional curry atop a bed of rice. god, his mouth is watering just watching you plate it. he has got to make you his wife.

as he sits next to you at the kitchen island, bowls of curry half eaten he looks over at you, chewing thoughtfully, eyes glimmering, and wonders what good he'd done in his last life to deserve someone like you. as you settle in his lap for your nightly movie, dead poets society playing on the tv, he strokes your hair, runs his fingers down your back. he wants to savour every hour, minute, second he's got with you. fall into a dimension where neither of you are needed anywhere but in each other's arms.

time is a leaking faucet, dripping and draining into the rippling river between the two of you, the rhythmic, drip, drip, drip reminds him that this time is finite, that there is nothing in the world that lasts forever and ever. and as hard as he might try, there will come a day that he will have to part from you.

but that day is not today, he reminds himself as you lean your tired head on his plush chest. you squeak softly when his grip around your waist tightens, and he pulls you closer to him. "i missed you," he whines, high and pitchy and so unlike the outer facade he had put on for his public image. "baby, oh baby, i fuckin' missed you so bad."

you giggle. "you said that already," you loop your arms around his neck. "say something different."

"like what?" he looks at you quizzically. "like, oh, i dreamed about fucking you all day."

"crude!" you slap his bicep. "another one."

he hums, in thought. "i couldn’t stop thinking about you."

"that's so cliche." you laugh. "come on, number two hero, most eligible bachelor in japan. hit me with your best shot."

"marry me." it's out of his mouth before he can stop it, before he can think. what usually was meant to be kept under lock and key, spoken into existence. what plagued his every day, clouded up his mind, finally out there for more than his subconscious to hear.

and the way your face changes, the subtle relaxation of your cheeks and your mouth, he watches all of it with bated breath, with a small glint of hesitation, of regret. he'd never regretted anything he did with you, but there was something to be said about the twist in his heart as he waited for you reply. "are you seriously asking me like this?" you whisper, eyes wide, mouth hanging a little.

"and if i am?" he asks, and before he has a chance to regret it, you kiss him, quick and fierce and so, so desperate, like you can't stand to be disconnected from him physically for even a second more. he breathes you in, shifting so he's sitting up a little more attentively, holding you down against him. you whimper into the kiss, his bruising grip on your arms returned by the way you dig your fingernails into his skin. like you're marking one another, leaving indents as evidence of your influence over each other's bodies.

your hand finds home on his collarbones, fingers splayed out over the warm flesh. you find his pulse point, pressing your thumb against it. "say it again," you beg, some kind of sick, twisted, desperate need to hear those words drip from keigo's mouth again. "again." you demand, pressing harder.

"marry me." it comes out strained, the pressure of your hands tightening around his neck cutting off blood momentarily. it makes him dizzy, but the figure of you in front of him is still crystal clear. "baby, marry me."

the world burns around the two of you. moves on, runs along, but the two of you are stuck here in this moment, visiting it and revisiting it. you hold him and he holds you, the only person he's ever genuinely cared about, the only person he's loved.

weeks pass, and the crimson reaper is all but gone.

this is the longest time in the last year since that name made the news with the finding of a new body. to be exact, it's been 34 days since the last crimson reaper killing. hawks can see that musutafu has breathed a sigh of relief, and the hero commission has stopped being so anal about daily reporting. patrolling has been a lot less stressful. pro heroes are getting a semblance of control back.

you're fine. hawks knows you are; you're just as chipper, bouncy, and lovely as you've always been. he wondered for a little bit if there was something different in that tomita girl's blood; so much so that you didn't need your regular weekly fix, or even the mandatory monthly one. but you laughed it off, telling him don't worry, baby, and that he'll see soon enough.

you're a smart girl. he trusted you to make good decisions.

after that night, his sudden question and your hand on his throat demanding him to repeat it, you found yourselves in the throes of progression. towards what, from what, you couldn't really tell. all you knew is that there was a softness within keigo that, even with how loving he'd been since you met, you'd never really seen till now. all you knew is that, to him, wife sounded so much better than girlfriend.

he hasn't proposed properly, he reminds you, and that until he can put a ring on your finger, that night was but a promise to greater things to come. but that didn't stop him from calling you his wife every so often, under his breath, over the phone. it was casual, yet subtly intimate. you couldn't help but flush some nights after that when he kissed you everywhere, and the word wife would drip from his mouth if he wasn't careful.

you thought it adorable. you loved— love— it. you tried the word husband on your tongue, once, twice. my husband. i'll have to ask my husband. i'm seeing my husband. it... fit. weirdly. of all the things in your life you would never have thought that you'd come anywhere near calling anyone your husband. but for keigo, it fit.

keigo's asleep when you come home.

it's ticking close to 3 now. all the lights in the apartment are off, save for a lamp in the hallway. keigo always leaves that one specific lamp on for you to come home to, and you always switch it off on your way to your bedroom. and that's what you do, adrenaline still rushing through your veins. you aren’t tired; you never are after a night like this. sometimes you wonder if keigo’s initial assessment of your quirk was right. vampire made so much sense with how much more energetic and powerful you felt after a kill. 

synergy courses through your veins, up your arteries and through your beating heart. the adrenaline, the electricity, the excitement. 

you pad through the living room and the kitchen, stopping to pour yourself a glass of cold water before shuffling softly back to the bedroom. keigo’s left it slightly ajar for you, and you can see, with the small sliver of dim orange glow, the man of your dreams splayed out on your bed, the covers pulled up and rumpled around his torso. keigo sleeps shirtless, always has, and from where you stand you can see a little bit of his golden skin, softened muscle under the covers. 

he’s beautiful, peace and comfort painted across his face, the steady rise and fall of his chest signalling his deep sleep. you pad over softly, placing your water cup by your bedside and leaning over your boyfriend to plant a small kiss on his cheek before walking to the bathroom. 

the water is warm against your back, rivulets of slightly pink-tinted water running down your body. sweat gives way and you start to feel clean, the smell of lavender and mint steaming in the room, fogging up your mirrors. you lean your head back against the cold tile, letting your eyelids flutter shut. it’s been a long day. college in the morning, work in the afternoon, homicide in the evening. really tuckers a bitch out. 

but yet you can’t stop the trail of your fingers, the light, ghostly touch along the front of your torso. it’s been a long day, but you can’t stop yourself from thinking about keigo this morning, waking you up with his tongue on your clit, hands gripping the flesh of your hips so tight. you can’t stop the tingling of your hands, filled with the blood of the last victim you drank. all your energy, circulating to the heat in your core. you stifle a soft moan now, letting your soft fingertips inch down lower, and lower. 

you like that, don’t you? you could hear keigo’s voice in the empty chamber of your mind, a smug smile on his lips peering up at you from between your legs, nosing along the sensitive top of your cunt. like it when daddy wakes you up like this.

you did. you do. you can’t stop thinking of it now, not as your fingers make contact with the swollen nub of your clit. you give it one tentative press and gasp, back arching into your own grip. the water is warm, so warm, beating down on your tired body and you just want to let your brain and all its stupid little thoughts to ooze out of your ears, wash away with the running shower. 

“daddy,” you whimper softly, imagining his big, calloused fingertips instead of yours, his body caging you up against the wall. he’d hold you close to him, so close, chest to chest so that your tits press up against his pecs, his left hand wrapped around your back, his right playing with your sensitive pussy. you whine, just thinking of the way he’d shush your cries, coo at you as you bite down hard on his shoulder. 

your thoughts are a haze as you dip your fingers shallowly into your cunt, sticky and slick with both shower water and your own arousal. the moans you let out are criminal, ripping through your mouth and through your lips before you can stop them. you need to feel him, any part of him now. now.

stumbling out of the bathroom, you dry your feet on the rug, patting yourself half dry before shuffling back to your bedroom, naked and damp. the bed dips where you kneel, sinking slightly and keigo stirs, but doesn’t wake. your hands are trembling, your need and excitement barely contained under a sheen of self control. need it. you need it.

you peel back the covers that obscure him from your preening gaze, miles and miles of tan, smooth golden flesh laying in front of you, sun spots and moles mapping along his torso. he’s so beautiful, it makes you want to devour him whole. he’s wearing a pair of grey boxers, the outline of his cock subtle but still, there. your mouth waters at the sight. 

“daddy,” you whisper again, mesmerised by the way his skin glows in the low lamplight, greeting you as you pull the waistband of his boxers down. “‘m sorry, need it so bad.”

keigo’s still sound asleep, completely oblivious to your mischief. you pull his boxers down, over his hips and down his thighs, and there it is; his cock, already half hard, twitches as you touch it, let your fingertip drift along the underside of it. the patch of blonde curls brushes up against your knuckles as you touch him and it’s so soft. you whimper; you want his cock in your mouth. 

so you bend down, and lick a stripe up from the base to the tip. keigo smells like fabric softener and an undertone of vanilla from your shared body wash, comforting and comfortable. gods, you want him so bad. you fit him into your mouth, and you hear a hitch in his breath, and you feel a spike in your heart rate at the prospect of him waking up to see his cock halfway down your throat, but he doesn’t rouse. just shifts slightly, and you continue.

keigo’s cock is so thick, so long, and whatever you can’t fit comfortably in your mouth you resort to stroking it slowly. your eyes flutter closed, like a baby with a pacifier. you’re quiet, humming and whimpering every so often, content with his cock in your mouth. you wish you could do this to him every night, give him a little surprise when he cums down your throat still asleep. 

you bob your head along the length of him, swallowing as much of him down as you can that you choke, gag a little. the heat in your core is searing, never-ending, building as you moan around his cock, your slobber easing the glide of it down your throat. at this point you’re drooling all over his pretty dick, breath hot and eyes hooded, watching the rapid rise and uneven fall of his chest. he’s close, you can tell by the way his thighs are clenching, balls twitching. he’s fully hard on your tongue, tip flushed red and leaking, and you think it’s a waste to have him cum anywhere but right inside you, nestled right up by your cervix.

so you pull off his dick, smile at the slight huff from him, and climb gracefully atop of him. this is new to you; you’ve only ever sucked keigo off, played with his ass for a little while he was sleeping, but never went as far as to fuck him while he was asleep. it sends an unholy thrill down your spine, and as soon as you feel the blunt tip of his cock nudge along your slit, you’re dumb to the world. 

it’s so exciting, your burning need met with his unconscious body, seating yourself on his cock. you whimper at the stretch of your ill-prepared pussy, unstretched, untouched, stinging with the intrusion of his fat cock. you fall forward, hands clattering to the sides of keigo’s torso, a gasp ripping through your lips as you slip, feel a sharp pop in your cunt before you swallow him down to the hilt. it’s not pain, not anguish that skitters through your veins, his long, thick cock bullying your walls and stretching you out. it’s familiarity. it’s the way your cunt is moulded into the shape of him, gummy walls giving way to him, your pussy spread around him, slick pooling on his navel.

it’s the familiar grumble of his chest, a grunt and a groan caught in his lips. “baby?” he calls for you, left hand reaching out to your side of the bed, as he does every night when you join him, just so he knows that you’re there. but his hands find blank canvas, and he whimpers, before his eyes flutter open just a little. and then the realisation sinks in; his body starts to wake up, synapses rousing from sleep, and he feels, feels your cunt pulse around him.

keigo groans. “baby.”

you giggle. “good morning, daddy.” 

you raise your hips just slightly, moving up along his cock before letting yourself fuck me down against him. he slings an arm over his eyes, wanton moans ripping out of his throat, and his other arm comes around to grip your hips. he guides you up, down, lets you fall against his chest as you fuck yourself violently against his cock. keigo does nothing; lies there and coos at you, “baby, naughty little baby. couldn’t even wait for daddy to wake up to fuck her, huh?”

you whimper. “no, c-couldn’t,” you manage to croak out. it feels like his dick’s in your throat with how deep he is, pushing up against your cervix, bullying your insides. he holds you close, digging his arms under your armpits and holding you, chest flushed to his. “god you— you feel so good.” 

keigo hums. “that’s my girl, that’s my girl. taking it so well,” he breathes, a stuttered gasp. “god, i’m close. did you— naughty fuckin’ girl, yeah— did you suck me off?”

you nod dumbly, panting into his mouth. “i did, daddy, couldn’t help it,” you babble, eyes crossing. “y-you looked so good, needed— ah, needed it!”

“just needed some dick in your mouth,” he hums, chuckling. “desperate little baby.”

you’re drooling on his chest, spit dribbling out of the side of your mouth. “feels— f-feels so good daddy,” you pant, trying to sit back up, planting your hands on his chest. “wanna— ride you properly.”

“go on,” he coaxes you, letting a hand drift down the side of your hip. “show daddy how you ride. make me cum.”

you fall apart, bouncing on his cock, the rough patch of blonde curls brushing up against your clit with every downward stroke. “daddy,” you whimper, head thrown back in ecstasy. “oh— oh!”

keigo grunts, the dim orange light illuminating the bounce of your tits, the vigour of your rhythm leaving both of you drooling, blabbering. “you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, captivated by the swell of your body, the pudge flesh and doughy thighs that encompass him. the tightness in his core begins to build, his balls twitching as he tries to stave off his own orgasm in favour of yours. “are you close?” he whispers, hand coming down to rub at your sensitive clit. “wanna feel you cum.”

“w-want,” you pant. “want you to cum first.” it’s a beg, a plea, a vow. 

he grunts, eyes squeezing. “i’m pretty fuckin’ close, baby,” he whispers, thumb rubbing circles faster onto the swell of your clit. “cum with me, okay? wanna— fuck, wanna feel with milk me when i cum. can you do that?”

you’re brainless, pathetic, but hell if you were going to say no to something your daddy so politely asked. you bite your tongue, nodding slightly, and let your head tilt in pleasure, euphoria rippling through your bloodstream. he’s so deep, so good inside of you it drives you crazy, the bashing feeling of his cockhead against the gummy sweet spot in your pussy. your fists tighten, gripping him harder as you feel pressure build in your navel. “i-i’m close,” you stutter, trying to keep your eyes open. “want you to cum. c-cum for me, daddy, cum inside.”

he almost baulks at your crudeness, but obliges nonetheless. keigo’s given your everything you’ve ever wanted or needed, without so much as a second thought. “yeah? wanna feel daddy’s cum inside you?” he coos in your ear, his hands running up your thighs and settling by your hips. “want daddy to knock you up?”

you nod pathetically, mouthing, yes, yes! as he squeezes your flesh, one of his thick, giant hands pulling away your own on your clit, tinier and smaller, and replacing it with his own. “please, please, daddy—”

that does him in, bursts the tightening of his balls and feels himself empty into your waiting, welcoming cunt. all he can feel are the weak pulses of your gummy walls around him; a weak orgasm milking him for all he’s worth. his touch, grip on your clit doesn't move, just continues to fuck you through your heavy orgasm. you both cum at the same time, the gush of your cum paralleling the thick, white seed that stuffs you so full that you can feel it leak out of you through the sides of his cock. “just like that,” he whispers to you, halfway out of his own orgasm, voice still wavering and thighs shaking. “say thank you, daddy.”

“thank you daddy,” you whine, and despite yourself, you continue dragging yourself up and down his cock. it’s sensitive, painful, but you can’t seem to stop. keigo groans, hands stilling on your hips. 

“slow down, baby,” he chuckles dryly, almost like he’s in pain. “daddy’s still cummin’— ah—”

“wanna make you,” you huff, some sort of twisted energy running through your veins. “make you cum again, daddy.” you usually only had enough in you for one round, especially at a time like this, but you couldn’t stop yourself now. the feeling of his first load of cum dripping down your thighs only served to spur you on, delirious, frozen in a state of abject desire and need. “fuck, daddy!”

he whines again, head tilted back, eyes wincing. “what’s gotten into you, kitten?” keigo trails his fingers along your hips, watching you bounce on his cock, eyes hooded with euphoria. “had a good kill?”

your kill. of course it is. the blood of someone else, someone so powerful, screaming through your ears, pumping like lead in your bloodstream. it’s almost oblong, despite the liquid nature of blood, causes your hands to tremble, fingers to shake. that’s why you feel ike this. that’s why you have so much energy. that’s why you need more. you grin at keigo, and for a moment, he feels fear.

your sharp canines flash in the moonlight, its dusty silver gaze glimmering in your body, in your eyes, in the way your nails dig deeper into his chest. for years, years, keigo has only regarded you with love. with subliminal adoration. with nothing but affection, holding you in his hands. but here, in the middle of the night, he notices a splatter of blood on your collarbone. winces at the sensation of your nails breaking flesh. 

for a moment, he fears you. he fears you’ve truly lost it. 

and to be truthful, you have. you’re delirious with ecstasy, you’re high— you’ve never felt like this before. killing has never come so close to feeding. blood has never come so close to addiction. but right now, you’d do anything for this feeling to last forever. the memory of you striking your victim down, your foot holding down his neck as he thrashed, looked at you with abject horror, shimmering like tears in his green eyes.

you’ve never felt so much fun in a kill. never craved those screaming pleas, those last gasps of breaths. never have you been so excited to roll up somebody’s sleeve and take off your glove, hold them with all five fingers, your full palm against their bare skin. but this man, god, was he tantalising. his deep voice, begging you to stop, begging you to leave him be. any amount of money, he’d promised. anything. just leave me alone.

but no money could give you this feeling. this excitement. you grinned, malice and cruelty trembling on your lips. “i’m so sorry,” you mocked his weeping tones. “i’m so sorry.”

“c-crim— ah— son… reap-per,” he breathed, choking out his words. “t-they’ll—” he coughed, gasping for air. puny, pitchy, desperate gasps for air. 

“t-they,” you mocked again, gripping his arm tighter, feeling the rush of newer, fresher, stronger blood enter your bloodstream. “they’ll catch me? you have so little faith in me,” he winced, and you just laughed, flashing him your canines. 

he turned paler, rosey tinted cheeks turning blue, gaunt. the life in his eyes slowly diminished as you sucked the last remaining litre out of his body. “y-you’ll never…”he trailed off, voice turning to a whisper, then to air. 

you’ll never get away with this. 

but you would. you knew you would. and that’s why you took your own sweet time cleaning the site where your hand just was, pulling your glove back on and fishing out your needles and making four incisions; one on each elbow, and on the back of each palm. just as you always had. you traced your gloved fingers along his jaw, cold and dead, the permanent plea on the tip of his tongue. it was such a pity, that he’d fought till his last breath and still lost. 

it was true whatever they said about you, you thought as you pulled out your scalpel. that no one was safe from you. the only real way to put themselves out of danger was to keep themselves out of sight, out of mind. because once you set your eyes on someone, you didn’t stop chasing them until they were in front of you, your scalpel in their throat, dragging down, down, down. 

the man’s skin split open like rubber, and once you made your initial incision, pinpricks of the little blood he had left rising to the surface, coating your pristinely white gloves, you dived in with greedy hands, like a vulture descending upon its prey. like a predator, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. your fingers, alive with electricity, the static of your feast before you. 

you consumed. you devoured. you lived, fisting handfuls of flesh in each hand and prying it apart, the elasticity of the human skin the only testament to a dead man’s resistance. you uncovered inch by inch of glorious organ, of crimson stained ivory, of burst blood vessel. all pink and red and wet, and you want to make a mess, want to paint yourself in the remnants of this man’s blood and carry it home with you. you swore you have never felt so alive at the side of a dead man’s body.

one singular rose petal, fitted snugly in between the lungs. 

your cheeks tingled, face numb, and walked back home.

“they’ve done it again.”

the whispers on the street whistle like fallen leaves kicked up in the wind, rustling against the cool asphalt of the road. 

“the crimson reaper’s back.”

keigo barely makes it two seconds into his day before the pager buzzes. 

“did you hear who they killed this time?”

you’re half awake when he asks.

“baby?” 

you hum, softly, knowingly. 

“who did you kill last night?”

you open your eyes, and look at him through hooded lids. he’s pacing your room, golden eyes distraught, and all you do is smile at him.

you freeze. “i— what?”

a shadow materialises in front of you, and you can barely make out a shape. “i’m not gonna repeat myself. give me your money.” the shadow fades, blue wash illuminating the man in front of you. he looks scruffy, a little rough around the edges with low, sunken in eyes and sullen cheekbones. if you’re being honest, he probably needs your money more than you do, but you hold your ground.

“i d-don’t have any,” you lie through your teeth, gripping your shoes and your purse closer to your body. musutafu has been so good to you, protecting you, keeping you safe all this time that it doesn’t even dawn upon you that you’re in danger until you catch the glint of something metallic in his hand. “fuck, dude, i’m serious. i don’t have anything for you.”

your heart’s in your throat, heels digging into the ground in fear. you should run. you should pick up your feet and run, but you can’t. you’re bolted where you stand, frozen in confusion and shock and fear. “i don’t believe you,” the man tells you, his voice growing frustrated. “empty your purse on the ground.”

do you? do you submit, unzipping your purse and shaking its contents to the ground, potentially losing all your shit? you’d just got those new airpods last week. you shake your head slightly, just that little bit in your paralysed state. “i won’t,” you whisper frantically. “please— just let me go.”

“you’re messing with the wrong bastard, bitch,” you watch his face twist into something sinister, stepping forward into your space. your arms come up in instinct, the heel of your palm meeting skin with a pathetic slap, but he’s stunned enough to reel his head back with a grunt. you take your chance to turn on your heel and run but he’s faster than you, grabbing your hair and twisting his fist into it.

“f-fuck off!” you yell, ducking your elbows into his face. he takes your blows in stride, all your self defence classes failing you as he drags you closer, tugging on your hair painfully and poking the blade into your skin. you start to scream for help, thrashing against your assailant, putting all of your willpower into maiming him. you’re stepping on his feet, elbowing his abdomen, but nothing, nothing—

and you see red before you see him. the hand in your hair loosens, and you stumble forward with the weight you were fighting with. the street still looks desolate so you run, only stopping once you’re a considerable distance away. and that’s when you turn, to watch a flash of yellow and red cornering the man.

“you okay?” he throws over his shoulder at you. hawks. thank god for hero patrols. that’s the musutafu you knew, one that was crawling with heroes. your chest feels tight, hands tingling and your fingertips numb.

the faraway sound of police sirens drowns out your attempt to answer him. the man thrashed against the four feathers that held him captive, maybe a little much for a common mugger but you’re all the more thankful for it. hawks hands over the sullen man to the police, waving you over. “did he try to mug you, darlin’?”

“he had a knife,” you mumble breathlessly. your hand wraps around your side, checking for a wound. he’d just nicked you, a small tear in your dress. “he— i—“

“okay, okay, slow down.” hawks shrugs off his jacket, laying it over your shoulders. “it’s okay now. don’t worry, yeah?” he turns to the police, giving them the rundown before pushing the man into the car, slamming the door shut. “you can deal with him now, i’ll take care of the girl.” you hear him say to the officer, who nods and throws you a customary glance before leaving. the night feels so cold again, and you tighten the jacket around yourself. it’s warm, smells almost familiar; like pine and fabric softener. you wonder if you could run away with it. it’s his hero jacket, he’s bound to have more right?

“are you hurt?” hawks’ voice rouses you out of your reverie, golden eyes soft and concerned. “how’s the scratch?”

“not too bad,” you mumble, suddenly acutely aware you’re gonna get blood on his jacket. you dont really care enough to take it off though. “thanks. for, you know—”

“saving you?” he chuckles, placing a warm hand on the small of your back. “that’s my job, sweetheart. what’s a pretty girl like you walking alone at night, hm?”

“my house isn’t too far, i just— i thought i could make it back without any… incidents.” you flush slightly, turning up the collar of his jacket so he won’t see your cheeks heating up. “your jacket’s nice.”

“isn’t it?” he smiles. “come on. i’m walking you home. you don’t know what else could be out there, waiting for you.”

the light flickers. you can’t help but feel safe next to the number two hero, walking by his side. his wings are stretched just that little bit like a shield behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “you know, you’re a pretty girl,” he starts. “you shouldn’t be out alone.”

you laugh weakly. “yeah, i get that now.”

“mm,” he hums. “they could do more than mug you, you know. there’s been more and more slasher cases now, haven’t you heard?”

you grace his quips with small nods and hums of acknowledgement. it’s unnerving, and though you know he just means it for your benefit, you kinda wish he’d just stop talking. or change the subject.

“there’s also been quite a lot of assault cases. like, rape cases. you’ve gotta watch out, baby. they prey on pretty little girls like you.”

“can you not talk about that?” you shudder. “i don’t feel—”

“i’m just sayin’,” he shrugs. “they’d just take you, into one of these alleyways,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of one you’d just walked past. “corner you,” he steps just a little closer to you. “just like this.”

he backs you into a wall now, tall and looming over you. you frown, mouth run dry. “what are you—”

“i’m showing you how it’d happen, sweetheart,” he’s dangerously close to you. you can feel his breath on your cheek, on your neck. “and you’re so pretty. so hard to resist.”

“hawks,” your voice wavers. “please let me move.”

“how about,” he smiles gently, hand trailing up your arm. “you give me a little thank you gift? for saving your life back there. hm? what about it?”

you look up at him, paralysed in fear. “what do you want from me?”

“c’mere.” he grabs your wrist, thick fingers tightening around you before pulling you into a small alleyway. pulls you right next to him, chest flushed to chest. yon can feel his broad chest, sinew under his turtleneck, his steady heartbeat. being so close to him makes you weak, just a little at the knees, your thighs clenching together subconsciously. he’s so strong, thick arms wrapping around you to hold you up. “don’t go fallin’ on me, princess.”

there’s a sense of danger that nags at the back of your head, but you can’t seem to hear it as he spins you around, shoving you into the brick wall. your palms come up against the rough surface, helplessly pushing against it, your cheek smushed to the wall. “so easy,” he sneers. “could take you just like this, baby. could kiss you,” you feel his lips ghosting against the shell of your ear, making contact against your neck. “touch you so easy.”

you feel his hand snake to your front, palming against the silk of your dress. one hand gropes your tits, soft and plush and he groans into your ear, grinding his front against your ass. “pull your dress down,” he murmurs, hands gripping the low hem and tugging down. “play with your nipples. i bet you like that, don’t you?”

your throat is raw. your mouth is dry, unspeaking, eyes fluttering closed as he pinches your nipples, cold and pebbled in the chilly air. why is he touching you? why is he— he’s a hero, he wouldn’t do this to you. he’s just showing you, just telling you to be careful, isn’t he? your thighs rub together, a small sound escaping your lips. he pants into your neck, hand rucking up the bottom of your dress.

“and then,” he continues. “i’d touch you here.” his knuckles drag along the crotch of your panties, and he curses. “holy fuck. you’re getting off on this, princess. you’re soaked.” his fingers slide under the hem of your panties, rubbing against your drooling cunt.

“i—” you start, but he cuts you off when his fingers slip into your tight hole, your words twisting into a whine. “what— what are you—”

“shhh,” he hushes you, pressing a kiss to your lips. he tastes like apples and honey, with just a tinge of expensive wine. “let it happen. let me take care of you.” he bunches up your skirt over your hips, slipping your panties down your thighs. “gotta learn how to say thank you, yeah?”

his fingers fuck into you slowly, almost gently, like he’s massaging against your g-spot. you’re crumpling in his hands, shaking your head vehemently. “i don’t want this, please, don’t take my virginity—”

“you’re a virgin,” he gasps mockingly. “and yet you’re fucking soaked for a total stranger. i’m beginning to think you’re lyin’ to me princess. go on, push me away. push me away if you want me to stop.”

but you can’t, not with his fingers crooking right up against your g-spot. you gasp as his other hand finds your clit, rubbing messy circles into the slick nub. “i— i, fuck,” you breathe, your orgasm building in your belly. you can feel it, the familiar sensation that has your toes curling, your head tilting up. he takes advantage of his, planting his lips on your neck and sucking, nibbling just slightly. you mewl.

“hawks,” you stutter. “‘m cummin’, cumming—!”

“gonna let you cum,” he whispers. “i’m nice enough. other fuckers wouldn’t even care. but i’d make you cum, baby,” his fingers fuck into you faster, abusing your poor, gushing pussy. “just like that. let me rape you, hm? so fuckin’ easy for me.”

you can’t help the words that spill out of your mouth as you cum hard around his fingers, that twinge into the air between you. “rape me, rape me,” you murmur, eyes glassy. “need— fuck, need you to—”

he chuckles. “you want me to rape you, baby?” he kisses the nape of your neck. “say it again.”

“hawks,” your voice is hoarse, wavering. “want you to— to rape me. s-steal my virginity.”

he’s on you faster than you can even register it. you feel his stiff cock resting on your back, groaning something in your ears that you can’t quite comprehend, your mind hazy with the need for him to be inside you. whining, you push your hips back against his, silent begging for his touch.

“i got you, i got you. slow down, sweetheart.” his hands fit on your hips, the dips and curves melting under his warm fingers. “i’m being so kind to you, you know? no one else would ever rape you like this.”

“t-thank you,” you mutter, head swarming. his cockhead presses up against your slit, the head catching as he pushes, pushes so hard to fit. you gasp, falling forward into the rough wall again. you try to wiggle out of his grip, running from his cock. “w-wait, wait— you’re huge, it’s not gonna—”

smack. “don’t move.” he commands you, voice silvery and cool. “i’ve been nice enough. don’t make me angry.” he smooths a hand down your back before spreading your legs wider. “you’re gonna take it, okay? i’m gonna make it fit.” he rubs the reddening skin softly, soothing it before he starts pushing into your tight cunt again. you whimper, shoving a hand between your teeth to muffle it as hawks pushes past the tight ring of muscle, bottoming out inside you with one sharp thrust.

“there we go,” he murmurs. “see? you can take it. your little virgin pussy can take it.”

you melt into his arms as he fucks you, somehow both gentle and rough. his thrusts are sharp but slow, calculated to hit against your sweet spot with every thrust. he’s filling the silence with gentle coos, encouraging you as you wither away, gasping and panting and begging. “you like this, baby?” he kisses your temple. “like your big hero taking advantage of your sweet virgin cunt like this? go on. use your big girl words.”

“i-i like it,” you stutter, fucked dumb by the stretch of his cock. “i like it s-so much, hawks…”

he hums. “i can tell. you’re clenching on my dick, princess.” his thrusts grow faster, sharper. “gonna cum in you, yeah? you came once already, now it’s my turn.” your eyes widen at his words, shaking your head violently, soft please, don’t, pull out please’s on the tip of your tongue when his hand comes up to your face, stocky fingers pushing past the seam of your lips. he presses down on your tongue, hooking against the inside of your cheek. “that wasn’t a request, baby. i am going to cum inside you.”

you’re overpowered, overwhelmed. his cock is kissing your cervix with every thrust now, heavy balls slapping against your clit, hips jutting against your ass. it’s all so much, too much that your eyes flutter shut, your body giving up its last thread of resistance. hawks holds you up, fucking into you like a toy. “like my own personal onahole,” he murmurs against your skin. “all mine to fuck and breed.”

his words echo in the empty chamber of your brain. all his to fuck and breed. all his to fuck and breed. you’re lost in it, in the way the tip of his cock catches just slightly on the tiny hole of your cervix, the pain ever so slight. hawks fucks you like he’s just as lost in you, the warmth of your walls, the schlick, shlick or your arousal coating his cock. you’re dripping, and every time he glances down he can see the creamy white ring around the base of his dick. he groans, hips stuttering.

“cumming,” he warns you. “gonna take it like a good little girl? let me fill your virgin pussy with hot rapist cum, hm?” you nod pathetically, begging want it, please, lemme have it. and he does, groaning as he buries himself into you. he grinds in small circles as he fills you, as warmth shoots up into your welcoming womb. you’re crying, mewling, nails scratching the walls as he fills you over and over, stuffing you to the brim.

and then he pulls out, and you can feel his cum dripping out of you. “holy fuck,” you hear keigo whisper. “holy shit. you okay?”

“i can’t believe you sent a mugger after me,” are the first words out of your mouth.

“what the f— you think i—?”

“you’re telling me some rando actually almost mugged me?” you looked at him, delirium painting your face. “holy shit. what are the chances?”

he helps you along, pulling your panties back up and your dress over your hips, doing his best to clean you up before cupping your cheeks. “how was that? was that okay?” his eyes are so soft, filled with mirth and adoration, painted with a sheen of concern. “was it too much? you didn’t use your safeword, so i assumed—”

“it was good, kei,” you assure him, a soft smile on your lips. “except the mugger part. you’re really telling me i almost got mugged?”

“well i didn’t send a fuckin’ mugger just for this! i’m not gonna put your life in danger.” keigo strokes your cheek, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “and i’m sorry i didn’t come save you earlier. i called for back up the moment i saw him, and it all happened so fast—”

you laugh. genuine, hearty giggle, patting his hair soothingly. “not your fault. no wounds, so i’m okay.” you kiss him, softly, sweetly on the lips. “thanks. for that.”

“come on, princess,” he mutters against the soft skin of your fleshy thigh. “tell me what you want, yeah? i’ll give it to you, you know i will.” your legs are thrown over his bare shoulders, his hero suit shoved down his torso, green fabric pooling at his waist. even in his guiltiest pleasures he feels the need to give, give, give, never selfish enough to take what he really wants from you.

but that’s what you want. you want your selfless older brother to rid his inhibitions, stop worrying so much about other people. “take what you want,” you whine, conscious that his mother is sleeping in the next room, the thin walls criminally feeble in keeping your sounds away from her. “wan’ you- wan’ you to take control, izu.”

he’s scared. his fingers tremble as he laps at your cunt, sweet and precious and dripping for him. how did you two begin like this? was it the way you never seemed to believe he was as humble as he seemed, was it the way he admired how you saw him as your brother, nothing more? he’d fallen for you, the tentative steps you take when he’s home, the glass of water you grace him with when he’s had a long day, your sweet voice telling him, you’re home now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.

has he been pretending? maybe he is tired, tired of shouldering everyone’s burden, giving and never receiving. which is why you’re here in his big, big palms now, squirming under his tongue on your clit. the cogs in his mind are moving, steaming as he dives in for more, more, more than you can give him, but you try. you wrap your thighs around his head, back arching off the bed, “izu, izu fuck-- i’m gonna cum, gonna--!” and you gush all over him.

izuku doesn’t stop, doesnt even take a breather before his fingers are slipping into your drooling pussy. “take it, princess,” he’s murmuring, thick fingers, so much bigger than your own, pumping in and out of you at a pace that has your toes curling. you’ve never settled for any less since you two began this arrangement; you couldn’t, not with your pussy beat into the shape of him. now your fingers could never reach the spots he so easily could hit, your toys dwarfed by the sheer girth of his cock. you needed him, and he needed you, and so you take everything he gives you, you follow his lead and you give him all of you.

is this the first time someone’s laid down their life for him? is this the first time someone has fully trusted him, izuku, not deku, bared their soul in front of him to see? you’re giving all of yourself to him, youre devoting your body to his touches, and he’s so greedy. you taste so sweet, and he’s so greedy. tonight, for tonight, he keeps taking, keeps pushing orgasms out of you, keeps you creaming on his fingers.

this is the most powerful he’s ever felt.

you’re whining, head thrashing back in pure ecstasy as he brings you over, a third, a fourth time. your clit is aching, your belly in flames but you hold out, spreading your legs open when he asks you to. “gonna be good f’me?” he murmurs, forest green eyes sparkling as he looks up at you from where is he between your legs. you love him like this, you’ve decided, love how he’s taking the reigns, using your body the way he wants to, never stopping for a moment. “gonna let nii-chan use you? use your pussy how he wants?”

“mmhm, mmhm,” you’re whining as he pinches your clit. “please, zuku, wanna feel you--”

“patience, puppy. you take what i give you.” his voice is firm, traced with gentleness and kindling adoration. he wants to give you everything in the world. he wants to take everything you have. he gets up slowly, towering over your laid back figure as he shucks off the rest of his suit and crawls up until his knee presses against your cunt. you mewl, grinding against his flushed skin. “like that? my princess gonna ride my leg now?”

you shake your head vehemently, your arms reaching out to grasp at his shoulders. “no! no, want you inside, please, izuku, need you inside.” you pull him down towards you, crashing your lips together dazedly, tasting yourself in his mouth. you moan, licking at the salty taste, your hips canting against him again and again.

you’re giving him everything, he thinks as he presses his chest against yours, wrapping his thick arms around your torso. you’re giving everything and you want to.

izuku’s never been selfish. never thought of himself first; always what can i do to help others? how can i make them happy? and he stayed like that even after the day he met you. sweet, loving, innocent you, with glimmering eyes and adoration in your voice. maybe he was glad he didn’t have to perform in front of you, that your room to him was a safe space where he could lie down and not have to be a hero. where you cared for the boy who spent his life caring for others.

and so he takes. he feasts hungrily, hands dipping into your fleshy sides, gripping you like a lifeline as he lines his cock at your entrance. here, in your bedroom, on your sheets, he gets to be selfish. so hell if he’s going to hold himself back.

you bite back a scream as he bottoms out on you with one sharp thrust. izu’s big and fat and long and fills you up to the brim until you’re stuffed, bursting at the seams. “nii-chan,” you whimper as he lets you adjust, your breathing erratic next to his ear. “fuck, zuku, s’big, feels so good.” he props himself up on his elbow as he drags himself out and slams back in, other hand holding you steady as you yelp, back arching off the bed.

“shh, puppy.” you feel his fingers prod at your lips, pushing gently into your mouth and pressing against your tongue. “gotta stay quiet f’your big brother now, don’t wanna wake everybody up, do you?” you shake your head, lips wrapping around his thick fingers and coating them in your spit.

the slow drag of his hips has your head spinning, bucking your hips upward to meet him halfway. he chuckles, murmuring something about thought you wan’ed to be good for me, don’t get greedy. you whine in apology, invisible hands pinning you down on the bed in obedience. you’d rather die than disobey nii-chan, right? you’d do anything for him, spread your legs, take him over and over until he’s satisfied, right?

selfish, so fucking selfish. he’s almost guilty, heart wrenching in shame as he watches you writhe under him from the thick stretch of his massive cock. but he keeps taking, keeps kissing your tears away, keeps fucking into you because it’s all he knows how to do, all he knows is there for him at the end of the day no matter what happens. he’s found god in your cunt, his pace bruising and battering your walls over and over.

“good f’me, s’good for me.” he mutters over and over. “my pussy, right? this pussy belongs to me right?” he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, tracing spit-slick digits around your lips. “wanna hear you say it, baby. say it.”

“ah- y-yours, nii-chan-- fuck, all yours,” you whine, your nails making home in his broad back, crying rivers of red as you find purchase in the muscled skin. “take it, take all of it- please!”

how can he refuse? his hands come down to your hips, holding them up and steady as he pounds furiously into you, his cockhead ramming against your cervix with every brutal thrust. you’re sobbing, wailing and he has to plant his lips on yours to swallow your cries. when you open your eyes and meet his, his thick lashes are brimming with tears too, glassy over his pretty green eyes.

“d-don’t cry, zuku,” your hands trail up to cup his cheeks, thumbing away his tears. they’re warm and sting your hands. why is he crying? have you ever seen him cry? “don’t cry, don’t want you to cry.”

“s-sorry, princess,” he murmurs, burying his face in your neck. “i love you so much, t-thank you for letting me have you. s’good for me, you know? letting me take all of you like this whenever i want?”

“i love you too,” you hiccup, your hips beginning to ache from the position you’re holding them in, your pelvis definitely bruised from his thrusts, but you don’t care. as long as izuku’s here, you’re giving him all you have, no matter what it takes from you. “be greedy with me, take all-- fuck!-- you want. i’m yours, nii-chan, all yours!”

you feel his cock twitch inside you, telling tale about his oncoming orgasm. your own is building too, from the kindling flame in your belly. he’s hitting you in all the spots sweetest to you, pressing hard against your navel. you barely have enough in you to warn him before you’re cumming, gushing hard all over his abdomen. you squeal at the force of your orgasm, clutching hard at his shoulders as he leads you into oblivion and back.

he’s hushing you, pace not even slowing down as he chases his own high. “gonna cum, princess,” he murmurs against your neck. “gonna let me come in you? let me breed you, give you all my babies?”

you’re gasping for air, for consciousness, fucked into another realm now. he’s relentless, fucking deep and hard, but you pull yourself together for a moment long enough to nod weakly. “please,” you find yourself speaking. “wanna take it, wanna take your cum-- wan’ give you a baby.” you’re babbling at this point, not even conscious of what you’re saying, but his eyes widened at your words. wanna give me a baby? you’d dedicate yourself to him like that? tied down to him with child, his to love and spoil and come home to every night?

fuck, his head’s clouding over with the sheer thought of you swollen with his kid, raising a family with you. he loves you so, so much, wants to give you the world on a silver platter if you’d let him. and now you’re begging him to make you his, mark you with the ultimate price.

he cums with a sharp groan, burying himself to the hilt in you as he cums. it’s so much, rich, thick potent seed shooting straight into you, so much of it it’s leaking out the sides of his cock and dripping down your thighs. he fucks you through his own orgasm, not even caring about how sensitive his cock’s gone. he doesn’t care, just wants to take you over and over and over.

you whine when he doesnt stop moving in you. “izu, too sensitive, fuck--!” but he tunes you out, continues fucking you. his cum’s made his cock slip into you so much easier now, and your orgasm’s loosened you up, and he just can’t stop himself from moving. “i can’t stop moving my hips, princess, i-i’m sorry.” but he doesn’t sound sorry, not with his breathy whines and hearty moans. he kisses you so so sweet, makes you forgot about the ache in your thighs.

you mewl, scratching at the sheets as you cum again around his cock, your clit aching. but you don’t tell him to stop, never tell him to stop. how could you, when you’re the only thing he can take so freel? you’d rather die than take it away from him, so you let him overstimulate you and himself in your cunt, creaming around his thick cock as he murmurs, “one more, baby, give me one more. you can do it, can’t you? give nii-chan what he wants, princess, i know you can.”

he cums so much he’s shooting blanks into you now, whining at the overstimulation. when he finally, finally pulls out you’re dripping in cum, you cunt stuffed so full of him you swear you’re bulging. “thank you,” you whisper, cupping his cheek in your palm. his skin is so warm against you, and you feel sudden wetness as more tears fall from his lashes.

“no,” he murmurs against you, holding you so close to him. he’s burning hot, skin flushed and calloused but you find no greater heaven than in his arms, in his embrace, against him flaming skin to flaming skin. “thank you, baby. thank you so much.”

he asks himself this constantly. always in his head about you. it gets tiring sometimes, and he has the urge to put a hand around your throat and throttle you, press you up against a wall and kiss you until you’re breathless. you tempt him. you’re a temptress, calling on the higher powers to torment him, in your silky, sultry dresses and your slurred speech as you lean up against him during a frat party you all but dragged him to. “it’ll be fun, i promise,” you’d told him as he sat cross legged on your dorm bed watching you do your make up in front of your mirror. he’d been in there before, memorising the layout and sometimes even sneaking into your pantie drawer when you left him alone long enough to snoop around. he’s jerked off with it wrapped around the tip of his cock, fucked his hand with the crotch lined up to his nose. he’s fucking obsessed with you, always has been, always will be.

and now he’s got you slumping into his arms, not drunk but tipsy enough to be sleepy. it’s not his fault how much you trust him, how much you smile up at him, his frosty navy eyes softening just for you. you press your chest to his, humming softly. “you’re so handsome,” you comment to him, hand coming up to cradle his jaw. “so pretty, you know?”

and that’s when he decides; he’s going to fuck you, whether or not you like it.

it happens when you’re on your couch in your dorm room, watching a movie as you do every friday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap and the two of you pressed into each other’s sides. giyuu fucking hates touching people, even fleetingly, but it’s you. it’s you, your warm, soft palms that trace mindless circles into his thigh, dipping in and out of his lap for popcorn. he’s half-hard, the popcorn bowl a blessing to cover it up, but he isn’t sure how long he can tolerate his aching cock chafing against his cotton boxers.

and then he hears it. the notification sound he’s known for so long, grown to hate; the one that spells out that you’re seeing someone new. and you dare to answer it in front of him, dare to giggle at whatever pathetic text you just got. he chews the inside of his cheek and refocuses his attention on the movie, but you’re sighing and giggling and god you just piss him off. it should be him that you’re sharing those sounds over.

“what’s that?” he offers offhandedly, trying to sound as uninterested as possible.

“nothin’,” you smile brightly at him. “just some guy i met the other day.”

he chuckles dryly. “more interesting than the movie?”

“no! no, definitely not,” you laugh at him, nuzzling the top of your head into his side. “i’m paying attention. promise.”

but you keep checking your phone at regular intervals throughout the movie to a point where he’s annoyed. beyond annoyed, actually, and he’s moving before he can tell himself not to. shifts the popcorn bowl to the coffee table and plucks the phone out of your hands. you almost protest until you catch his gaze, and he’s looking at you with navy eyes that seem almost soulless. almost. there’s a fleck of desire in them, one you see when a predator finally, finally pins down their prey, seconds before they sink their teeth deep into the side of their neck. he’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you, and you can’t help the flicker of fear in your heart.

“giyuu?” you murmur quietly. “are you okay?”

“i don’t like you talking to other guys.” he says, simple as that, but with the pent up anger and frustration of months. “stop doing it.”

you laugh weakly. “whaddya mean? i just—”

“i mean,” he flings your phone to the floor, crowding you into the corner of the couch. “stop talking to other guys. you have me, don’t you? what more do you need?”

“giyuu, i don’t understand,” you frown. “we’re not— we’re not together, you can’t tell me to—”

“yes i can. and even if you don’t listen to me, i make sure it happens anyway.” he’s too close, way too close to you, his breath uncomfortably warm against your cheek. “i protect you from all these stupid guys, and you just keep bringing more back. you really wanna give me a hard time—”

“wait. wait, wait, wait.” the cogs are turning in your head, and your arms are scrambling to get yourself away from him. “it’s you? you’re the reason they stop talking to me?” your voice is treading on cracking eggshells, voice raising slowly. “what the fuck, giyuu, what do you think you’re doing?”

he frowns. “i’m protecting you,” he says simply, deadpanning as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “you don’t know the things they want with you, but i do. they’re all scum, all they want is to get in your pants. you shouldn’t talk to them—”

“that’s not for you to decide!” you’re yelling now, hands pushing against him to free yourself, but it’s no use. he’s stronger, heavier than you, and all it’s doing is making him press himself even closer to you. “you’re sick, you know that?”

“but you want me,” he whispers, and you’re silent. chills skitter down your spine. what? “you want me, i know you do. that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? why you’re always around me, trusting me?”

“i trust you because you’re my friend,” you whimper, but giyuu ignores you, hands coming up to fit around your hips. you try to wriggle out of his grasp but it’s no use. he’s got you pinned down where he wants you, warm fingers digging into your plush skin. “please, please—”

“please, what?” he dips his head down to lick the shell of your ear, pressing light kisses on the skin. “tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop. say it.”

you try. you do. you try to push the words out of your mouth, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper that makes your brain reel. did you want this, had you wanted this? it isn’t a secret that giyuu’s handsome, and you’re close to him because you like him, like the way he laughs and like the way he buys you coffee every morning before your lectures. you like him, but not in that way, not in the way he’s peeling off your shorts, dragging them down your thighs. but for the life of you, you can’t seem to stop him.

“see,” he smiles smugly. “i told you. you want me. you want this.”

and you can’t seem to deny it.

he presses open-mouthed kisses down your torso, and you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to muster up everything in your brain to decide; do you want this? do you want to stop this? and it clouds your mind so much you don’t even notice what he’s doing until you feel something cold, icy on your skin. your eyes fly open.

“what the fuck—”

“shh,” he presses his switchblade against the lace of your panties, watching in glee as it rips, seam by seam. “let it happen, baby. let it happen.”

why can’t you say anything? why can’t you manage anything more than a small whine, why can’t you decide if you want this? and more importantly, why are your toes curling, your belly tightening at the dangerous feeling of his skilled fingers digging this delicate blade into your skin? you cover your mouth with your hands, pressing your palms tightly to your lips, denying any sound to escape.

your panties are in shreds when he’s done, his fingers slowly peeling it off your hips. “they were pretty,” he murmurs, peering at you through his lashes. “i’ll get you more. cut right through them again and again. i know you like it.”

and you shake your head vehemently, i don’t! i don’t, on the tip of your tongue until he dips a digit between your folds. “don’t lie to me,” he tuts. “you’re soaked. fucking slut, getting off on a knife?”

his fingers push into you with an ease you regret, fucking you open on thick digits that curl expertly against your gummy walls. how— when did he learn to—? thoughts die on your tongue as he knocks against your gspot, smiling cruelly as you gasp, bucking up into his hand. “see? i told you. i know you better than you know yourself, princess.”

you wanna wrap your hands around his throat to shut him up, tell him that he’s wrong but you can’t. he’s reduced you to a puddle of tears on his fingers, whining loudly every time he crooks his fingers just the right way. is he wrong? are you? you’re gasping, mumbling obscenities into the cold night air, and he juts his fingers to curve along your chin, forcing you to look at him. you can't deny the small whimper that escapes when he does that; the genuine concern in his eyes throws you way off. you think he’s being evil, touches thorned and poisoned with malice, but it’s not. he’s actually so in love with you. he actually wants you to feel good, forcing intimacy down your throat, wanting you to forget every guy who came before, killing any chance of any guy coming after.

“gonna cum?” he murmurs, but you don’t need to speak to answer. your walls are clenching and you feel like you’re about to pass out from the pressure in your belly, begging you to just let go. “i want you to. want you to cum all over me. you can do that can’t you?”

“yeah,” you whisper instinctively, before eyes widening and rearing back. did you really just answer him? did you really just gratify his actions, this sick situation with an answer? he smiles, nuzzling his face into the crook where your neck meets your shoulder, fingers pumping in and out of you with lewd squelches. you can't help it, can’t hold back when you cum, a strangled, broken sound coming from your throat as his fingers push you over the edge and into your blinding orgasm. you cum hard, eyes squeezing shut, small whispers of, “fuck, fuck, giyuu—” filling the air between you two.

“there,” he kisses your forehead, warm lips making you shiver. “told you you’d like it. you came so hard around my fingers, princess.” he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking your nectar clean off. “wanna taste?”

you think he’s done. you breathe, finally relax in his arms, softly whimpering and pawing at his shoulders so he can let you go, but he doesn't budge. “you didn’t think i was done, did you, sweetheart?” his brows furrow. “come on. i haven’t even got my dick wet yet.”

what? you don’t even register how he pulls down his sweats, pushing down his boxers together with it before stroking his aching cock. it flushes red, hot to the touch, the tip oozing precum and he rubs it against your cum soaked folds. “yeah? tell me you don’t want it,” he says again, kneeling down right in front of your abused pussy. “tell me and i’ll leave. i swear.”

silence.

you can’t say anything. can’t move, frozen in a liminal space between confusion and need. you’re brainless, not thinking anymore. your tongue feels like mush, your mouth feels dry.

and finally, out comes a small, whimpered, “please.”

please what? please stop? please fuck me? please get off me? please never leave? you don’t know what you want, thoughts swirling in your head, the only thing coherent is the way he’s pulling your legs, lifting your hips so you lie closer to him, his cock bumping against your clit. you mewl softly, clutching the rough sofa sheets under you, bumping your hips up to meet his in silent submission. did you want this? you couldn’t deny that your body is acting out of its own accord, but did you really want this?

“i got you. i got you, baby,” he whispers, holding your hips gently as he crowds his cock against your slit, its fat tip rubbing against the slick. it takes a little time to push into you and a lot of strength on his part not to just shove himself in and ruin you on the spot. he’s gripping your thighs with one hand, the other feeding his cock into your weeping hole, watching how you swallow him slowly. “fuck, you’re— holy shit you’re tight,” he mutters, smoothing the skin of your thigh with his hand. “you okay?”

you nod. or you don’t. you’re not sure where you are or what you are anymore. you bump your hips up, groaning as his cock sinks just a couple more inches into you, back arching into his touch. and then he’s pushing, crowding himself into you until he’s out of breath, your tight walls wet and drooling around him. you clench the sheets in your fingers until your skin over your knuckles are taut, watching his careful movements grow restless, grow wild, grow primal. he’s fucking into you like a toy, only glancing at you with soft coos, asking if you’re alright.

“please,” is all you can say again. he smiles, a tiny quirk of his lips. and then he’s fidgeting with something in his hand, something glinting silver and gleaming. something he presses into your thigh, cold and terrifying. the switchblade, you remember, your throat dry, feeling the sharp edge dig into your skin.

is he— are you— what is he doing? “for you, to remember,” he’s murmuring, his thrusts slowing down to slow, sensual grinds into your cunt, cockhead kissing your cervix. his fingers are so thick, skilful, wrapping around the hilt of the blade. he’s pressing the flat edge against your navel. “are you gonna be good?” his voice is so soft that if it were any other circumstance you would have thought it was sweet. “or do i have to make you remember?”

“r’mber what?” you ask, eyes hazy.

“that you’re mine,” he dips his head low to catch your lips in a quick kiss. “and that you don’t need anyone else but me. that you belong to no one else but me.”

terror seizes you. strikes your heart and burns your lungs. “wha— what? no, i thought— this isn’t—”

“looks like baby girl needs reminding,” he tuts, and then you gasp— what at? it takes you a second to realise—

fuck. what the fuck.

his blade makes contact with the skin on your thigh, the sharp edge digging dangerously into your flesh. your eyes widen, mouth parting to gasp, no, no, stop, what are you— when he’s dragging the blade down your thigh in a pattern. in a ‘G’, in possession, like he’s branding you. the pain isn’t bad, just stings, but your eyes grow cloudy with tears anyway.

“you’re mine,” he whispers once he’s done. he swipes a finger over your wound, collecting a drop of blood on his fingertips before licking it. he hums. “sweet. just like i knew you would be.”

you’re terrified. you’re shaking, brain short circuiting, not even registering that his thrusts have resumed pace. he’s letting out short breaths with every thrust, small whispers of encouragement. but it’s all lost to you.

“are you listening to me?”

no. i can’t hear anything.

you feel the icy surface of the blade against your throat. it’s cool, the metal reflecting the lamplight into your eyes. you start to scream, but he hushes you. “don’t worry,” he murmurs. “i won’t hurt you. not here. i just think you look so very pretty with a knife to your throat.”

“you’re insane,” you choke out a whisper.

“maybe,” he smiles. “but you like it, don’t you?”

when eren’s dad married your mom the only thing you could think was how dashingly handsome he was, and how much shit you were going to have to put up with when he inevitably starts bringing home girls. what you don’t know, though, is that there was so much more behind his jaded emerald eyes, and as you would come to learn in the following years, he only showed it to you.

you were insistent you could handle yourself, brushing him off with a “i’m a big girl, i can take it.” the first time he hears you say it his brain short circuits- he almost forgets to react when you skate headfirst into a tree, tripping off the board and skidding your knee. he chastises you for not paying attention, now you’ve got a bunch of cuts and you huff. you turn your face away from his, concern carved into his gentle smile, and ignore the way his hands burn your skin when he helps you up.

“i’m a big girl, i can take it,” you tell him, and he nods like he knows. it begins to be something you say regularly.

he teaches you how to drive, how to parallel park without touching bumpers with the other cars. he laughs when you mount a curb, offering to take the wheel. “no,” you whack his hand away. “i’m a big girl, i can take it.”

he sits on your bed while you get ready for your first date. he’s walking you out the door to your beau, reminding you of your curfew and that if the guy even laid a hand on you, call him and he’d beat the shit out of him, no questions asked. you laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder, and tell him, “i’ll be fine! i’m a big girl, i can take it.”

he watches as you come home, date after date, huffing as you take off your shoes to rub your developing blisters. he sits on the couch, feigning nonchalance as he asks you how it went. judging by your mood, he already knows.

“went like shit. i don’t know why i keep going on these stupid dates.”

“i don’t know either. you have the worst taste in men,” he chuckles, petting the seat next to him.

“you’re one to talk. when was the last time you went on a date?” you glare at him playfully, plopping yourself on the loveseat next to him, cuddling up to his side as white noise pours from the tv.

he doesn’t have the guts to tell you he hasn’t been on any in months, doesn’t dare tell you that it’s because of you, your fruity perfume, your perfect body in your perfect little dresses. he doesn’t dare admit he thinks of his little sister that way, so he changes the subject.

“i’ll go on one when you can find a man who doesn’t treat you like shit.” his voice is far away, carried by twitching thoughts and the sensation of your head on his shoulder.

you snort. “you don’t need to worry about me. i’m a big girl, i can take it.”

he wonders if you know what it does to him when you say that.

he finds out a couple weeks later when you knock on the door of his room while he’s smoking, hazy clouds drifting out the window as he lays in his bed, another night just thinking of you and what you’d feel like in his burning hands. he imagines you’d be just as stubborn as you are day to day, and he imagines your words when he’s balls deep inside you.

he hears you knock and scrambles to hide his joint. he doesn’t know why, it’s not like you can’t smell it from the outside. he lets you in, and you plop down on his bed, annoyance clear on your face.

“don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble. “i know youre smoking. i can smell it from outside.”

he almost laughs, but instead he’s surprised when you continue with, “i wanna try it.”

his eyebrows raise, and he looks at your skeptical. “are you sure? i don’t think-”

your famous words. “i’m a big girl, eren. i can take it.”

so he lets you. and he teaches you how to inhale it, and you choke on the smoke. he offers you water, and you take it graciously. “how about you shotgun it for now?” he murmurs.

you look at him with curious eyes and nod, and he takes your chin in his hands. your skin is so soft in his grasp, and he wants to touch you anywhere, everywhere else. he blows smoke into your mouth, and you let it consume you; the warmth, the smoky taste, eren’s eyes burning into yours as your hands curl into fists in his shirt. you stay like that for a minute, lips centimeters apart, and you think your step brother has never looked so good before.

so you kiss him. you kiss him and you can taste the joint in his mouth, you can feel his burning hands that slip between your thighs and tease flittingly at your silk shorts. you whimper into his mouth and he drinks it all up, how pliable you’ve become in his hands, and he wonders if you’ve thought of him the way he thinks of you.

you answer him, as if you could read his thoughts, when you pull back and whisper, “need you.”

and now he’s got you under him, panties pushed haphazardly to the side, rocking into your tight cunt. fuck, you’re so wet for him, so warm and it’s everything he’s ever imagined and more. you’re struggling to take him in his entirety, small hands coming down to push him away, babbling, ‘’ren, too much, i can’t-”

he cuts you off with a huffy laugh. “can’t take it? where’s my big girl?” he asks, voice mocking your words. your eyes roll back, remembering your mantra. “i’m sure she can take it, can’t she?”

“fuck, ‘ren,” you whine as he pushes deeper into you, hitting spots you never knew existed, his plush cockhead bumping your cervix. “you’re so- s’big in me. make me take it, please, i can take it.”

eren wavers. he wants to savour this, all he’s dreamt about and more, but he also wants to hike your ankles over his shoulder and fuck your brains out. he wants to be gentle, but god, you’re tantalising in his touch, you’re perfect in every way. and so he fucks you the way you ask him to, as slow or as fast as you want him to go.

he decides he can’t let this go, can’t let anyone else touch you the way he’s doing now. he won’t let you let anyone near your pillowy cunt, touch your puffy nipples like he does. he fucks with your head, leaning down to your ear to whisper, “my good girl, yeah? my good little sister taking her big brother’s cock so well, so good for me. t-the only one who makes me feel like this...”

and you're so innocent, so lovely with your pink frilly skirts and shirts that are cropped a little too short and reiner glares at every guy who even looks your way, and porco soothes you by saying, "they're no good for you, princess, and you already have me and rei." and you nod, little dumb you, because they're your big brothers, they must know what's best for you right? and when you cry, reiner kisses your tears away, saying "this is for your own good, princess. what are you gonna do without us?"

reiner helps you with homework, big strong brother who's so smart and knows best for you. porco blocks every guy on your phone because he's just looking out for you and knows best for you. reiner flips your skirt up and kisses your pretty pretty pussy because he wanst you to feel good and knows best for you. porco tears you open on his fat cock, murmuring about how much your ass was showing in that pair of shorts, you must have been asking for it, right?

on god, u love when they have you on their bed, panties stuffed in your mouth and they're taking turns splitting you open, like it's a competition to see who can you cum the most. porco's pounding into your pussy so fucking hard, stretching you to your limits while reiner sits back and watches, cock hard and aching in his hand. he wants to kiss your tears away but he doesn't get to touch you when it's porco's turn.

"you like this, don't you?" porco grunts in your ear, his arm hooked under your thigh so he can angle himself deeper into you. "you like when i punish you. it's like you whore yourself out just so i fuck you this hard, don't you?"

you whine, shaking your head. tears are streaming down your face, burning hot rivers down your cheek and he just laughs. "why are you crying? doesn't mean shit, baby, you know it only makes me wanna fuck you harder." your eyes dart over to reiner, who's looking at you with the softest eyes but can't do anything to help you.

"gotta listen to him, princess," he says, leaning over to press a kiss to your temple. "make him happy and then it's my turn, and you know i only wanna make you smile, right? gonna make my little princess happy?"

"shut up," porco shoves him. "she's mine. wait your turn, fat ass."

you can't help the small laugh that bubbles in your throat, but it dies, twisting into a whine when porco's fingers come down to rub on your clit harshly. "what a sloppy pussy," he grunts. "made f'me, hm? made for me to ruin, stuff full of my cum?"

n you nod, gasping at the burning pit on your abdomen that begins to grow with every thrust in. the fabric falls out of your mouth as your mouth gapes open, and your whines are fair game for everyone to hear. "please, please pock, wanna cum, make me cum--"

"you got it, baby," he murmurs, lips against your ear. "gonna make you cum so hard you forget all about reiner, how about that?"

he pushes you into your release, your walls fluttering pathetically around his fat cock, milking it for all it's worth. he groans, hips stuttering in you before he cums all in you, hot and thick and you feel so goddamn full even after he pulls out. you're barely there, only conscious enough to hear porco say, "there you go. good girl. go get my sloppy seconds reiner."

and you feel reiner hover over you, fingers gentle on your abused cunt, murmuring about how pretty you look braindead and fucked out on his silk sheets. "princess? you there?" he kisses you, lips warm and soft and you whimper in response, arms coming up to hold him close to you. he knows you, knows what you need, so when he slides himself into you he holds you so close to him, praising you, "look how good you take me, princess! so soft and warm, fuck, you're so good for me, yeah?" his cock is bigger than porco's (honestly your favourite out of the two, but you'll never admit it) longer and reaches so deep in you you swear you feel him in your tummy. "your big brother's here now, gonna make you feel so good, okay?"

and your cries have turn into mindless babble and soft gasps as he fucks you so gently yet so hard, burying himself to the hilt with every thrust, your pathetic pussy stretched to its limits. "s'good, nii-chan," you whisper. "you feel so nice, want more."

"more? you sure you can take it?" he cups your cheek with one big palm.

"mmhm! please, fuck me faster?" you smile at him, and out of the corner of your eye you catch porco sneering at the two of you. but reiner's kiss on your lips makes you forget it, before picking up his pace until you're falling apart on his cock. "i- nii-chan, fuck, i'm gonna, gonna--!"

"cum for me, princess," he grunts, pressing his forehead to yours. "wanna make you feel good, wanna cum in your pussy. you're gonna let me do that right? gonna let me stuff your pretty pussy full of my cum? let me breed you?"

"yes, yes! please, wan' it," you're slurring your words now, fucked out and pliant, taking reiner in all his glory without a complaint. you're so close, so close-- and the moment reiner puts his fingers on your clit you're gushing, whines dripping from your lips like honey. you cum all over reiner's abdomen, nectar staining his sheets and he gapes at you, pushed over into his own orgasm, cumming in you in thick loads. he's's pumping you full and you take it all, his cum mixed with porco's, the two of them leaving you stuffed full.

"i made her squirt," you hear reiner tease porco. "do better, pock."