𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst. slight fluff. eventual smut. dark content
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: clan head gojo! x reader. heavy nsfw themes. arranged marriage, toxic family/clan dynamics, childhood isolation, misogyny, discussion/implied instances of sexual coercion, reproductive coercion, forced pregnancy themes, abusive relationships, manipulation, physical and emotional abuse, violence/blood, possessiveness, canon-divergent jujutsu society au, gojo isn’t a giant pos for once yay, and eventual explicit sexual content.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: satoru was raised believing that one day you would come and end his loneliness. you were raised knowing that marriage was how powerful families took their daughters away. after eighteen years of being promised to one another, he must prove that he does not want to own you—he wants you to choose him.
(18+) ONE SHOT! ✩‧₊˚ not edited or beta read, frat!eren x fem!reader, college au, dom!eren, innocent reader, fingering, piv, loss of virginity, heavy corruption kink, making out, ELEMENTS OF COERCION, DUBIOUS CONSENT, size kink, dacryphilia, slight stalking, lovebombing, unprotected sex, mention of drinking & drugs, manipulation, eren is genuinely a freak of nature in this
summary: eren starts plotting on a new girl
words: 9k
author's note: please read the tags before you start and i suggest if any of them bother you then you shouldn't read this. anyway, hope you guys like! went a bit out of my comfort zone for this content wise bc i wanted to try something new but i had fun!!!!!
The first time that Eren Yeager saw you was across the room of a party in his frat house.
You were talking to his friend Sasha, carrying a red solo cup that barely had been touched, the contents almost spilling off the rim when you leaned over to whisper something in Sasha’s ear. Eren had a girl on his arm already, some brunette from a sorority that he couldn’t quite remember due to him being incredibly crossfaded. She was going on and on about something, but he wasn’t listening, his eyes were focused on you. The low cut top that you were wearing was familiar, he’d seen it before on Sasha a few weeks ago.
It made him wonder why you weren’t wearing your own top instead. Did you not have one? Were you not the type to spend your Friday nights at parties? What did you prefer to do instead?
Maybe it was because he was so high out of his mind that he fixated on you, or maybe it was because you looked so painfully out of place that your presence was just enough to cut through the chaos all around the room. The Acacia house was loud enough that the floorboards were vibrating, bass rattling the picture frames of previous classes of the frat that somehow seemed to survive years of partying.
The living room was completely crowded, students crammed shoulder-to-shoulder yelling over each other while simultaneously sloshing beer onto the already sticky hardwood floor. Everything about this was normal, he was used to the chaos and the parties and the girls that threw themselves at him.
You looked like you wandered into the wrong building.
Eren could see it in the way that you kept apologizing to every single person who bumped into you, stepping aside so that they were let past while holding onto Sasha’s arm to keep yourself close to her like an anchor.
“You even listening to me or what?” the brunette next to him, acrylic nails pinching his bicep to get his attention. “Hellooooo?”
Eren looked down at her. “Hm?”
“My god,” she said, rolling her eyes and looking towards where he had been staring at you. “That’s your next victim? You bored of me already?”
He laughed under his breath, turning to look at you again. He barely knew this girl and she was trying to vie for his attention like he was dating her? It was annoying, it was tacky, and it was very irritating to his psyche. “You’re unbelievable.”
“She’s not your type,” the girl commented. “She looks . . . sweet.”
“Who the fuck are you to think you have the right to tell me what my type is and isn’t?” Eren deflected, not caring if he was sounding like an asshole.
The brunette groaned, reaching up to put her perfectly manicured hand along his face. “What I’m trying to say is that you need someone like me, baby.” Eren caught her wrist before his palm could even cup his cheek fully, peeling it away with little to no effort.
“I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”
Her smile faltered. “You’ve literally been flirting with me all night.”
“So?”
She let out a short laugh, the answer painfully obvious. “So I figured we were going somewhere to have some alone time.”
“Nah.”
“ . . . You’re serious?”
Eren groaned, throwing his head back. Why were girls so difficult? This is why he hated spending so much time with them when he wasn’t fucking them, cause they got so up in their head about what he should do and what he actually wanted to do. Eren hated feeling out of control, he much preferred being the one in control, dictating what happened and when it happened. “Just go away before I get annoyed,” he said, holding back a biting tone so he could avoid getting a drink thrown at him.
The girl scoffed, grabbing her drink from the table beside them. “Fine, go talk to your innocent girlfriend over there. Your friend was hotter anyway.”
The moment she was gone, already hanging onto one of his frat brothers near the doorway to the kitchen, Jean materialized beside Eren with a beer in each hand. He offered one to Eren which he took gladly, taking a big gulp as if it could get rid of the annoyance he had during that entire conversation.
“That looked like it was painful,” Jean said, leaning closer so Eren could hear him. “What’d she say?”
Eren didn’t answer, focusing entirely on you instead of everything around him. He watched you accept another drink from Sasha which you began to gulp, most likely water, you didn’t seem like the type of gulp down a beer. It somewhat annoyed him, you had barely even touched your actual drink and now you were drinking water like the beer had somehow tainted you.
Jean followed Eren’s line of sight, landing on you. “Leave that one alone.”
“Why?” Eren asked with a smirk. “You don’t trust me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Eren barked out a laugh, lifting the solo cup to his lips again. “Why does everyone think that I’m the devil when it comes to women?”
“Because you’ve earned that reputation about what . . . forty times?”
“Forty four,” Eren corrected. “I just like to have fun.”
“My point exactly, you’re a walking condom ad. She’s definitely not looking for whatever it is you usually offer,” Jean said, gesturing with his cup towards you. “You’d eat her alive. And from the looks of it, Sasha’s adopted her. She’ll kill you.”
Eren couldn’t quite explain why he kept looking at you, why you’d caught his attention so much when there were so many girls here that wanted him. He’d had no trouble centering his attention on a girl before and taking them upstairs before coming back down and finding another one to plot on later. There were dozens of girls that were dressed here specifically to be noticed. It was a game, one that Eren had played for the past two years. Every single person fell into some type of role in his game.
Yet you refused to.
It bothered him.
He felt the need to break whatever good girl persona you had. Eren wanted to peel those layers back and bring light to the raw and visceral truth of who you were when you were alone with just him. Everyone always cracked eventually with him, like the girls who swore they didn’t do one night stands until they were pushing him onto his own bed, or the ones who claimed they hated frat boys that laughed at his jokes.
“I don’t think she knows who I am,” Eren stated, looking down at his half empty drink. He raised it up and drank the remaining liquid, crushing the solo cup in his hands and throwing it behind his shoulder. “I’m gonna go introduce myself.”
The closer Eren got to you, the more precious he thought you were. You looked like a deer in headlights, looking for the next moment where you could slip away. Sasha had definitely dragged you here, adopting a freshman who desperately needed a friend. This was going to be so easy. And even better, Sasha got into a conversation with someone else, leaving you alone against the wall.
“Hey,” Eren said to you, already invading your space not in a dominating way, it was commanding. Commanding your attention to sit only on him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”
You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your face. He was cute, he knew that you thought he was cute from the way your pupils dilated under the faint light. You told him your name, in such a sweet tone he would swoon if he had the ability to do so. He nodded, saying your name again under his breath like a promise, a small claim.
Eren motioned around the party with his solo cup. “First party?”
“Uh, yeah,” you said, having to tilt your head up to make eye contact. “I’m a freshman.”
A freshman. Eren had officially found his next girl to plot on.
He put on a charming smile. “Well, welcome to college then. I’m a senior.”
“Do you know Sasha?” You asked, motioning towards your friend. “She’s my sorority sister.”
He glanced over at Sasha despite knowing exactly how far away she was from you, making sure that he was playing the good savior keeping you company at a party instead of a predator trying to catch prey. “Yeah, she’s friends with one of the guys in my frat.” His eyes never left you, trying to gauge how you felt about him being a part of a frat, if he was able to keep you from thinking he was part of the stereotype that he for sure was.
But you didn’t think anything of it, taking a small, tentative sip of your drink. “Cool. I guess that means you’re safe then.”
Eren feigned confusion, cocking his head to the side to really sell it. “Safe? Is something unsafe?”
You gave a quick tentative laugh, eyes looking around the crowd in the room. “I was told that most guys in frats shouldn’t be trusted. That they just play with girls.”
“Oh, I know what you mean. Those guys can be real assholes. You gotta watch out for them,” he said. You were making this so easy for him he almost wondered if all of this was some big joke you were playing. But the look in your eyes was genuine, happy that he was acknowledging your fear and twisting it in a way that made him look like your savior.
You still seemed guarded though, holding onto that drink for dear life. It would take more than just seductive eyes and flirting to get to you. Which was fine, Eren liked the long game. It was so much fun to play with a toy first before it inevitably got broken. You were so cute, all wide eyed and flushed, the smell of your cherry lotion emanating from your sweaty skin.
He had this way of sanding down the edges of a person until they were malleable and easier to handle. Some took longer than others, the girls who spent more time in the library compared to out at the clubs. Some were ready after a few honeyed words. He wondered what you would end up being. Eren was eager to find out.
So, like the gracious host he was, he asked you questions about yourself. He wanted to know every single detail of your life so he knew just how to poke and prod at the cracks in your demeanor. Soon enough he would know everything about you, even the stuff that you didn’t want him to know. It would just take time.
Eren decided right then and there that he had all the time in the world.
Setting the trap was easy. It was the ‘making it seem as though you were the one calling all the shots’ that was hard. Especially with someone like you that seemed timid to begin with. He was doing you a favor, he didn’t want you to stumble into something with a person who would just exploit you. You were too sweet and kind for that, you deserved someone who was devoted to you, not someone who wanted to take advantage.
He knew what was best for you.
Finding your schedule was the first thing on his list. Armin was the one to help with that. He worked in the student center, the place where they kept all the records on a computer of every single student so that they could track their graduation progress. Eren already knew your full name, you told him willingly, and with enough convincing, Armin searched for your records despite something in his gut telling him that it was wrong.
“Why do you care this much anyway?” Armin said, scrolling through the long list of names in the freshman class. “You could just ask Sasha for her number.”
Eren hovered over Armin’s shoulder, staring at the screen. “I don’t want to deal with her asking too many questions.”
If Sasha knew that he was interested in you, she would scare you away from him. She’d make up lies about how he was a playboy (which he was) and that he would only try to take advantage of you (which he was). It would be terribly inconvenient for him, and there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be able to reel you back in. Some things were easy to come back from — that wasn’t.
Armin clicked on your name and printed out your schedule, reaching to grab the piece of paper from the printer. Before Eren could take it, Armin kept it close to his chest, purposely avoiding giving it to his friend. “Promise me you’re not being weird?”
“Of course not, ‘Min,” Eren said with practiced ease. “I just want to get her number, I forgot to at the party and she was really cool.”
It never took that much to convince Armin, especially since they had been friends for so long. All he had to do was put on that boyish charm he kept for his friends to convince them to give into whatever he really wanted. He wasn’t in the business of exploiting his friends, but he could do it on rare occasions when he knew it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. This was one of those scenarios.
The blonde relented, handing the paper to him. Eren barely uttered a word of goodbye before he was walking out the door, eyes scanning the document to see where you were on campus.
He waited outside of the building you were in, checking the time on his phone waiting till the hour was up for classes and people would be spilling out of buildings. He was determined to find you before you were able to walk away. Though, it didn’t really matter since he knew exactly where you would be going anyway. But Eren didn’t want to have to wait another hour if he could help it, he would if he had to. He’d already decided he would do anything for you.
Just like clockwork, five minutes after the ‘passing period’ you were walking out the door, dressed in a pleated skirt and a blouse that covered up more than the shirt you had been wearing at the party.
He made his way from under the tree he was leaning against and walked on the opposite side of the sidewalk from you, a few paces in front so you wouldn’t be able to see him at first. You were looking down at your phone, scrolling the screen, none the wiser to what he was about to do.
The second you almost passed him, Eren purposely swayed a bit to the side, his shoulder grazing your own.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” You said, stepping out of the sidewalk to stand and look at who you accidentally bumped into. “It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” The second your eyes met his, a flicker of recognition in your gaze. Perfect. “Eren, right? From the party?”
Eren pretended he didn’t know you for about five seconds, waiting until he saw a faint twinge of hurt in your eyes at the idea of him not remembering you. Then he gave a lazy smile, nodding his head, faint strands of brown hair falling across his temples. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said, stepping closer. “How’re you doin’?”
“What a coincidence,” you said, glancing at the clock on your phone. You frowned, knowing you had to get to class and wouldn’t be able to spend that much time talking to him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the party, remembering how nice he had been to you, entertaining you while Sasha was out doing her own thing. “I have to go to my class . . .”
“I’ll walk you,” Eren said, a bit too forward. But he used it to his advantage, putting his hand on the back of his neck to pretend he was embarrassed about being eager. You gave him an endearing look. “I don’t have classes for the rest of the day anyway. Where are you heading?”
Altgeld Hall. Room 219 with Professor Stein. Eren already memorized it.
But he couldn’t let you know that he knew already, the paper with your schedule shoved into his jean pocket.
“Sure, that’d be great,” you said, leading him back into the flow of walking traffic to walk to the hall. “You sure it’s not too out of your way?”
Eren shook his head. “No, I wanna see how you are anyway. Y’know, when we’re not shouting at each other over the music in some dingy frat house.” He walked so close to you that your arms were touching, which he played off as trying to give the other people on the sidewalk more room. You weren’t pulling away, you wanted to be close to him. The idea that a senior was giving you this much attention, not trying to get into your pants, was refreshing.
You were glad you didn’t have to worry about Eren.
To be truthful, the first few weeks of your freshman year in college had been really hard. You missed being home with your parents, but you also loved the freedom. You lived pretty far away from where your college was, leaving what you knew best. It was what made you want to join a sorority so that you could have friends outside of classes. You liked most of your sorority sisters, especially Sasha, who was your designated ‘big sister.’
Having someone other than the girls in your sorority like Eren was nice. He was older, he knew what he was doing and he felt so confident walking through campus. It inspired you to be more bold, even if you still couldn’t get the courage to do it thoroughly yet.
“You know, you should come over sometime,” Eren said once both of you got closer to where you needed to go. He had to plant the seeds that he wanted to see you again. “Only if you want . . .” In any normal time, this type of behavior would earn him the title of ‘simp’ but he simply knew it would get the job done faster than him trying to force connection out of you.
You handed him your phone, open to the contacts app. “I’ll text you?” Eren had to physically stop himself from grabbing it too fast. Instead, he took it slow, making direct eye contact. His fingers brushed against your own, prolonging the tiny amount of touch.
He reveled in the blush that coated your cheeks, a dark, burnt crimson color that was a direct spark to his already large ego.
The second on his list was possibly the most important one — lovebombing.
Eren had unintentionally done this for a number of years before it had some fancy social media term, and most of the time he hadn’t known that he was doing it. Lovebombing was a science, and Eren was a straight A student. It was a delicious back and forth, a game of cat and mouse. He was always the cat, even when he was pretending to be your mouse.
He would text you so many times throughout the day. Good morning texts, asking about your morning classes, sending selfies, forcing you to play eight ball on imessage games. He’d make sure to ask you how your day was and send apple pay money for you to get yourself a coffee on him from time to time. It didn’t take long for you to get so codependent on his texts that you were waiting by the phone, faced up and ringer on for the next time that he would text you. Some days he always replied within five to ten minutes, no matter what he was doing. And other days he would wait two hours.
You couldn’t help but get a little frustrated when he did this because why was he so hot and cold with you? It only made you more desperate for his approval, sending him pictures of you during your day. One time you sent him a selfie and you were flustered for two hours when he responded that you were so gorgeous.
Subtly, he shifted his requests for pictures, wanting to see your outfit you put on in the morning. His eyes would scan your legs, analyzing every inch of skin that he could and remembering in detail. You had no idea that he would palm at his dick whenever you sent those pictures, making him cringe at just how much he was obsessed with you. Eren didn’t text you for two days after that. He couldn’t have you thinking that you had any power over him.
Then, at the end of the two days, he laid his final trap.
eren yeager: hey, u wanna come to a party at my frat tn?
eren yeager: ok if no, just thinkin of u
Only two minutes passed by before you texted back, saying that you were already going with your sorority sisters.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Eren found you standing near the kitchen of the frat house, leaning against one of the kitchen counters nursing your drink. You were actually sipping more than you did last time since you had a long week. You had barely gotten through one of the English papers you needed to write before the end of the weekend. He stood tall, walking a bit closer to look down at you, strands of his manbun falling out of the front onto his forehead slick with sweat.
“Hey, there you are,” he said to you in greeting, not giving you much space by stepping closer enough to be almost breaching your personal bubble. He could smell that same cherry smell emanating from you underneath the stench of cheap beer and the weed that the stoners were smoking out back. Eren rested one of his hands on the counter behind you, caging you in between his body and the marble.
He was wearing a dark compression shirt today with a black leather jacket open at the front with jeans. Eren today had decided to sport rings on his fingers, which matched the necklace that held a singular gold key at the end of it.
You smiled so big when you saw him. “Eren! Hi.”
Eren smirked wide at your reaction, he could practically smell the nervous energy you had before dissipating into a calm sense of relaxation when you spotted him. You still shrunk under his gaze, obviously affected by the sheer proximity of him. He forgot how shy you were when it wasn’t behind a phone, but it wasn’t a sign for him to back off tonight, he had put so much work into making you trust him — he considered it an invitation.
“You’re adorable when you’re nervous,” he said, having to lean down in order for you to hear it over the music. “This is way too crowded for a girl like you, yeah? Why don’t you let me show you around the house?” He reached out with his free hand to take the cup in your hand, the coolness of his rings brushing against your skin. He took a long sip from it, never breaking eye contact.
“Are you sure?” You asked with genuine, looking around at the crowd. “I don’t want to keep you from your party.” It felt like you were taking him away from what he actually thought was fun to talk to you and make you feel comfortable, he didn’t have to do that, he must be trying to be nice.
Eren chuckled deep within his chest at your words. “You’re too sweet for your own good, the party runs itself without me,” he murmured, smirk softening into something a bit more dangerous. He didn’t pull away from you; instead he closed the remaining distance with his thigh brushing against yours. “It’s too loud in here and way too hot. We can go upstairs where it’s quieter so we can hear ourselves think.” He tilted his head towards the stairs leading to the top floor, waiting to see if you would follow his lead.
You walked behind him, a few shoulders bumping into your own as you walked close. Eren was tall enough that you could spot him within a crowd with ease, his hand brushing against yours to keep you close and lead you up the stairs. A few guys near the stairwell looked at you with leering stares and knowing grins, knowing that you had no idea you were walking up with one of the most notorious playboys on campus. Most girls threw themselves at Eren Yeager and fought each other for his attention, but he was the one pursuing you.
He pushed the door open to his room, a mess of posters spewed across the walls. It was surprisingly clean for a college frat boy, almost as if he was planning it. Dark sheets were across his bed, moonlight spilling onto the oak floors and the room smelled like sandalwood and him.
“Definitely more quiet,” you said, walking further into his space. Your eyes scanned over his desk with a macbook and various textbooks. “I never asked you . . . what’s your major?” You turned back to him, his hand pushing against the door to close it. He motioned for you to sit on the bed and you did, thankful for the break for your feet. There weren't exactly a lot of places to sit downstairs that weren’t sticky with spilled alcohol.
“Poli Sci, I’m pre-law,” he answered. “I’ve been told I’m good at arguing with people.”
You laughed. “Should I be scared?”
Of him? Yes.
“Nah,” he dismissed, moving to sit next to you. “I’m harmless.”
The heat of his body rolled off of him in waves, you shivered as his hand reached up and tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch was deliberate, slow, and deceptively gentle. It was so tender that it made your heart swoon, your whole body tingling from how much attention he was spending on you of all people. “But you?” Eren said. “I think you’re the dangerous one. You come in here with that pretty smile of yours and suddenly I forget I’m supposed to be running this party.” He purposely leaned a bit closer to you.
The compliment seemed to land perfectly, your mouth curling into a sheepish smile. You didn’t get complimented a lot, especially by guys that looked as hot as he did. “I’m not anything special . . .” You said, trailing off your sentence. “I’m sure you say that to every girl who comes in here.”
“I don’t! Honest,” Eren said. It was true, but not exactly the truth that you would want. He didn’t say that to every girl who came into his bedroom because he didn’t care enough about them to compliment them, or he was already undressing them before the lock was secure. “I mean it.”
And then you did something that he hadn’t prepared himself for: you leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was so . . . simple. So pure. It took every single fiber of his being not to reach out and pin you down to the bed like he’d wanted to do for the past week he’d been plotting on you. Instead, he forced himself to give an innocent smile, catching you before you could retreat by cupping your face. “You’re not gonna give me the full thing?” He teased.
Eren didn’t give you a chance to respond, leaning over to brush his lips against yours in a teasing, ghost-like contact before he claimed your mouth. The kiss wasn’t exactly gentle, he really tried to be but his restraint was fraying at the edges. His tongue pushed to enter your mouth, pressing his body harder against yours, letting you start to see exactly how much you affected him.
You squeaked a small, surprised sound that was fucking intoxicating. You kissed him back, somewhat clumsily from shock that he came on so strong, though you didn’t want to push him away. His hand moved to grip onto your hair, just to keep your face angled perfectly, the other sliding down to your waist. Eren moaned low in his throat out of pure hunger. It wasn’t a kiss anymore, it was consumption. He could taste the sweetness of you on his tongue, the faint traces of the drink you were nursing earlier.
His dick was hardening beneath his jeans. He had to have you.
Eren pulled away an inch, lips still brushing your bruised ones. “You’re so sweet,” he whispered, voice thick with lust. His charming facade was beginning to chip one second at a time, revealing parts of the raw, aggressive side of him. “Can I show you how pretty I think you are?” It was a bit too forward, but Eren was practically desperate at this point, dick straining enough to hurt.
You pulled away more, heart hammering in your chest. He could see the gears in your head churning as thoughts raced, starting to understand what he meant. “I can’t,” you said weakly. “I haven’t . . .” The implication was clear from the way you trailed off.
You were a fucking virgin. As if this whole situation couldn’t get better than what it already was.
But then you said something that could have ruined his own plan. “I don’t want to be just another conquest for you.”
Fuck fuck fuck. He needed to say something before you walked out and would never talk to him again. He knew he was being too forward and he couldn’t help himself. If he got this far into the plan and failed, he would be so frustrated he would see red.
So, he did what any absolutely normal guy would do in his situation — manipulate. Eren looked like a man who had been deeply wounded by your lack of trust in him. It was his favorite move, to turn the tables so that you were the one who had done something wrong by doubting him and his intentions. He knew how to make you feel guilty about your own boundaries, twisting the truth.
“I thought you were different,” he said, his voice a bit rougher and laced with a wounded edge. “I thought you actually saw me and weren’t judging me based on the rumors and being in a frat. I thought we had a real connection.” Eren cast his eyes down to the floor for the full effect, a look of weary resignation. “My bad, I guess I misread everything.”
Your eyes widened, concern lacing your pretty features. He wanted to smile, to laugh, to relish in it. “No, Eren. I’m so sorry,” you apologized. “I’m sorry, I assumed the worst of you. You’re a really nice guy, that was wrong of me.”
Eren’s expression changed from cold resignation to fake wounded vulnerability, looking back at you. He let the silence stretch between you and him for three agonizing seconds before he allowed his shoulders to relax, exhaling a weary breath.
You did exactly what he had anticipated you to do, taking the blame for yourself and feeling guilt, which was a very powerful tool he wielded like a scalpel. “It’s alright,” he murmured, voice returning to that velvety register. He reached out again, finding your face to stroke his thumb against her skin. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you didn’t mean it. People just always assume the worst of me before they even know me. It gets exhausting after a while and I really didn’t want you to be like that too.”
He played the victim perfectly, offering a small, sad smile that made him look boyish. By framing himself as someone who constantly was misunderstood, he made you feel like you were the only one who saw his ‘true’ self. You were his protector, his exception.
“I just don’t want to lose this feeling I get with you,” he said vulnerably.
You reached and grabbed his other hand against your waist, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry again for misjudging you. I’ll make it up to you.”
Eren let out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head. It was the perfect opening. “You really mean that? You’ll make it up to me?”
“Yes, Eren. Of course.”
His smirk was barely visible, looking at your innocent expression. The air between the two of you felt thick, charged with tension that you didn’t understand, it was shifting into something that was nervous to undeniable. He leaned in closer until his lips were hovering just beside your ear, breath hot and deliberate against the sensitive skin there. “I want to make you feel good,” Eren said, leaning in to press a small kiss to your temple. “Can I do that?”
Your eyes glinted with something akin to curiosity and it was in that moment that Eren knew he had you. “As long as we don’t go . . . all the way, right?”
He knew exactly what you meant by ‘all the way,’ and while Eren had every intention of eventually getting inside of you, he knew better now than to push too hard and risk you bolting like you almost did before. The hunt was coming to a close, he was so close. He needed you to trust him completely first so that when he did cross that line, you’d be too far gone to stop him. “Of course,” he murmured with false soothing sincerity. “I respect you, I don’t wanna force you into anything you’re not ready for.”
The hand at your waist moved with more purpose underneath your skirt, pressing his palm flat against your thigh, sliding it higher and higher until he could feel the heat of you through the fabric of your underwear. His other hand tugged you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap, legs inadvertently opening up wider for his hand to slide in between. You shivered against his touch, closing your eyes and leaning into his large body.
Your body was betraying you in the way your legs parted and the way you leaned into the heat of him despite your nervousness. You were so ready for him and you didn’t even realize it. His hands felt so good against your soft skin, rough fingertips grazing your inner thigh to meet the junction in between them. The thin cotton of your panties did nothing to hide the dampness that was already in between them, feeling embarrassed that he had this much effect on you with only a few kisses.
He needed to reward you for your trust in him. Eren allowed his fingers to brush against the damp fabric covering your clit, pressing down firmly and rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The ministration made you gasp out, hand reaching to clutch onto his leather shoulder. “You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, pressing a bit harder down on your bundle of nerves, face reaching down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. Your head lulled to the side to give him better access, biting your lip. “Does that feel good?”
Eren was watching your reactions like a predator watching prey, green eyes dark and hungry. He wanted to make you moan, to hear your voice break as he pushed you closer and closer towards the edge. You let out a whimper, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure through your whole body. It was overwhelming, almost frightening in its intensity, but you didn’t want him to stop. The delicious friction was making your head swim.
His lips came down and you leaned up to meet them, but he didn’t go for your mouth. Instead he buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply before pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone, pulling you to sit directly on his lap, your legs draped to one side and your torso turning to face him. His lips were demanding, already hinting at the marks that he wanted to leave all over your skin. Every once in a while he would flick his eyes up to watch the way that your pupils dilated, almost as though you were drunk on the kisses and his hand underneath your skirt.
You felt his hand breach the barrier of your panties, pushing them to the side so he was on your bare skin. You were so slippery and wet that he groaned, fingers dipping into your folds to spread the wetness around. The angle was awkward, he couldn’t flick his wrist the way he wanted to in order to push his fingers in. Eren gave you a quizzical look, motioning to the head of his bed and it was so cute how you followed his command without him having to use words.
He moved on top of you, caging you in with his body. He slid up to cup one of your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, kneading the soft flesh, your nipple hardening beneath his palm. He savored every single one of your flinch and moan leaving your lips, relishing in the fact that he was pushing you right to the edge of your comfort zone, making your body crave what your mind was afraid of still. He returned his fingers to your cunt, once again pushing your panties to the side and with this new angle, he was able to tease your entrance with one finger, slipping the tip in just slightly.
Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, threading through the loose strands of hair falling from his bun, smelling the clean scent of his shampoo. Your whole body felt hot, your clothes feeling foreign on your body, uncomfortable to keep on underneath him. His teeth grazed your earlobe before moving back to your mouth, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, demanding grind. He let you feel the wet heat of his mouth and the overwhelming weight of his toned, muscular body pressing you into the mattress. The alcohol still coursing through your mind made everything feel hazy and perfect.
His hand on your breast kneaded it harder, thumb flicking over your nipple to keep your senses completely overwhelmed, dipping his finger inside of you, your mouth giving a hissing noise at the intrusion. It didn’t hurt, you were so wet that it slipped right in, but the feeling of having someone touch you in places you’ve only gone yourself made your whole body feel as though it was on fire.
Your hips bucked involuntarily against his hand, prompting him to add a second finger and curling it up, thumb still rubbing circles against your clit. He leaned down and bit at the sensitive tendon where your neck met your shoulder, leaving a faint red mark that he soothed with his wet tongue.
“Such a good girl,” he whispered, voice dropping into that commanding register he reserved for when he wanted to see girls unravel in the palm of his hand. The ‘good girl’ slipped out naturally, a filthy little reward for your submission. He swallowed your moans, the kiss less about affection and more about claiming you, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched the thrusts of his long fingers.
Eren memorized the way that your eyes rolled back and lips parted, enjoying this power he had over you far too much. The ability to make someone as innocent and composed as you unravel with nothing but his touch was the most beautiful reward he could be granted with all the waiting and plotting he had done. He was the one in charge, guiding you through this new world of pleasure, all while making you believe that he was doing it out of pure devotion for you.
The leather of his jacket creaked as he shifted his weight, pressing his frame harder against your body, wanting you to understand exactly what you were doing to him by having you feel the thickness of his dick through layers of clothing. “Please, Eren keep doing that,” you whimpered, hiding your burning cheeks in the crook of his neck as you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you.
His fingers didn’t slow down, sliding his fingers in and out of your slick heat, wanting to feel just how tight you were, how your body clutched at him while he explored you. Your breath hitched as his fingers pressed in impossibly deeper, rewarding you with another rough kiss that tasted like desperation and promise.
You were close to the edge, hips bucking shamelessly against his hand, seeking the release you craved. Eren’s hips grinded against your leg, trying to relieve the growing pressure from how hard his dick was. It was starting to hurt at this point. His green eyes fixed on your face, watching for the moment your expression shattered. “Tell me you want it,” he said, his breath hit against your skin as he increased the pace of his fingers.
“I-I want it,” you sobbed out, hands clinging to his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in this world. “More, Eren, please I need more.” Your legs were squeezing around his hand, keeping him anchored there. Eren’s pupils swallowed his irises at the sound of you sobbing his name, your surrender absolute. He didn’t hold back, the slow and teasing buildup was over, he needed to watch you come apart on his hand.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect when you beg,” he said, voice rough and devoid of the sweetness that had been there before. His pace was borderline aggressive now, middle finger driving deep into your cunt while his thumb hammered relentlessly against your clit. Your walls were spasming, clenching around his fingers, so desperate and tight and it drove him fucking insane. “Show me how much you want it.”
As you reached your inevitable peak, Eren didn’t let up, pushing you further and harder until it felt as though your entire body shattered. Your climax rippled through you, inner muscles clamping down on his fingers in waves upon waves of ecstasy. He held you through it, working his fingers relentlessly, committing to memory every whimper and every desperate shake your body had.
Your head collapsed against the pillows, body still twitching with the aftershocks of such a violent climax. The world around you felt dangerously unstable, feeling more exposed than you’d ever been in your life. Your eyes looked up at him, lips trembling. He stayed hovering over her a moment longer than deemed necessary, savoring the sight of you looking so disheveled and flushed. He felt a dark, possessive triumph, taking something you hadn’t given to anyone else before. He made you feel like he was your protector.
Deliberately, Eren withdrew his fingers from your slickness, the wet sound of it loud in the quiet room. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, playing the part of a perfect lover, propping himself up on his elbows on top of you. He was in no way satisfied yet, but he knew he needed to play the part in order to make himself indispensable in your eyes. “Did that feel good?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
You let out a shaky exhale, body feeling heavy and pliant. “Yes, it was so good.”
Eren knew this was the perfect moment to strike, when your guard was completely shattered. He feigned a look of longing, hand sliding down to his jeans to let you see the way that the fabric was stretched taut over his erection. He needed you to feel the ache, to know how desperately he wanted you to surrender to him. “You got me so worked up,” he whispered, lips brushing against yours. His eyes were earnest and searching. “I don’t want you to feel like it’s just sex but I know I could make you feel so much better. And you deserve that, right?”
You were responsible for his arousal. It was only fair.
He watched your face, waiting for you to come to a decision he already knew the answer to. Your mind was a fog, the rational part was completely silenced by the sensation still buzzing in your nerves. You looked at the way Eren ached for you and you felt a sense of power, that you were able to make him feel this way. Slowly, you reached down and your fingers tentatively brushed against the taut fabric of his jeans, feeling the hardness beneath. “I want to. With you. I’ll help you.”
Eren felt a jolt of pure triumph shoot through him as your fingers brushed against the denim. He had won, he had fucking won. His hunt was over, the prey had willingly walked into the cage he held the key for. He pulled back to sit up, never taking his eyes off of yours while he shrugged off his leather jacket, reaching for the hem of his compression shirt. He pulled it over his head and tossed it carelessly to the other side of the room, the lamplight catching the definition of his pronounced pecs and the sharp, tanned lines of his biceps. He knew he looked good, he’d taken so many months in the gym to look like this.
You obviously knew he looked good too with that cute, doe eyed look you were giving him.
His hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with a process that was deliberate and theatrical. He pushed his jeans and boxers down in one motion, exposing himself to you. His dick was already painfully hard, thick and veiny and pulsing with his heartbeat. He came to loom over you, muscular frame casting a shadow against your body. Eren didn’t rush, prolonging the moment. He needed you to take a long moment to memorize him, to feel the sheer weight of his presence.
“I wanna see you,” he whispered, voice a low growl. He reached for the hem of your top, pulling the fabric over your head to reveal your soft curves, letting out a breathy noise that could’ve been a groan.
“You’re so perfect,” he praised, hands sliding down your ribs as he kept eye contact, making sure you felt every single second of his attention. The skirt slid down your hips and his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, pulling them off completely. When you were finally bare, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. He didn’t waste another moment, gentle restraint getting incredibly boring for him. He moved to straddle your hips, the heat of his dick pressing against your slick entrance.
Eren moved to have it fall on your mound, cataloging just how far it would push inside of you. He was sizing you up, grabbing your attention to watch as well, lips parting. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider to give himself unobstructed access, fingers digging into your soft flesh with a possessive force. “Open up for me, show me how good you can be,” he said, guiding the head of his dick to your entrance, probing at the wetness.
You could feel the full, almost terrifying thickness of him, cockhead smearing your release.
Then, he pushed forward.
A sharp, broken grasp escaped your lips as you felt him beginning to stretch you open, the overwhelming fullness making your body tremble with an exhilarating ache. Your body fought for a moment and then yielding, feeling the tightness cling to him, walls spasming around his dick to try and accommodate his size. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it was, just a sharp pressure that gave way to something more delicious.
It was intoxicating to Eren knowing that he was the first to ever have you, knowing he was stretching you open and claiming spaces that no one would be able to take away from him. “That’s it, just like that,” he rasped out, voice stripped of any gentleness. He could see the pain and pleasure of the intrusion warring inside your eyes, and it only made him want to push in harder. He gripped your hips, knuckles whitening in order to anchor you so you couldn’t retreat a single inch. “Fucking hell you’re so tight.”
The praise was a weapon now, designed to make you want to please him more. He paused for a heartbeat before he gave one final, powerful thrust that buried him to the hilt. The impact forced a sound from your throat, but he was quick to catch it with his mouth, kissing you deeply to muffle any sounds while his body flushed against yours.
He stilled, which gave you the time to savor the feeling of being completely filled by him, his dick pulsing inside you. Eren pulled away enough to look at you, his eyes borderline feral. “Look at me,” he demanded in a filthy whisper. “Look at what I’m doing to you.”
Eren didn’t wait for an answer from you, because the moment he saw that look of complete submission in your eyes, something inside of him snapped. He didn’t want to be gentle anymore, it was exhausting. He withdrew nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip inside of you before slamming back into you with a vicious, powerful thrust. The mattress groaned beneath you both, headboard banging against the wall. “Fuck,” he growled, voice cracking. Your tight walls were clamping so hard around him it was almost too much to bear.
He immediately began a punishing rhythm, each thrust was deep and deliberate. He wasn’t thinking about your pace, he couldn’t, not when you felt this good. And you loved it, your hands gripping his shoulder with a newfound intensity, nails biting into his skin. He didn’t ease into anything, sending your head snapping back against the pillows. His hands moved from your hips to your hair, pulling the strands back to expose the sharp line of your throat.
The rough, possessive predator he was took over completely, his expression shifting from faux concern to one of raw, animalistic satisfaction. He thrusted with bone deep force, making you feel every inch of him with each thrust. “Shit — I knew you’d be tight, but this is insane. You’re like a fucking vice around me.”
His pelvis slapped against yours with a wet, obscene sound that echoed throughout his room. Eren leaned down and bit your shoulder, hard enough to finally leave his mark on your skin, doing it again and again until your shoulder and collarbone was a canvas of deep purple bruises. He marked you as his, completely and fully. He was completely losing his control to his lust.
You looked down, watching his dick disappear inside of you, the feeling overwhelming and not enough at the same time. He looked like he was going to consume you, and you wanted him to. It was unlike anything you felt before and unlike anything you’d imagined, he was reaching into parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You clenched around him, eyes fluttering open and shut with each thrust, tits bouncing. A strained moan left your lips and tears welled up in your eyes from the feeling of his hand reaching down to rub your clit.
Eren pushed your knee up, the angle allowing his tip to kiss your cervix, bullying it and making you sob more from the feeling. It was aching, it was deep, and it was perfect. It left no room for you to breathe. He looked up at you, keeping his pace while he watched the tears fall from your eyes, giving a grin. “See? I told you it would feel good,” he said in an almost sickly sweet tone. “Taking me perfect like you’ve been starving for it, hm?”
The gentle boy you had known minutes ago was dead, buried under layers of raw, unfiltered instinct. He was feeding off of your tears of pleasure, thinking you looked so pretty with them on your face. He leaned down and caught one of them with his tongue, tasting like salt and sin. Every thrust was a statement of ownership, a reminder that he had dismantled your defenses piece by piece. “Look at you, crying while your body is begging for more. Feels that good, huh?” he muttered lustfully. He wanted to tell you that it was pathetic, really. But he didn’t. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” There. Better. It would sting less than the other.
He could feel his climax building, the grip of his hand on your leg hardening with enough force to bruise. Eren’s entire body locked up when his orgasm finally shattered his control, a guttural roar ripping from his throat. He thrusted one last time, driving his dick as deep as possible before his hips stuttered in uncontrolled spasms. His teeth gritted against one another at the intensity, filling you up completely.
Eren kept you pinned there for a moment until he pulled out with a wet, sucking sound. He rolled onto his back beside you, catching his breath.
He felt so powerful and triumphant, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. Now, the lovebombing had to come back so he made sure you’d stay his forever. He wasn’t good at aftercare, he didn’t really like it or see a use of it. But it was a very good tool for trust.
“I wasn’t too rough, right? I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But you did so good.”
You gave a soft smile, ignoring the ache between your legs and his cum seeping out of you, turning on your side. “It was good, Eren. Really good,” you said, leaning closer to him for his warmth. He pulled your body toward him, tucking your head under his chin to wrap his arms around you in a protective embrace.
From this angle, you couldn’t see the smile he had on his lips, knowing that you were now completely, irrevocably, his.
(18+) ONE SHOT! ✩‧₊˚ not edited or beta read, frat!eren x fem!reader, college au, dom!eren, innocent reader, fingering, piv, loss of virginity, heavy corruption kink, making out, ELEMENTS OF COERCION, DUBIOUS CONSENT, size kink, dacryphilia, slight stalking, lovebombing, unprotected sex, mention of drinking & drugs, manipulation, eren is genuinely a freak of nature in this
summary: eren starts plotting on a new girl
words: 9k
author's note: please read the tags before you start and i suggest if any of them bother you then you shouldn't read this. anyway, hope you guys like! went a bit out of my comfort zone for this content wise bc i wanted to try something new but i had fun!!!!!
The first time that Eren Yeager saw you was across the room of a party in his frat house.
You were talking to his friend Sasha, carrying a red solo cup that barely had been touched, the contents almost spilling off the rim when you leaned over to whisper something in Sasha’s ear. Eren had a girl on his arm already, some brunette from a sorority that he couldn’t quite remember due to him being incredibly crossfaded. She was going on and on about something, but he wasn’t listening, his eyes were focused on you. The low cut top that you were wearing was familiar, he’d seen it before on Sasha a few weeks ago.
It made him wonder why you weren’t wearing your own top instead. Did you not have one? Were you not the type to spend your Friday nights at parties? What did you prefer to do instead?
Maybe it was because he was so high out of his mind that he fixated on you, or maybe it was because you looked so painfully out of place that your presence was just enough to cut through the chaos all around the room. The Acacia house was loud enough that the floorboards were vibrating, bass rattling the picture frames of previous classes of the frat that somehow seemed to survive years of partying.
The living room was completely crowded, students crammed shoulder-to-shoulder yelling over each other while simultaneously sloshing beer onto the already sticky hardwood floor. Everything about this was normal, he was used to the chaos and the parties and the girls that threw themselves at him.
You looked like you wandered into the wrong building.
Eren could see it in the way that you kept apologizing to every single person who bumped into you, stepping aside so that they were let past while holding onto Sasha’s arm to keep yourself close to her like an anchor.
“You even listening to me or what?” the brunette next to him, acrylic nails pinching his bicep to get his attention. “Hellooooo?”
Eren looked down at her. “Hm?”
“My god,” she said, rolling her eyes and looking towards where he had been staring at you. “That’s your next victim? You bored of me already?”
He laughed under his breath, turning to look at you again. He barely knew this girl and she was trying to vie for his attention like he was dating her? It was annoying, it was tacky, and it was very irritating to his psyche. “You’re unbelievable.”
“She’s not your type,” the girl commented. “She looks . . . sweet.”
“Who the fuck are you to think you have the right to tell me what my type is and isn’t?” Eren deflected, not caring if he was sounding like an asshole.
The brunette groaned, reaching up to put her perfectly manicured hand along his face. “What I’m trying to say is that you need someone like me, baby.” Eren caught her wrist before his palm could even cup his cheek fully, peeling it away with little to no effort.
“I think you’ve got the wrong idea.”
Her smile faltered. “You’ve literally been flirting with me all night.”
“So?”
She let out a short laugh, the answer painfully obvious. “So I figured we were going somewhere to have some alone time.”
“Nah.”
“ . . . You’re serious?”
Eren groaned, throwing his head back. Why were girls so difficult? This is why he hated spending so much time with them when he wasn’t fucking them, cause they got so up in their head about what he should do and what he actually wanted to do. Eren hated feeling out of control, he much preferred being the one in control, dictating what happened and when it happened. “Just go away before I get annoyed,” he said, holding back a biting tone so he could avoid getting a drink thrown at him.
The girl scoffed, grabbing her drink from the table beside them. “Fine, go talk to your innocent girlfriend over there. Your friend was hotter anyway.”
The moment she was gone, already hanging onto one of his frat brothers near the doorway to the kitchen, Jean materialized beside Eren with a beer in each hand. He offered one to Eren which he took gladly, taking a big gulp as if it could get rid of the annoyance he had during that entire conversation.
“That looked like it was painful,” Jean said, leaning closer so Eren could hear him. “What’d she say?”
Eren didn’t answer, focusing entirely on you instead of everything around him. He watched you accept another drink from Sasha which you began to gulp, most likely water, you didn’t seem like the type of gulp down a beer. It somewhat annoyed him, you had barely even touched your actual drink and now you were drinking water like the beer had somehow tainted you.
Jean followed Eren’s line of sight, landing on you. “Leave that one alone.”
“Why?” Eren asked with a smirk. “You don’t trust me?”
“Absolutely not.”
Eren barked out a laugh, lifting the solo cup to his lips again. “Why does everyone think that I’m the devil when it comes to women?”
“Because you’ve earned that reputation about what . . . forty times?”
“Forty four,” Eren corrected. “I just like to have fun.”
“My point exactly, you’re a walking condom ad. She’s definitely not looking for whatever it is you usually offer,” Jean said, gesturing with his cup towards you. “You’d eat her alive. And from the looks of it, Sasha’s adopted her. She’ll kill you.”
Eren couldn’t quite explain why he kept looking at you, why you’d caught his attention so much when there were so many girls here that wanted him. He’d had no trouble centering his attention on a girl before and taking them upstairs before coming back down and finding another one to plot on later. There were dozens of girls that were dressed here specifically to be noticed. It was a game, one that Eren had played for the past two years. Every single person fell into some type of role in his game.
Yet you refused to.
It bothered him.
He felt the need to break whatever good girl persona you had. Eren wanted to peel those layers back and bring light to the raw and visceral truth of who you were when you were alone with just him. Everyone always cracked eventually with him, like the girls who swore they didn’t do one night stands until they were pushing him onto his own bed, or the ones who claimed they hated frat boys that laughed at his jokes.
“I don’t think she knows who I am,” Eren stated, looking down at his half empty drink. He raised it up and drank the remaining liquid, crushing the solo cup in his hands and throwing it behind his shoulder. “I’m gonna go introduce myself.”
The closer Eren got to you, the more precious he thought you were. You looked like a deer in headlights, looking for the next moment where you could slip away. Sasha had definitely dragged you here, adopting a freshman who desperately needed a friend. This was going to be so easy. And even better, Sasha got into a conversation with someone else, leaving you alone against the wall.
“Hey,” Eren said to you, already invading your space not in a dominating way, it was commanding. Commanding your attention to sit only on him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”
You stared at him, a soft smile coming to your face. He was cute, he knew that you thought he was cute from the way your pupils dilated under the faint light. You told him your name, in such a sweet tone he would swoon if he had the ability to do so. He nodded, saying your name again under his breath like a promise, a small claim.
Eren motioned around the party with his solo cup. “First party?”
“Uh, yeah,” you said, having to tilt your head up to make eye contact. “I’m a freshman.”
A freshman. Eren had officially found his next girl to plot on.
He put on a charming smile. “Well, welcome to college then. I’m a senior.”
“Do you know Sasha?” You asked, motioning towards your friend. “She’s my sorority sister.”
He glanced over at Sasha despite knowing exactly how far away she was from you, making sure that he was playing the good savior keeping you company at a party instead of a predator trying to catch prey. “Yeah, she’s friends with one of the guys in my frat.” His eyes never left you, trying to gauge how you felt about him being a part of a frat, if he was able to keep you from thinking he was part of the stereotype that he for sure was.
But you didn’t think anything of it, taking a small, tentative sip of your drink. “Cool. I guess that means you’re safe then.”
Eren feigned confusion, cocking his head to the side to really sell it. “Safe? Is something unsafe?”
You gave a quick tentative laugh, eyes looking around the crowd in the room. “I was told that most guys in frats shouldn’t be trusted. That they just play with girls.”
“Oh, I know what you mean. Those guys can be real assholes. You gotta watch out for them,” he said. You were making this so easy for him he almost wondered if all of this was some big joke you were playing. But the look in your eyes was genuine, happy that he was acknowledging your fear and twisting it in a way that made him look like your savior.
You still seemed guarded though, holding onto that drink for dear life. It would take more than just seductive eyes and flirting to get to you. Which was fine, Eren liked the long game. It was so much fun to play with a toy first before it inevitably got broken. You were so cute, all wide eyed and flushed, the smell of your cherry lotion emanating from your sweaty skin.
He had this way of sanding down the edges of a person until they were malleable and easier to handle. Some took longer than others, the girls who spent more time in the library compared to out at the clubs. Some were ready after a few honeyed words. He wondered what you would end up being. Eren was eager to find out.
So, like the gracious host he was, he asked you questions about yourself. He wanted to know every single detail of your life so he knew just how to poke and prod at the cracks in your demeanor. Soon enough he would know everything about you, even the stuff that you didn’t want him to know. It would just take time.
Eren decided right then and there that he had all the time in the world.
Setting the trap was easy. It was the ‘making it seem as though you were the one calling all the shots’ that was hard. Especially with someone like you that seemed timid to begin with. He was doing you a favor, he didn’t want you to stumble into something with a person who would just exploit you. You were too sweet and kind for that, you deserved someone who was devoted to you, not someone who wanted to take advantage.
He knew what was best for you.
Finding your schedule was the first thing on his list. Armin was the one to help with that. He worked in the student center, the place where they kept all the records on a computer of every single student so that they could track their graduation progress. Eren already knew your full name, you told him willingly, and with enough convincing, Armin searched for your records despite something in his gut telling him that it was wrong.
“Why do you care this much anyway?” Armin said, scrolling through the long list of names in the freshman class. “You could just ask Sasha for her number.”
Eren hovered over Armin’s shoulder, staring at the screen. “I don’t want to deal with her asking too many questions.”
If Sasha knew that he was interested in you, she would scare you away from him. She’d make up lies about how he was a playboy (which he was) and that he would only try to take advantage of you (which he was). It would be terribly inconvenient for him, and there was a possibility that he wouldn’t be able to reel you back in. Some things were easy to come back from — that wasn’t.
Armin clicked on your name and printed out your schedule, reaching to grab the piece of paper from the printer. Before Eren could take it, Armin kept it close to his chest, purposely avoiding giving it to his friend. “Promise me you’re not being weird?”
“Of course not, ‘Min,” Eren said with practiced ease. “I just want to get her number, I forgot to at the party and she was really cool.”
It never took that much to convince Armin, especially since they had been friends for so long. All he had to do was put on that boyish charm he kept for his friends to convince them to give into whatever he really wanted. He wasn’t in the business of exploiting his friends, but he could do it on rare occasions when he knew it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. This was one of those scenarios.
The blonde relented, handing the paper to him. Eren barely uttered a word of goodbye before he was walking out the door, eyes scanning the document to see where you were on campus.
He waited outside of the building you were in, checking the time on his phone waiting till the hour was up for classes and people would be spilling out of buildings. He was determined to find you before you were able to walk away. Though, it didn’t really matter since he knew exactly where you would be going anyway. But Eren didn’t want to have to wait another hour if he could help it, he would if he had to. He’d already decided he would do anything for you.
Just like clockwork, five minutes after the ‘passing period’ you were walking out the door, dressed in a pleated skirt and a blouse that covered up more than the shirt you had been wearing at the party.
He made his way from under the tree he was leaning against and walked on the opposite side of the sidewalk from you, a few paces in front so you wouldn’t be able to see him at first. You were looking down at your phone, scrolling the screen, none the wiser to what he was about to do.
The second you almost passed him, Eren purposely swayed a bit to the side, his shoulder grazing your own.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” You said, stepping out of the sidewalk to stand and look at who you accidentally bumped into. “It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” The second your eyes met his, a flicker of recognition in your gaze. Perfect. “Eren, right? From the party?”
Eren pretended he didn’t know you for about five seconds, waiting until he saw a faint twinge of hurt in your eyes at the idea of him not remembering you. Then he gave a lazy smile, nodding his head, faint strands of brown hair falling across his temples. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said, stepping closer. “How’re you doin’?”
“What a coincidence,” you said, glancing at the clock on your phone. You frowned, knowing you had to get to class and wouldn’t be able to spend that much time talking to him. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him since the party, remembering how nice he had been to you, entertaining you while Sasha was out doing her own thing. “I have to go to my class . . .”
“I’ll walk you,” Eren said, a bit too forward. But he used it to his advantage, putting his hand on the back of his neck to pretend he was embarrassed about being eager. You gave him an endearing look. “I don’t have classes for the rest of the day anyway. Where are you heading?”
Altgeld Hall. Room 219 with Professor Stein. Eren already memorized it.
But he couldn’t let you know that he knew already, the paper with your schedule shoved into his jean pocket.
“Sure, that’d be great,” you said, leading him back into the flow of walking traffic to walk to the hall. “You sure it’s not too out of your way?”
Eren shook his head. “No, I wanna see how you are anyway. Y’know, when we’re not shouting at each other over the music in some dingy frat house.” He walked so close to you that your arms were touching, which he played off as trying to give the other people on the sidewalk more room. You weren’t pulling away, you wanted to be close to him. The idea that a senior was giving you this much attention, not trying to get into your pants, was refreshing.
You were glad you didn’t have to worry about Eren.
To be truthful, the first few weeks of your freshman year in college had been really hard. You missed being home with your parents, but you also loved the freedom. You lived pretty far away from where your college was, leaving what you knew best. It was what made you want to join a sorority so that you could have friends outside of classes. You liked most of your sorority sisters, especially Sasha, who was your designated ‘big sister.’
Having someone other than the girls in your sorority like Eren was nice. He was older, he knew what he was doing and he felt so confident walking through campus. It inspired you to be more bold, even if you still couldn’t get the courage to do it thoroughly yet.
“You know, you should come over sometime,” Eren said once both of you got closer to where you needed to go. He had to plant the seeds that he wanted to see you again. “Only if you want . . .” In any normal time, this type of behavior would earn him the title of ‘simp’ but he simply knew it would get the job done faster than him trying to force connection out of you.
You handed him your phone, open to the contacts app. “I’ll text you?” Eren had to physically stop himself from grabbing it too fast. Instead, he took it slow, making direct eye contact. His fingers brushed against your own, prolonging the tiny amount of touch.
He reveled in the blush that coated your cheeks, a dark, burnt crimson color that was a direct spark to his already large ego.
The second on his list was possibly the most important one — lovebombing.
Eren had unintentionally done this for a number of years before it had some fancy social media term, and most of the time he hadn’t known that he was doing it. Lovebombing was a science, and Eren was a straight A student. It was a delicious back and forth, a game of cat and mouse. He was always the cat, even when he was pretending to be your mouse.
He would text you so many times throughout the day. Good morning texts, asking about your morning classes, sending selfies, forcing you to play eight ball on imessage games. He’d make sure to ask you how your day was and send apple pay money for you to get yourself a coffee on him from time to time. It didn’t take long for you to get so codependent on his texts that you were waiting by the phone, faced up and ringer on for the next time that he would text you. Some days he always replied within five to ten minutes, no matter what he was doing. And other days he would wait two hours.
You couldn’t help but get a little frustrated when he did this because why was he so hot and cold with you? It only made you more desperate for his approval, sending him pictures of you during your day. One time you sent him a selfie and you were flustered for two hours when he responded that you were so gorgeous.
Subtly, he shifted his requests for pictures, wanting to see your outfit you put on in the morning. His eyes would scan your legs, analyzing every inch of skin that he could and remembering in detail. You had no idea that he would palm at his dick whenever you sent those pictures, making him cringe at just how much he was obsessed with you. Eren didn’t text you for two days after that. He couldn’t have you thinking that you had any power over him.
Then, at the end of the two days, he laid his final trap.
eren yeager: hey, u wanna come to a party at my frat tn?
eren yeager: ok if no, just thinkin of u
Only two minutes passed by before you texted back, saying that you were already going with your sorority sisters.
Hook, line, and sinker.
Eren found you standing near the kitchen of the frat house, leaning against one of the kitchen counters nursing your drink. You were actually sipping more than you did last time since you had a long week. You had barely gotten through one of the English papers you needed to write before the end of the weekend. He stood tall, walking a bit closer to look down at you, strands of his manbun falling out of the front onto his forehead slick with sweat.
“Hey, there you are,” he said to you in greeting, not giving you much space by stepping closer enough to be almost breaching your personal bubble. He could smell that same cherry smell emanating from you underneath the stench of cheap beer and the weed that the stoners were smoking out back. Eren rested one of his hands on the counter behind you, caging you in between his body and the marble.
He was wearing a dark compression shirt today with a black leather jacket open at the front with jeans. Eren today had decided to sport rings on his fingers, which matched the necklace that held a singular gold key at the end of it.
You smiled so big when you saw him. “Eren! Hi.”
Eren smirked wide at your reaction, he could practically smell the nervous energy you had before dissipating into a calm sense of relaxation when you spotted him. You still shrunk under his gaze, obviously affected by the sheer proximity of him. He forgot how shy you were when it wasn’t behind a phone, but it wasn’t a sign for him to back off tonight, he had put so much work into making you trust him — he considered it an invitation.
“You’re adorable when you’re nervous,” he said, having to lean down in order for you to hear it over the music. “This is way too crowded for a girl like you, yeah? Why don’t you let me show you around the house?” He reached out with his free hand to take the cup in your hand, the coolness of his rings brushing against your skin. He took a long sip from it, never breaking eye contact.
“Are you sure?” You asked with genuine, looking around at the crowd. “I don’t want to keep you from your party.” It felt like you were taking him away from what he actually thought was fun to talk to you and make you feel comfortable, he didn’t have to do that, he must be trying to be nice.
Eren chuckled deep within his chest at your words. “You’re too sweet for your own good, the party runs itself without me,” he murmured, smirk softening into something a bit more dangerous. He didn’t pull away from you; instead he closed the remaining distance with his thigh brushing against yours. “It’s too loud in here and way too hot. We can go upstairs where it’s quieter so we can hear ourselves think.” He tilted his head towards the stairs leading to the top floor, waiting to see if you would follow his lead.
You walked behind him, a few shoulders bumping into your own as you walked close. Eren was tall enough that you could spot him within a crowd with ease, his hand brushing against yours to keep you close and lead you up the stairs. A few guys near the stairwell looked at you with leering stares and knowing grins, knowing that you had no idea you were walking up with one of the most notorious playboys on campus. Most girls threw themselves at Eren Yeager and fought each other for his attention, but he was the one pursuing you.
He pushed the door open to his room, a mess of posters spewed across the walls. It was surprisingly clean for a college frat boy, almost as if he was planning it. Dark sheets were across his bed, moonlight spilling onto the oak floors and the room smelled like sandalwood and him.
“Definitely more quiet,” you said, walking further into his space. Your eyes scanned over his desk with a macbook and various textbooks. “I never asked you . . . what’s your major?” You turned back to him, his hand pushing against the door to close it. He motioned for you to sit on the bed and you did, thankful for the break for your feet. There weren't exactly a lot of places to sit downstairs that weren’t sticky with spilled alcohol.
“Poli Sci, I’m pre-law,” he answered. “I’ve been told I’m good at arguing with people.”
You laughed. “Should I be scared?”
Of him? Yes.
“Nah,” he dismissed, moving to sit next to you. “I’m harmless.”
The heat of his body rolled off of him in waves, you shivered as his hand reached up and tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch was deliberate, slow, and deceptively gentle. It was so tender that it made your heart swoon, your whole body tingling from how much attention he was spending on you of all people. “But you?” Eren said. “I think you’re the dangerous one. You come in here with that pretty smile of yours and suddenly I forget I’m supposed to be running this party.” He purposely leaned a bit closer to you.
The compliment seemed to land perfectly, your mouth curling into a sheepish smile. You didn’t get complimented a lot, especially by guys that looked as hot as he did. “I’m not anything special . . .” You said, trailing off your sentence. “I’m sure you say that to every girl who comes in here.”
“I don’t! Honest,” Eren said. It was true, but not exactly the truth that you would want. He didn’t say that to every girl who came into his bedroom because he didn’t care enough about them to compliment them, or he was already undressing them before the lock was secure. “I mean it.”
And then you did something that he hadn’t prepared himself for: you leaned over and kissed his cheek. It was so . . . simple. So pure. It took every single fiber of his being not to reach out and pin you down to the bed like he’d wanted to do for the past week he’d been plotting on you. Instead, he forced himself to give an innocent smile, catching you before you could retreat by cupping your face. “You’re not gonna give me the full thing?” He teased.
Eren didn’t give you a chance to respond, leaning over to brush his lips against yours in a teasing, ghost-like contact before he claimed your mouth. The kiss wasn’t exactly gentle, he really tried to be but his restraint was fraying at the edges. His tongue pushed to enter your mouth, pressing his body harder against yours, letting you start to see exactly how much you affected him.
You squeaked a small, surprised sound that was fucking intoxicating. You kissed him back, somewhat clumsily from shock that he came on so strong, though you didn’t want to push him away. His hand moved to grip onto your hair, just to keep your face angled perfectly, the other sliding down to your waist. Eren moaned low in his throat out of pure hunger. It wasn’t a kiss anymore, it was consumption. He could taste the sweetness of you on his tongue, the faint traces of the drink you were nursing earlier.
His dick was hardening beneath his jeans. He had to have you.
Eren pulled away an inch, lips still brushing your bruised ones. “You’re so sweet,” he whispered, voice thick with lust. His charming facade was beginning to chip one second at a time, revealing parts of the raw, aggressive side of him. “Can I show you how pretty I think you are?” It was a bit too forward, but Eren was practically desperate at this point, dick straining enough to hurt.
You pulled away more, heart hammering in your chest. He could see the gears in your head churning as thoughts raced, starting to understand what he meant. “I can’t,” you said weakly. “I haven’t . . .” The implication was clear from the way you trailed off.
You were a fucking virgin. As if this whole situation couldn’t get better than what it already was.
But then you said something that could have ruined his own plan. “I don’t want to be just another conquest for you.”
Fuck fuck fuck. He needed to say something before you walked out and would never talk to him again. He knew he was being too forward and he couldn’t help himself. If he got this far into the plan and failed, he would be so frustrated he would see red.
So, he did what any absolutely normal guy would do in his situation — manipulate. Eren looked like a man who had been deeply wounded by your lack of trust in him. It was his favorite move, to turn the tables so that you were the one who had done something wrong by doubting him and his intentions. He knew how to make you feel guilty about your own boundaries, twisting the truth.
“I thought you were different,” he said, his voice a bit rougher and laced with a wounded edge. “I thought you actually saw me and weren’t judging me based on the rumors and being in a frat. I thought we had a real connection.” Eren cast his eyes down to the floor for the full effect, a look of weary resignation. “My bad, I guess I misread everything.”
Your eyes widened, concern lacing your pretty features. He wanted to smile, to laugh, to relish in it. “No, Eren. I’m so sorry,” you apologized. “I’m sorry, I assumed the worst of you. You’re a really nice guy, that was wrong of me.”
Eren’s expression changed from cold resignation to fake wounded vulnerability, looking back at you. He let the silence stretch between you and him for three agonizing seconds before he allowed his shoulders to relax, exhaling a weary breath.
You did exactly what he had anticipated you to do, taking the blame for yourself and feeling guilt, which was a very powerful tool he wielded like a scalpel. “It’s alright,” he murmured, voice returning to that velvety register. He reached out again, finding your face to stroke his thumb against her skin. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you didn’t mean it. People just always assume the worst of me before they even know me. It gets exhausting after a while and I really didn’t want you to be like that too.”
He played the victim perfectly, offering a small, sad smile that made him look boyish. By framing himself as someone who constantly was misunderstood, he made you feel like you were the only one who saw his ‘true’ self. You were his protector, his exception.
“I just don’t want to lose this feeling I get with you,” he said vulnerably.
You reached and grabbed his other hand against your waist, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry again for misjudging you. I’ll make it up to you.”
Eren let out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking his head. It was the perfect opening. “You really mean that? You’ll make it up to me?”
“Yes, Eren. Of course.”
His smirk was barely visible, looking at your innocent expression. The air between the two of you felt thick, charged with tension that you didn’t understand, it was shifting into something that was nervous to undeniable. He leaned in closer until his lips were hovering just beside your ear, breath hot and deliberate against the sensitive skin there. “I want to make you feel good,” Eren said, leaning in to press a small kiss to your temple. “Can I do that?”
Your eyes glinted with something akin to curiosity and it was in that moment that Eren knew he had you. “As long as we don’t go . . . all the way, right?”
He knew exactly what you meant by ‘all the way,’ and while Eren had every intention of eventually getting inside of you, he knew better now than to push too hard and risk you bolting like you almost did before. The hunt was coming to a close, he was so close. He needed you to trust him completely first so that when he did cross that line, you’d be too far gone to stop him. “Of course,” he murmured with false soothing sincerity. “I respect you, I don’t wanna force you into anything you’re not ready for.”
The hand at your waist moved with more purpose underneath your skirt, pressing his palm flat against your thigh, sliding it higher and higher until he could feel the heat of you through the fabric of your underwear. His other hand tugged you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap, legs inadvertently opening up wider for his hand to slide in between. You shivered against his touch, closing your eyes and leaning into his large body.
Your body was betraying you in the way your legs parted and the way you leaned into the heat of him despite your nervousness. You were so ready for him and you didn’t even realize it. His hands felt so good against your soft skin, rough fingertips grazing your inner thigh to meet the junction in between them. The thin cotton of your panties did nothing to hide the dampness that was already in between them, feeling embarrassed that he had this much effect on you with only a few kisses.
He needed to reward you for your trust in him. Eren allowed his fingers to brush against the damp fabric covering your clit, pressing down firmly and rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. The ministration made you gasp out, hand reaching to clutch onto his leather shoulder. “You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, pressing a bit harder down on your bundle of nerves, face reaching down to press a kiss to the side of your neck. Your head lulled to the side to give him better access, biting your lip. “Does that feel good?”
Eren was watching your reactions like a predator watching prey, green eyes dark and hungry. He wanted to make you moan, to hear your voice break as he pushed you closer and closer towards the edge. You let out a whimper, the pressure sending jolts of pleasure through your whole body. It was overwhelming, almost frightening in its intensity, but you didn’t want him to stop. The delicious friction was making your head swim.
His lips came down and you leaned up to meet them, but he didn’t go for your mouth. Instead he buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply before pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to your collarbone, pulling you to sit directly on his lap, your legs draped to one side and your torso turning to face him. His lips were demanding, already hinting at the marks that he wanted to leave all over your skin. Every once in a while he would flick his eyes up to watch the way that your pupils dilated, almost as though you were drunk on the kisses and his hand underneath your skirt.
You felt his hand breach the barrier of your panties, pushing them to the side so he was on your bare skin. You were so slippery and wet that he groaned, fingers dipping into your folds to spread the wetness around. The angle was awkward, he couldn’t flick his wrist the way he wanted to in order to push his fingers in. Eren gave you a quizzical look, motioning to the head of his bed and it was so cute how you followed his command without him having to use words.
He moved on top of you, caging you in with his body. He slid up to cup one of your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, kneading the soft flesh, your nipple hardening beneath his palm. He savored every single one of your flinch and moan leaving your lips, relishing in the fact that he was pushing you right to the edge of your comfort zone, making your body crave what your mind was afraid of still. He returned his fingers to your cunt, once again pushing your panties to the side and with this new angle, he was able to tease your entrance with one finger, slipping the tip in just slightly.
Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, threading through the loose strands of hair falling from his bun, smelling the clean scent of his shampoo. Your whole body felt hot, your clothes feeling foreign on your body, uncomfortable to keep on underneath him. His teeth grazed your earlobe before moving back to your mouth, pressing his lips against yours in a slow, demanding grind. He let you feel the wet heat of his mouth and the overwhelming weight of his toned, muscular body pressing you into the mattress. The alcohol still coursing through your mind made everything feel hazy and perfect.
His hand on your breast kneaded it harder, thumb flicking over your nipple to keep your senses completely overwhelmed, dipping his finger inside of you, your mouth giving a hissing noise at the intrusion. It didn’t hurt, you were so wet that it slipped right in, but the feeling of having someone touch you in places you’ve only gone yourself made your whole body feel as though it was on fire.
Your hips bucked involuntarily against his hand, prompting him to add a second finger and curling it up, thumb still rubbing circles against your clit. He leaned down and bit at the sensitive tendon where your neck met your shoulder, leaving a faint red mark that he soothed with his wet tongue.
“Such a good girl,” he whispered, voice dropping into that commanding register he reserved for when he wanted to see girls unravel in the palm of his hand. The ‘good girl’ slipped out naturally, a filthy little reward for your submission. He swallowed your moans, the kiss less about affection and more about claiming you, tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched the thrusts of his long fingers.
Eren memorized the way that your eyes rolled back and lips parted, enjoying this power he had over you far too much. The ability to make someone as innocent and composed as you unravel with nothing but his touch was the most beautiful reward he could be granted with all the waiting and plotting he had done. He was the one in charge, guiding you through this new world of pleasure, all while making you believe that he was doing it out of pure devotion for you.
The leather of his jacket creaked as he shifted his weight, pressing his frame harder against your body, wanting you to understand exactly what you were doing to him by having you feel the thickness of his dick through layers of clothing. “Please, Eren keep doing that,” you whimpered, hiding your burning cheeks in the crook of his neck as you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you.
His fingers didn’t slow down, sliding his fingers in and out of your slick heat, wanting to feel just how tight you were, how your body clutched at him while he explored you. Your breath hitched as his fingers pressed in impossibly deeper, rewarding you with another rough kiss that tasted like desperation and promise.
You were close to the edge, hips bucking shamelessly against his hand, seeking the release you craved. Eren’s hips grinded against your leg, trying to relieve the growing pressure from how hard his dick was. It was starting to hurt at this point. His green eyes fixed on your face, watching for the moment your expression shattered. “Tell me you want it,” he said, his breath hit against your skin as he increased the pace of his fingers.
“I-I want it,” you sobbed out, hands clinging to his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in this world. “More, Eren, please I need more.” Your legs were squeezing around his hand, keeping him anchored there. Eren’s pupils swallowed his irises at the sound of you sobbing his name, your surrender absolute. He didn’t hold back, the slow and teasing buildup was over, he needed to watch you come apart on his hand.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect when you beg,” he said, voice rough and devoid of the sweetness that had been there before. His pace was borderline aggressive now, middle finger driving deep into your cunt while his thumb hammered relentlessly against your clit. Your walls were spasming, clenching around his fingers, so desperate and tight and it drove him fucking insane. “Show me how much you want it.”
As you reached your inevitable peak, Eren didn’t let up, pushing you further and harder until it felt as though your entire body shattered. Your climax rippled through you, inner muscles clamping down on his fingers in waves upon waves of ecstasy. He held you through it, working his fingers relentlessly, committing to memory every whimper and every desperate shake your body had.
Your head collapsed against the pillows, body still twitching with the aftershocks of such a violent climax. The world around you felt dangerously unstable, feeling more exposed than you’d ever been in your life. Your eyes looked up at him, lips trembling. He stayed hovering over her a moment longer than deemed necessary, savoring the sight of you looking so disheveled and flushed. He felt a dark, possessive triumph, taking something you hadn’t given to anyone else before. He made you feel like he was your protector.
Deliberately, Eren withdrew his fingers from your slickness, the wet sound of it loud in the quiet room. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, playing the part of a perfect lover, propping himself up on his elbows on top of you. He was in no way satisfied yet, but he knew he needed to play the part in order to make himself indispensable in your eyes. “Did that feel good?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.
You let out a shaky exhale, body feeling heavy and pliant. “Yes, it was so good.”
Eren knew this was the perfect moment to strike, when your guard was completely shattered. He feigned a look of longing, hand sliding down to his jeans to let you see the way that the fabric was stretched taut over his erection. He needed you to feel the ache, to know how desperately he wanted you to surrender to him. “You got me so worked up,” he whispered, lips brushing against yours. His eyes were earnest and searching. “I don’t want you to feel like it’s just sex but I know I could make you feel so much better. And you deserve that, right?”
You were responsible for his arousal. It was only fair.
He watched your face, waiting for you to come to a decision he already knew the answer to. Your mind was a fog, the rational part was completely silenced by the sensation still buzzing in your nerves. You looked at the way Eren ached for you and you felt a sense of power, that you were able to make him feel this way. Slowly, you reached down and your fingers tentatively brushed against the taut fabric of his jeans, feeling the hardness beneath. “I want to. With you. I’ll help you.”
Eren felt a jolt of pure triumph shoot through him as your fingers brushed against the denim. He had won, he had fucking won. His hunt was over, the prey had willingly walked into the cage he held the key for. He pulled back to sit up, never taking his eyes off of yours while he shrugged off his leather jacket, reaching for the hem of his compression shirt. He pulled it over his head and tossed it carelessly to the other side of the room, the lamplight catching the definition of his pronounced pecs and the sharp, tanned lines of his biceps. He knew he looked good, he’d taken so many months in the gym to look like this.
You obviously knew he looked good too with that cute, doe eyed look you were giving him.
His hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with a process that was deliberate and theatrical. He pushed his jeans and boxers down in one motion, exposing himself to you. His dick was already painfully hard, thick and veiny and pulsing with his heartbeat. He came to loom over you, muscular frame casting a shadow against your body. Eren didn’t rush, prolonging the moment. He needed you to take a long moment to memorize him, to feel the sheer weight of his presence.
“I wanna see you,” he whispered, voice a low growl. He reached for the hem of your top, pulling the fabric over your head to reveal your soft curves, letting out a breathy noise that could’ve been a groan.
“You’re so perfect,” he praised, hands sliding down your ribs as he kept eye contact, making sure you felt every single second of his attention. The skirt slid down your hips and his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, pulling them off completely. When you were finally bare, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. He didn’t waste another moment, gentle restraint getting incredibly boring for him. He moved to straddle your hips, the heat of his dick pressing against your slick entrance.
Eren moved to have it fall on your mound, cataloging just how far it would push inside of you. He was sizing you up, grabbing your attention to watch as well, lips parting. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider to give himself unobstructed access, fingers digging into your soft flesh with a possessive force. “Open up for me, show me how good you can be,” he said, guiding the head of his dick to your entrance, probing at the wetness.
You could feel the full, almost terrifying thickness of him, cockhead smearing your release.
Then, he pushed forward.
A sharp, broken grasp escaped your lips as you felt him beginning to stretch you open, the overwhelming fullness making your body tremble with an exhilarating ache. Your body fought for a moment and then yielding, feeling the tightness cling to him, walls spasming around his dick to try and accommodate his size. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it was, just a sharp pressure that gave way to something more delicious.
It was intoxicating to Eren knowing that he was the first to ever have you, knowing he was stretching you open and claiming spaces that no one would be able to take away from him. “That’s it, just like that,” he rasped out, voice stripped of any gentleness. He could see the pain and pleasure of the intrusion warring inside your eyes, and it only made him want to push in harder. He gripped your hips, knuckles whitening in order to anchor you so you couldn’t retreat a single inch. “Fucking hell you’re so tight.”
The praise was a weapon now, designed to make you want to please him more. He paused for a heartbeat before he gave one final, powerful thrust that buried him to the hilt. The impact forced a sound from your throat, but he was quick to catch it with his mouth, kissing you deeply to muffle any sounds while his body flushed against yours.
He stilled, which gave you the time to savor the feeling of being completely filled by him, his dick pulsing inside you. Eren pulled away enough to look at you, his eyes borderline feral. “Look at me,” he demanded in a filthy whisper. “Look at what I’m doing to you.”
Eren didn’t wait for an answer from you, because the moment he saw that look of complete submission in your eyes, something inside of him snapped. He didn’t want to be gentle anymore, it was exhausting. He withdrew nearly all the way out, leaving just the tip inside of you before slamming back into you with a vicious, powerful thrust. The mattress groaned beneath you both, headboard banging against the wall. “Fuck,” he growled, voice cracking. Your tight walls were clamping so hard around him it was almost too much to bear.
He immediately began a punishing rhythm, each thrust was deep and deliberate. He wasn’t thinking about your pace, he couldn’t, not when you felt this good. And you loved it, your hands gripping his shoulder with a newfound intensity, nails biting into his skin. He didn’t ease into anything, sending your head snapping back against the pillows. His hands moved from your hips to your hair, pulling the strands back to expose the sharp line of your throat.
The rough, possessive predator he was took over completely, his expression shifting from faux concern to one of raw, animalistic satisfaction. He thrusted with bone deep force, making you feel every inch of him with each thrust. “Shit — I knew you’d be tight, but this is insane. You’re like a fucking vice around me.”
His pelvis slapped against yours with a wet, obscene sound that echoed throughout his room. Eren leaned down and bit your shoulder, hard enough to finally leave his mark on your skin, doing it again and again until your shoulder and collarbone was a canvas of deep purple bruises. He marked you as his, completely and fully. He was completely losing his control to his lust.
You looked down, watching his dick disappear inside of you, the feeling overwhelming and not enough at the same time. He looked like he was going to consume you, and you wanted him to. It was unlike anything you felt before and unlike anything you’d imagined, he was reaching into parts of you you didn’t even know existed. You clenched around him, eyes fluttering open and shut with each thrust, tits bouncing. A strained moan left your lips and tears welled up in your eyes from the feeling of his hand reaching down to rub your clit.
Eren pushed your knee up, the angle allowing his tip to kiss your cervix, bullying it and making you sob more from the feeling. It was aching, it was deep, and it was perfect. It left no room for you to breathe. He looked up at you, keeping his pace while he watched the tears fall from your eyes, giving a grin. “See? I told you it would feel good,” he said in an almost sickly sweet tone. “Taking me perfect like you’ve been starving for it, hm?”
The gentle boy you had known minutes ago was dead, buried under layers of raw, unfiltered instinct. He was feeding off of your tears of pleasure, thinking you looked so pretty with them on your face. He leaned down and caught one of them with his tongue, tasting like salt and sin. Every thrust was a statement of ownership, a reminder that he had dismantled your defenses piece by piece. “Look at you, crying while your body is begging for more. Feels that good, huh?” he muttered lustfully. He wanted to tell you that it was pathetic, really. But he didn’t. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” There. Better. It would sting less than the other.
He could feel his climax building, the grip of his hand on your leg hardening with enough force to bruise. Eren’s entire body locked up when his orgasm finally shattered his control, a guttural roar ripping from his throat. He thrusted one last time, driving his dick as deep as possible before his hips stuttered in uncontrolled spasms. His teeth gritted against one another at the intensity, filling you up completely.
Eren kept you pinned there for a moment until he pulled out with a wet, sucking sound. He rolled onto his back beside you, catching his breath.
He felt so powerful and triumphant, he’d gotten exactly what he wanted. Now, the lovebombing had to come back so he made sure you’d stay his forever. He wasn’t good at aftercare, he didn’t really like it or see a use of it. But it was a very good tool for trust.
“I wasn’t too rough, right? I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “But you did so good.”
You gave a soft smile, ignoring the ache between your legs and his cum seeping out of you, turning on your side. “It was good, Eren. Really good,” you said, leaning closer to him for his warmth. He pulled your body toward him, tucking your head under his chin to wrap his arms around you in a protective embrace.
From this angle, you couldn’t see the smile he had on his lips, knowing that you were now completely, irrevocably, his.
Sung Jin-woo letting one of his shadows join? Only if it’s Igris.
🔞mdni🔞
jinwoo x reader x igris
Warnings: nsfw, expletives, smut, threesome, would this be considered necrophilia? I sincerely hope not, anyways—oral, pnv, dom jin, just absolute filth, creampie—although questionable, throatpie, multiple forced orgasms, first persons pov, links attached for some visuals, i just wanna shoutout this tiktok
Part 2 — ‘the day I found out that Igris has a knot’
——
I can’t lie, whenever I watch Igris in action my heart thuds in my chest, hard. It’s just the way he carries himself that makes him seem…so human. But he’s a beast, and he became Jinwoo’s shadow by a split hair.
It’s no secret that they’re both equally as powerful.
Sometimes I let myself fantasize for a while. Let myself think that when he looks at me, he’s feeling the same way. That his heart is slamming into his ribs, just like mine—if he even has one. I can’t help but wonder, what’s under that mask? Or rather,
Who’s under that mask?
Jinwoo catapults across my field of vision, slamming into the wall of the training arena. Igris stalks towards him, sword at his side and cape flowing behind him. I watch his every move, his every strut. He glances over to me, staring down at me with a predatory gaze, checking on me. Well, that’s what I allow myself to believe, only for a second. I know where his loyalty lies.
Regardless, my heart’s about to fly out of my fucking chest.
Within seconds, Jinwoo regains his strength, getting back up to rejoin this… ‘spar’. His aggression is palpable, I can sense it from all the way over here in these four walls tucked behind this safety glass. Only Igris can bring out this side of him—it’s always a fair fight, after all.
Well, almost.
I always look away at this point. It always gets bad for Igris. But for some reason, I can’t today. I watch, eyes fixed to the scene unfolding before me.
Jinwoo slams Igris into the ground, sending a rumble through the earth beneath me. The chair I’m seated in shakes, and I grip the table in front of me. Igris fades into black smoke under Jinwoo’s fist, and his glowing eyes snap up to meet mine, piercing into me with a threatening glare.
Fuck.
My core spasms. Suddenly I’m empty, and yearning for Jinwoo to make it better. He stands and walks through the residual mist that was once Igris, toward me. I swallow hard and reign in the ball of muscle trying to break through my ribcage.
His stare never falters, his eyes are anchored to me. I stand as I urge myself to hold it, to dominate it. But it’s too intimidating—he’s too intimidating. I look down, just for a brief second, showing my submission. And when I look back up…
He’s gone.
I feel a gust of wind and Jinwoo’s voice growls my name behind me, his hot breath misting against my shoulder. I break out into a shiver, and I stumble back into him. He catches me, steadying me with his iron grip on my waist.
“Jin—”
“Igris has taken quite an interest in you.”
He cuts me short with a hint of aggression in his voice. My stomach drops. His fingers wander down my hips, to my thighs—under the hem of my skirt. He presses his lips against the shell of my ear.
“I’m not quite sure if I like that.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” I whisper, obviously unnerved. I feel his hard bulge press into me, and my pussy floods with heat.
“I'm his master.” Jinwoo speaks a little too calmly, subtly tugging my skirt up, little by little. “I know his thoughts, his feelings. He takes a particular liking to your—hah, well, everything.” He yanks my skirt the rest of the way up in one swift, harsh move. “I mean, I do know the feeling.”
What is he even saying? That Igris…feels something for me? I can barely think, much less focus on the words he’s speaking. Not when he’s thumbing at my soaked panty.
“I didn’t know he could feel anything. He’s a shadow.” I say, breathless.
“Yes, he is. But he still has his own…urges. Instincts.” He whispers quietly as he tugs my panties down my hips, letting them drop to my ankles.
“Desires.”
“R-Right.” I gasp and hold my breath in anticipation and my body tenses.
He’s going to bend me over this table and fuck me.
I swear I feel a gush between my legs, and suddenly my face is flush against the wooden table and his feet are kicking apart mine. My panty stretches between my ankles and he snakes his fingers around my throat.
“Igris.” He summons his best shadow in a thick, dark voice, and Igris fabricates from a black mist in front of me, as if he didn’t just disappear. “Isn’t that right?”
I look up from the table, only to be met by a suit of armor and his piercing gaze spearing down through me. Shit. He can see me…like this. With my panties at my ankles, bent over a piece of furniture.
How embarrassing.
I feel Jinwoo fiddle single handedly with the buckle of his belt, and then the button on his pants. His other hand maintains its searing grip on my throat and jaw, forcing me to meet Igris’s quiet gaze. I struggle to breathe and my eyes threaten to leak.
My heart is going to explode.
“See? He didn’t even respond. He has total control over himself.” His voice lowers into a whisper next to my face and I hear his zipper. “He actually wants to fuck you.”
What? He—what? My eyes bulge wider, if it’s even possible, and I feel his cock notch at my slick opening.
So what, he’s forcing him to watch us? To teach him some sick lesson?
Jinwoo must sense my unease, and he loosens his grip on my jaw and my head slumps back down to the table. But I’m still staring into the void of Igris’s eyes. He remains unmoving, eerily still in his stance with his sword sheathed on his back.
“Caalm.” He draws out the word, letting his fingers just barely skate along the length of my spine.
My back arches and I roll onto the tips of my toes to present my pussy to him. Pathetic. I almost hate how wet and ripe I am for him. He hasn’t even looked me in the eye yet.
“We’re not doing anything you don’t want.” Jin-woo’s hand trails up to grip my throat once more, and he hunches over me until his lips are next to my ear again.
“Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
Jin-woo breaches me with exigency, in one hard thrust of his hips. I let out a whimper and try to stay on my toes as I frantically adjust to his thick cock inside me.
“I see the way you look at him.” He growls as he presses a harsh kiss onto my jaw.
He knows. And he’s teaching me a lesson, too.
“I…I don’t.” I can’t find my voice to tell my lie, especially when I’m doing it now—staring at Igris while his master is inside me.
Jin-woo lets out a low, wicked chuckle, and his hand tightens on my throat. Igris moves just a millimeter, as if he were about to let himself react to his master's slender fingers wrapped around my neck.
But he holds himself firm, head ever so slightly tilted down as he takes in the sight beneath him. The sight of my quivering, glossy eyes peering up at him, and my flushed, swollen lips glistening with a layer of spit.
“Careful, Igris.” Jinwoo warns his subordinate. “We’re not in the arena anymore. You might hurt her if you retaliate here.” He unleashes me from his grip, allowing me to take an unobstructed breath.
“He’s not a fan of my hand around your throat.” Jin-woo whispers into my ear, and pulls out of me suddenly, leaving me empty and aching.
“I won’t hurt her. She’s mine, remember?” Jinwoo speaks nonchalantly, as if he were stating a fact. Reassuring Igris, yet at the same time reminding him that I’m his. I can sense Igris tense—he feels like a ball of kinetic energy, ready to burst.
Jinwoo’s cock prods at me again, and I ready myself for the impact of his thrust. I know it’s going to be brutal. He slams into me with a ruthless smack, making the table beneath me topple onto two legs. My fingers grip onto its corners as I bite my cheek to stifle the moan threatening to rip from my throat.
“Mine to fuck.” Jin-woo growls, and there’s a possessive tone to his voice. He wraps my hair around his fist and yanks my head back. Now I’m forced to stare directly at him. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
That damn question again. He wants me to say it to his face. To make it clear that he owns me and my pussy.
“Yes.” I just barely whisper and feel him ram into me again. “Fuck!”
Igris takes a step toward me, his stare trained down on me. He’s so close to me now, and I’m eye level with his armored crotch. Blood rushes to my face and Jinwoo hisses behind me.
“Soon.” Jinwoo snaps, using the grip he has on my hair to hold me firm as he immediately sets a relentless pace, fucking into me with a vengeance.
“Soon? W-what’s ha-ppening soon?” My voice bounces from his incessant thrusts, and I’m so fucking overwhelmed.
“Igris wants his turn.” Jinwoo growls.
His…turn?
My heart lunges out my chest, and I’m pushed closer towards the edge. The image of Igris actually fucking me is almost too much to handle. If he were to fuck me…oh god. I’m going to cum from just the thought.
“Jinwoo, wait. I—” I moan softly as my legs tremble and my pussy grips his cock. Fuck, I’m going to come already. And Igris is going to watch it happen. “Please, s-slower—or, or, I’m going to—haah—gonna!”
“Yeah? Already?” He huffs, letting his hips snap into me repeatedly, fucking me like he’s angry with me. “Just from the mere thought of my shadow fucking your needy little pussy?”
“N-No!” I deny the truth through a tiny, pathetic cry, fixating on the sight directly in front of me.
The armor guarding Igris’s most prized possession looks tight.
“Show her your face.” Jin-woo orders quickly, huffing and puffing as he ruts into me.
Igris obeys, taking off his helmet and letting it fall to the ground with a clank. I crane my neck to look up at him and I’m met with glowing red eyes.
Hungry, scarred, red eyes, staring down at me like he wants to wreck me.
His hair flows down past his shoulders, a stark white with silver highlights. Christ, he’s more gorgeous than I ever imagined.
And I'm coming…to his face.
“Fu-uck.” I whine shakily and watch Igris’s eyes widen and his angular jaw tense.
“Oh fuck, she’s cumming on my cock, Igris.” Jinwoo grunts and fucks me through every spasm that ripples through me. I writhe and squirm underneath his grip and my eyes fill to the brim with hot tears. “Don’t you wanna feel that?”
Igris’s gaze snaps to Jinwoo’s, and the answer to that question is written all over his beautiful face.
“Shadow exchange.” Jinwoo growls under his breath.
Within moments, Igris fades to black and before me stands the menace himself—the shadow monarch—huge cock in hand with his ominous, glowing eyes shooting freshly sharpened daggers into me.
Then I feel it. A delicious stretch. My still throbbing cunt desperately tries to adjust to Igris’s fat cock. He’s inside me. He’s really fucking inside me. Fuck, it’s so thick and big that I could cry. I really might fucking cry.
I let out a wobbly whimper and force myself to keep still, if I move I think I’ll split open. All I can do is peer up into the luminous eyes that look back down at me with contempt, as I beg him to do something.
“Oh my god. J-Jin. Jinwoo.” I chitter through my teeth and my tears of disbelief finally stain my cheeks. “Jin-woo, he’s really i-inside me.”
“Impressive, mm?” He grunts, breathing heavily. He cups my chin, pads of his fingers sinking into my damp cheeks. He tsks, and a slight smirk tugs at his lips. “I want to be inside you too, darling.”
Jinwoo drives his thumb and pointer finger into my jaw bone, forcing my mouth open. He gives himself a few sloppy strokes before swiping his swollen tip on my lips as if it were lipstick, coating them in my own cum.
“Tongue.” He demands through a breathless groan, and my tongue instinctively darts out, tasting myself on him.
I’m sweet.
“That’s my good girl.” Jin-woo grins, his thumb rubbing my cheek tenderly like some sort of twisted praise.
His attention turns to his second in command, and he takes in the sight of him mounted to me. His cock twitches against my tongue, and my mouth reflexively closes around his mushroomy head.
“Hnng—she’s incredible, isn’t she?” Jinwoo sounds so smug, and for the first time, I hear Igris grunt. “Fuck her good, Igris.”
The force of his first thrust litters my vision with stars, and it pushes me further down onto Jinwoo’s cock all at once. Jinwoo takes an intentional breath to stifle a groan and begins balling my hair into his fist.
My clit definitely has its own fucking heartbeat.
Igris begins thrusting in and out of me like a starved man, shoving himself as deep as my tiny body will allow him. His movements are incessant, laced with desperation. Like he’s been waiting—wanting to do this for a long, long time. He’s fucking into me like he’s never fucked a pussy in his life and the thought of that likely being the truth is making this even hotter.
“Shit, I don’t even need to fuck your throat.” Jinwoo huffs with a smile and stands still, proving his point. “He’s fucking you so hard that your throat is riding my cock.”
Tears stream down my face and my head feels like it’s full of cotton. Am I even breathing? I test it out and hear a gurgling noise that I can only assume came from me. Jinwoo pulls out of me, holding my head in the air and I hear myself heave a loud breath.
“Don’t pass out on us, sweetheart.” Jinwoo’s dark voice echoes and I feel him tap my cheek a few times with his cock. “Come on, you can take us both. Right?”
He slowly sinks his cock down my throat again, inch by inch. I gag and my eyes water, because while he’s doing that, Igris is ramming him into the back of my throat repeatedly.
It’s all too much.
I shake my head and tap Jin’s thigh, and he yanks out of me and I gasp for air. He strokes himself fast, with his hips thrusted into the air and his core flexed. He groans low and long, watching me. Watching us.
“Make her cum.” He speaks quickly, stroking himself harder. Igris pounds into me at a frightening rate and I feel the coil in my core suddenly snap. I let out a filthy moan, loud and languid, from the back of my fucked out throat. “She’s gonna come, Igris.”
I am. I fucking am.
“I’m—I’m cummi—”
Jinwoo stuffs his cock back down my throat with an urgency, hunching over me and fucking my throat like it’s a pussy. His hand snakes down my belly, and his finger barely swipes my pulsing clit. His ghost touch sends me over the edge and I cum so. fucking. hard. My pussy throbs so bad that Igris groans like a dying man and ruts me harder.
“Oh fuck, baby. Yes.” Jinwoo moans, giving me one brutal thrust before emptying himself down my throat.
He grunts from the bottom of his stomach and he holds me for what feels like an eternity on his pulsating cock before tugging me off of him. I cough and sputter, swallowing between sorry attempts at taking a breath.
“Granted.” Jinwoo catches his own breath, and I can’t even speak to ask him what he’s allowing Igris to do to me now. He leans down, caressing my face and brushing my sweaty hair away from my pleading eyes. He plants a tender kiss on my ear and as he pulls away he whispers to me.
“Igris wants permission to breed you. That’s okay, right darling?”
Jin-woo takes a step back and I call for him with my hoarse voice. But he only grins and uses his stealth to fade into thin air, seemingly leaving me alone with the knight commander Igris—the blood red. I feel his metal arm wrap over my chest and his hand grip my shoulder to gain purchase.
“I-Igris.” I nervously and directly acknowledge him for the first time in this entire interaction. “Ple-ase…”
He growls and pulls me off the table and into his hard exterior. My toes cramp from trying to stay on my feet but he’s way too big and I feel myself lifting off the ground. He wraps his other hand around my waist and supports me with ease, fucking me mid-air. I claw at his armour and my legs kick and cross but I’m trapped in his undying grasp.
“Holy shit…Igris!” I cry out, frantic. “Hold on!”
Igris’s rhythm goes sloppy, and he’s trying to force as much of himself inside me as he possibly can. He’s trying to kill me, not breed me. A high pitched squeal splits my quivering lips and I kick a little harder—entirely too overwhelmed and overstimulated.
“T-Too deep! You’re too deep!” My tears stream down my cheeks yet my pummeled pussy weeps for more.
“You’re okay, my princess.” Igris’s deep voice hurls me into my third orgasm and I go limp in his grip, completely dissolving into the pleasure of his cock filling every possible part of me.
He cums with a gruff shout, tightening his arms around me as he stays inside me, stuffing me with cum until I’m queasy.
My vision splits and fades to black and his grip on me fades with it. I hear a hushed sound and feel myself falling. I’m about to slam into the floor. I brace for impact in my fizzled brain yet I don’t feel the hard, cold tile. Rather, a warmth envelopes me, cradling me as I blubber and fail to set any breathing pattern, much less a steady one.
“Shh-shh. Breathe. You did so well, baby.” It’s Jinwoo’s voice, cooing at me, and he holds me close to his warm chest. “You were such a good girl for us.”
ა ˙˖ summary → there’s no one you hate more than satoru gojo. he’s arrogant and entirely too full of himself. when you agree to be strictly enemies with benefits, gojo takes this as the perfect opportunity to finally make you his.
⤳ warnings: this mini series will feature adult content and is not recommended to anyone under the age of 18
intro
❦ chapter one: the fuck buddy proposal
❦ chapter two: you're not my type!
❦ chapter three: the conclusion
꒰ I've already got a taglist going but you can also sign up for tags here! under others just type in: the arrangement series ꒱
The Sun God had never been in love. Until he saw a lovely nymph, whose beauty made his heart race with a feeling impossible to capture in the sweetest words. Until he was struck by Cupid's arrow of love, sending his mind spiralling into an obsessive lust. Until he decided to... soothe you a bit, like a true, filthy scum. But well, Satoru Gojo was truly just a man in maddening love!
included in tales, myths, romances
˖𖤓 ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Apollo!Gojo Satoru x Nymph!Reader ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ content & warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18 + :: Greek Mythology AU :: half mythologically accurate :: MY WIFE FEMJO MENTIONED :: yandere Gojo Satoru :: obsessiveness :: possessiveness :: virgin reader :: masturbation :: strong reader :: she's also meannn :: Satoru is a SCUM in love :: drugging (with aprodisiac) :: lose of virginity :: Suguru is a scum too :: we're fucking on the beach :: posessive sex :: breeding :: mating press :: oral sex :: pussydrunk Satoru ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ notes: I need to learn how to write short fics, because it was supposed to be 6k. Anyway, it is half-mythologically accurate, as I, of course, added a few changes. There's not much said in mythology about Daphne's (nymph's) character, so I played with it a bit. Enjoy!
The common truth seemed to be that Apollo had been stricken by the wicked arrow of love by Cupid himself.
During the fight of sorts, Apollo, always so proud and pugnacious, killed the serpent Python. He slew him with a thousand arrows as the beast wrought devastation across the lush lands of mankind.
And so the God defeated it grandly, with his handsome cheeks and eyes kissed by the Mother Sea itself, shining majestically beneath the golden rays of the Mediterranean sun.
The end of the story it could be, yet the God of Music and Poetry and Sun, to put it bluntly, did not know how to shush a cheeky mouth of his that boasted round and round.
One day, flushed with foolish pride, he saw a God of Love, Eros, bending his bow, arrow drawn taut. A boy of young age who seemed too sweet not to tease, and as Apollo was known for his wicked, playful mind, he poked the little divinity with a laugh.
A laugh it was supposed to be, yet he went too far.
He joked a few too many times, laughing at how Eros shouldn't handle a weapon reserved only for the truest men. After all, who killed the serpent Python if not Apollo himself?
He had every right to be arrogant, yet the Gods and Goddesses couldn't stand the wicked smirk and unwavering haughtiness that always clouded his mind. He was beautiful and sleek, yet no one on Olympus's peak could ever match his arrogance and boldness.
Apollo was powerful, yet Eros was unkind. After he poked and played and had his fun, Apollo left Eros alone in the forest, giving him no mind. He didn't know, however, that the God of Love would prove far more wicked than he had thought.
As with his hurt pride, Eros plucked a few creamy feathers from his wings and prepared two arrows. They were completely different, one creating love, the other banishing it entirely. A savage decision, truly, yet how could a prideful man of Eros's sort leave Apollo without the fruit of his wrath?
So he drew the arrow of love and shot it right through his bones. Letting it seep deep and gravely, spreading the lustful obsession of the most wicked charm. The utterly deadly one, making one obsessed and wretched over the darling of their desires.
Usually, his arrows were meant to strike those who wished to be deeply in love. Yet, as the rage was ravaging Eros's mind, he decided to make Apollo the most obsessed yet unhappy man in the entire world.
As for the other one, meant to banish the love, he shot at the daughter of the River's God.
The most beautiful nymph of all, with a face carved by the waves themselves. A chin utterly kind and cheeks wholly sweet, as eyes carried a gentleness of petals' peppered kisses. A wild birdie she was, basking carefree beneath the searing sun, as she lay and drank and danced without giving a mind to no mankind nor other little divinities. Nothing plagued her cheeky mind, and no worry could ever haunt her velvety forehead.
After all, she was the River God's most precious child, and he allowed her everything, guided by a parent's blissful love.
Her giggle bloomed in the nearby trees, and tender gaze lit the powdery midnight sky. A true beauty of utterly rare sight, so impossible it seemed too not be caught in Apollo's sight!
The God of Sun and Music and Poetry had never been in love. He enjoyed the bodily pleasures rather often, yet had never come upon a thing so deadly and wicked called love.
He knew that Gods and mortals joyed in it with the passion seething in their blood – for there were Hades and his Persephone, Aphrodite and Ares, even Orpheus and Eurydice, too, although it seemed that love of humankind was of a rather cruel sort.
Apollo, or, well, Satoru Gojo, as his true name was, never gave it much thought. The Goddesses and Gods were utterly beautiful, true, yet none of them had ever made his heart race with the swell and tenderness that all the poets wrote of.
He had never felt this tickling pinch his spine, nor the sudden blissful pain puncturing through his heart. No lover had ever bewitched his soul in an almost maddening way, and so he thought that the thing called love was simply not a part of his fate. Even if, that was rather fine too.
And yet… the serpents of fate are wicked.
Another summer evening it was, while Dionysus threw a joyous party as Gods usually liked to do. With wine spilling all over the golden cups and jolly laughter swirling through the tall grasses of the midnight land.
Gods there were of all sorts – trees and rivers and plants, each with loveliest offspring too, joined the grand feast.
It happened thirty moons or so before Eros shot Satoru with an arrow of maddening love. One evening, when the God who devoted his mind to no one set his eyes on… you.
A Goddess? Dearests, no.
As if you were the Goddess, he would fear that Aphrodite, driven by jealousy, would quickly pluck your eyes out. For the moment you entered the banquet held on the hidden beach, where waves rolled in deep foams, and moonlight spilt its cold kisses onto the heavy stones, Satoru needed to hold his breath.
This feeling, which he had read – written – about so often, suddenly bloomed in the swells of his heart. His hand flew towards his chest, crumpling the ivory tunic that covered the sizzling skin. His mind was struck, as if by a trickery spell, making him lose interest in the men and women chirping by his side.
The lyre in his hands felt heavy as he plucked the crystal strings, producing an unpleasant tone. But how could he not, if his eyes were devouring a beauty he'd never seen before?
And that evening, he followed you like a lost pup. With an ocean gaze lingering longer on the swells of your body, wrapped in a flimsy dress, and on your sweet cheeks, giggling foxily as the salty breeze smooched them. The flicker of the candles peppering long tables cast a lovely flame upon your skin, basking it in gold and warmth, as he imagined licking it clean.
Satoru Gojo was a poet too. A God of Poetry, after all, yet his mind was miserably empty whenever he tried to put your beauty into words. No one had ever shone brighter than you, and no giggle forced this weird, foreign feeling to seep through the marrow of his ribcage.
He was always responsible for the music and jolly, while his dearest friend Dionysus spilt the wine into guests' cups. The merry atmosphere tickled him in a pleasant way, and the mere thought of going back to one of his temples with a few little birdies forced a cheeky smile upon his brazen lips.
The women, Goddesses, and little divinities who didn't wish to be smooched by Satoru's muscular arms were indeed few. Yet the nymph who bewitched his mind in the utmost wretched way didn't bestow him with lovely eyes even once.
Dionysus noticed Apollo's frown crumbling, so he jumped to his side with a whisper, "Hm, isn't she your type, my dearest God?"
Satoru glanced at the slyness on Suguru's lips and bit the inside of his soft cheek. "That's the problem. And yet it seems I'm not quite hers."
Suguru pushed a raven lock of his hair back behind his ear, and lavender eyes oogled your giggling body with a slight grin. "Do you wish me to give her a bit of my special wine?"
The special wine was simply spiked with an aphrodisiac. Some Gods loved to use it to heighten their own sexual pleasure, while others too… made the object of their desires a bit mellow. A bit more balmy and sweet, and so Satoru already imagined your body melting beneath his fingers as he held it dearly within his delicate grasp.
Feeding you the special wine would be easy. And yet, Satoru didn't wish to be a bastard.
"Oh, but you are," Suguru chuckled, sensing the thought in his friend's mind. "I don't think there's any God more selfish than you."
Satoru knew it was the truth, for his character was rather… oh well… let's simply say he wasn't known to be the kindest and most lovable pick among the women. The most beautiful one? Surely. The best in offering sexual pleasures? Indeed. Yet he was the most arrogant bastard on the Mountain's peak, and every creature living beneath the Midetarrean sun knew of it far and well.
You most likely knew it too, so that's why the stars bouncing off your eyes did not look his way even for a second.
His head fell against Suguru's shoulder, the heavy wine coating his tongue with a sweet taste. His mind buzzed with a clash of drunken and desperate thoughts, a pulsing desire already flowing like liquid through his veins.
"I want to approach her in a nice way," he muttered, feeling Suguru's body tremble with wicked laughter.
"You can only dream, my God. She had rejected all attempts to woo her. The men and the Gods were rebuffed before they could grasp the weight of her eyes," Suguru hummed, feeling Satoru's head suddenly grow heavy on his shoulder.
"Is it her father's fault?"
Suguru shook his head. "The River God wishes for nothing more than to see his grandchildren's blooming cheeks. It's she who sniffs at all her suitors. After all, she is a virgin huntress, bound by Artemis's chastity laws." Satoru's head grew heavier. "You'd better forget about her, my God."
But how could he! His heart raced for no one but her. And even if she was a virgin beauty, Satoru didn't mind it at all, for he truly believed in the power of his charming soul. The arrogant confidence of the Sun God was truly impossible to dim!
And so that evening, Apollo decided to fulfil your father's deepest wish and become a man worthy of his daughter's hand. The one who would turn the virgin huntress into his most delicate, lovely petal.
At first, he began strolling around the meadows you usually spent your time in. Where the river curved and bent like a serpent's snake, and crystal droplets smooched your body, immersing you deep. You often sat with other sisters, and Satoru would approach you all with his foxed smile, dripping with a few sweetish words about your utter charm.
The other nymphs giggled, blushing gently at the lyricism spilling from his lips, as if the words of the most passionate, heart-throbbing kind were meant for them indeed. They looked at your unfazed face with a sly smile, knowing that their sister would reject Apollo's advances as she did with all her other suitors.
The Sun God knelt on the riverbank, looking down at your naked body hidden beneath the water's gentle swells. He could see nothing but the swell of your breasts, with perked nipples smooched by the river's kisses. You were meant to stay a virgin, true, but no one said you couldn't use the charms of yours to make the men spill miserably right beneath your feet.
So you glanced, for the first time, at God's idyllic face and waved your hand with a soft sigh. "I don't need your courtship, my God. There's nothing you can say that will force my mind to change. And to answer the question you most anticipate – no, I won't marry you."
Other suitors would back away instantly, feeling the intimidating air your glance carried across the lush plains. Your head tilted wickedly, lips curving into a playful beam, as if you knew the wretched state you always left them in.
Because a man's nature was to challenge his luck. Who didn't think that maybe their fate would be to change the virgin's mind? As all of them thought of you as the gentle, timid petal, not knowing that the virgin huntress was indeed a true beast hidden beneath the loveliest female cheeks!
But the Apollo, of course, couldn't be more turned on by your harsh rejection. The truth was that he almost didn't hear a word. No, instead he focused on the way your lips curved into a tricky smile. How crystalline droplets clung to your half-dipped breasts, with liquid sun spilling all over your warm skin. He traced them one by one, dripping from the damp hair and down the chest. His eyes seemed to be enamoured by your heavy gaze, slightly squinted and teasing, as if you already knew that your rejection would pinch his wretched heart.
And so a truthful, "My Goddess, you're ethereally beautiful with this wrath-wrinkle of yours," fell with his deep, obsessed sigh.
The nymphs gasped, covering their lips with gentle hands. Their mingling eyes glanced between your squinted gaze and the God's wretched sigh, as they awaited how this concern would unfold.
"I'm not a Goddess, and I don't need your praise," you said, your voice dripping with disinterest. "Find yourself another muse, my God. There's no need to waste your precious time on a simple nymph."
You bounced off the river's edge and swam to the other one, where the Sun God knelt. With the golden halo smooching his pale cheeks and ivory tunic crumpling on muscular shoulders. Feet clad in long, serpent sandals, golden laurel laying high on frosted head.
You've seen men of his sort, yet he was the first to look down on you with such a wretched gaze. Like a doomed lover, trapped in a circle of unrequited love, as if his heart had never swelled for any beauty but your gentlest soul.
He watched you carefully as you swam his way, unhurriedly, slowly. Water flowed over your body in soft waves, and warm wind shook the sole strings of your hair as it fell.
Your arms rested on the lush grass as you looked up at him through a curtain of wet lashes. "My God, I think it's time for you to go."
Satoru smiled – foxily, slyly, yet truthfully – before his hand reached out to cup your lovely cheek. You quickly pulled back, letting the tips of his fingers only catch a whisper of your soft lips.
His head tilted, a few creamy strands falling loosely over his straight brows. "I don't wish to hurt you, my Goddess." He grabbed the hem of his tunic. "I simply hope you'll grant me a chance."
He was kneeling, propping himself on his toes, as his fingers itched to grab a single lock of yours.
"I won't. I pledged Artemis my virginity. I'm a huntress, not your silly muse. Leave this place, or you'll taste the blood of my arrows."
And these words had indeed been bold, as all three realms of this world knew that no man had been more skilful in archery than Apollo himself.
If anyone else had spoken them in such a daring manner, the wrath of Apollo would bring painful consequences.
Yet when he heard it in this lovely yet viper-like tone of yours, a shiver ran down his spine. His hair stood on end as if electrified, and an ethereal aura smouldering around his figure suddenly intensified.
He wasn't afraid, oh surely no.
But rather, the swelling enamour, pinching his fingertips, washed over his heart. Your wicked personality wasn't an issue of any sort, but rather made the Sun God burn with an unexplainable desire. Heat that seeped down to his loins as he took a whistling breath.
"My Goddess, do you know who you're threatening to?"
You knew, of course, yet the urge to play with his boastful ego suddenly proved stronger than the choice to simply leave him be. You've met men like him before – too proud, too arrogant, the ones who'd never heard the word no. Yet of all you'd rejected, Apollo – Satoru Gojo – was the worst of all.
He was the Sun God, after all, who took satisfaction in the fact that the world, indeed, revolved around him. A personification of vanity and smugness, surpassing even Narcissus's pompous pride.
He knew what spell his wicked beauty cast over the nymph's petal cheeks. He knew the virgin maiden would fall for him most pitiably, needing only a single glance from his lustful eyes. His touch was soft, and his hands roamed over the women's tender bodies in the most loving way, yet never leaving them with the true tenderness that should fill his heart.
Satoru Gojo was a simple scum you wished to have nothing to do with. A cheeky smile tugged at your lips as you rested your arms on the river's edge and lifted half your body out of the water.
He didn't try to hide the ocean gaze, immediately snapping down towards your perked nipples, with crystal droplets dripping down the lush glass. Your head tilted, eyes turning kitty-like, as the blessed kisses of sunshine, of his sun, peppered your wet cheeks.
"To just yet another miserable man," fell almost mockingly, prompting a sudden movement around his hips. You've noticed it, and so you turned your lips into a disgusted grimace. "Go away, my God, and know my mercy. I won't be that nice next time."
You fully lifted yourself from the water, standing next to his kneeling body, naked. His gaze followed up your thighs, the mound of your pussy, the plush of your belly, tracing every crystalline line carving into your body. When it finally met your eyes, his throat bobbed.
"My Goddess, you're truly underestimating my feelings for you."
A scoff slipped past your lips as your eyes rolled. "For the God of Poetry, I expected more flowery words."
And so, ignoring whether he wished to say anything next, you simply passed him by. Going deeper into the woods, leaving the Sun God with nothing but the lingering fragrance of your blooming skin in the air, and the painfully, wickedly wretched pleasure bubbling in his loins.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
You truly thought that he would give up.
That the Sun God, like any other man, wouldn't wish to pursue a woman who looked at him with nothing but a deep scowl between her beautiful brows.
And yet, for the next thirty moons, he always seemed to be there. Somewhere around, following you like a shadow, with eyes and lips and mind always speaking loudly, giving you neither peace nor serenity among the quiet fields of your home.
Whenever you went hunting, his arrows sliced through the air faster than yours, striking the animals and beasts with power that crumbled the heavens themselves, and a gasp always slipped past your lips.
Quiet, voiceless, yet somehow leaving you speechless upon seeing the strength the Sun God possessed.
He found you every single day, appearing like a spectre by the riverbank, a bow slung over his muscular shoulder, gold and softly feathered, mingling beneath the rising sun.
"Where are we going today, my Goddess?" He jumped to your side with a smile, immediately sniffing the fresh, flowery scent that clung to your sparkling hair.
You gave him no mind, simply following deeper into the warm, moist woods. The sun was barely high, and so you watched the trees wake from the slumber's tight arms.
"I'm going for breakfast, and you can do whatever you want."
Yet you knew that no matter how mundane your day was, Satoru Gojo would follow you nonstop. Just to steal a glance at your lips as you wrapped them around the orange's sweetest juice, the sugary stickiness dripping down your blooming cheeks. To watch the way your back bent whenever you drew yet another deadly arrow. How muscles beneath your flimsy tunic worked, and the sweat bubbled at the back of your neck as he traced it with a hungry gaze.
A few weeks had to pass before you started to tolerate his daily company.
He still acted bold and proud, often boasting like a peacock right in front of your irritated eyes, yet tried to keep his hands away, even though you'd noticed how his fingers curled whenever your tunic brushed their tips.
But then one day… something had changed.
You didn't know what, but well, he did.
Eros's wicked arrow had struck his bones, making his gut leak with maddening love. He was aware of the wretched ache in his heart, yet only after being struck by a love-spell of sorts did something beastly unlock in his mind.
As for the arrow meant to banish love, Eros shot it towards Apollo's dearest one. As all the Gods on Olympus already knew of his wretched state, Eros played his dirty trick, ensuring that the sweetest nymph would never glance at Apollo again.
But… well. A man in such haunting love is truly a hellish creature himself.
When the love-bound arrow struck his back, he took it with a wicked pleasure. Yet, when he saw another one flying boldly towards the curve of yours, he grabbed it swiftly, before the leaking peak could ever brush your skin.
It was a sudden movement as he stepped closer, his hand shooting toward something over your shoulder.
It happened yet another day, as you both walked the serpentine paths through his temple's lush garden. There's a little cove I wish to show you. How about a quick dip? After spending a month in his presence, you sighed and nodded, as nothing gave you more wicked pleasure than seeing him lose his mind at the sight of your naked body in fresh mountain waters.
And so, while your tunic fell to the ground and a warm wind brushed your hair with a soft tickle, he suddenly stepped closer.
Too close. Before a sudden crack of splintering wood sounded behind you, he drew an arrow, his long fingers clenching it.
"What is it?" you furrowed, looking at the long wooden arrow crushed in his strong grip.
He threw it to the side, taking the ivory tunic off his body. "Nothing, probably someone's lost arrow. Give it no mind."
But how could you, when something deep in your chest panged? You were a huntress, after all, so how could you not notice an arrow slashing at your side? There was never a moment when you would let your guard down, and yet, being in Satoru's presence somehow pulled a blissful laziness to seep into your mind.
He was always there – looking, watching, carefully observing each of your moves. Swooshing away a few men who dared to approach your side while he kept his eyes on you for too long.
To tear their limbs apart and unleash plagues across their lands with a single arrow. Something… you didn't know about, since there was no need to trouble your sweet mind. To reveal a sinister side of him that would shatter the gradually improving image you held of him.
His mind was already wicked. Heart wrenched by the pull of love so strong that it seeped into him from the inside. So the moment the love arrow struck his back, the feelings he had tried to keep within his heart suddenly burst with brutish, uncontrollable force.
He simply needed to make you his.
So you hummed softly, taking the first step into the little cove, with water slipping in from the nearby sea. A crisp chill hugged your limbs as you took a deep breath.
He watched you with a smile before dipping into the water too. "Rather good, isn't it?"
You nodded, leaning your arms over one of the sizzling stones. "Mhm."
Your bashful eyes roved over his ethereal body, lingering a moment longer on the broad, muscular back and meaty thighs. A warmth seeped through your loins, so you quickly looked away.
But he saw it. Of course he did, and so his body drifted a little closer, just to feel the saltiness wrapping your skin. Your hair fell loosely over your wet shoulder, and warmth crept up your soft neck.
The slight ache from the morning's hunt still pinched your muscles, so you turned to him again, only to see that he had suddenly come far too close.
A soft cough escaped your throat as you pressed yourself closer to the stone. "Could you, hm, give me a quick massage, my God?"
Satoru chuckled. "A massage? Is that how you wish to use the powerful Sun God?"
A scoff slipped past your lips as you turned back and rested your cheek against the warm stone. With eyes slightly lidded, you knew he, anyway, would give you whatever you wanted.
"Is there anything else you're good for?" A cheeky question slipped past your lips, followed by a low sigh.
He stood mere millimetres from your arched back, and the heat radiating from his body was smouldering your drenched skin. Long, thick fingers settled gently on your shoulders before he began pressing the muscles. Your body melted beneath his strong touch, and your mind went all fuzzy – nothing but soft moans and sighs would fill the little, hidden cove.
"I'm sure you can find a few things you could make good use of," his voice dripped with seduction, tickling your hair-covered cheeks.
A tsk fell past your lips. "You have only filth in your mind."
Well, how could he not? When your back arched so deliciously, with water hugging solely your slightly dipped hips? He could see the swell of your ass almost brushing his thighs, and if he took a little step forward, the tip of his leaking cock would surely brush your skin.
It was a blessing that you lay pressed to the stone in a blissfully unaware state, not knowing that the Sun God was going through pure torture right behind your back. With the fat, long cock sticking to his abdomen, little pearls of precum dripping down the veiny curve.
"You make me act filthy, my Goddess."
A month ago, you would have smacked his cheek and left him be. But now, with his fingers digging deep into the muscles of your back, a lovely laugh slipped past your lips.
"It's a pity I'm a wretched virgin, hm?" You straightened your spine, as if trying to give him a better view. "My God, you truly have extraordinary restraint."
Oh, how he loved this cheeky side of yours. The pure filth spilling from your virgin lips, eyes taking on a nasty look whenever you caught him staring at your nipples peeking through the tunic. The way you always undressed yourself in front of him without blushing like a birdie, taking full pleasure in the fact that he couldn't touch you as he wished.
Who said that a virgin should be timid and cowardly? If you could keep your chastity while still enjoying the wretched state you put men in?
And which God would be more fun to tease than the one who slipped through numerous affairs?
Satoru hummed, pressing your back a little harder. Slipping lower, and lower, through your ribcage and waist, rolling the little dimples just above your hips. "Have I? I'm afraid this restraint might one day snap."
A shudder ran down your spine as you tried to keep your head steady. Your bow lay still on the river's bank, and if he tried to misbehave even a bit, you would simply shoot him clean.
And yet, your hips rolled, as if trying to chase the pleasure his touch gave. "I'll be there when it happens." You looked over your shoulder, not missing the squint he gave you… "And I'll make sure to bring you to your senses," …and the reddened tip sticking to his hips. "I think you might wish to take care of it. Maybe with one of your muses?"
Or whores, as you actually wanted to say.
His cock trembled as you looked at it, and Satoru could only chuckle. Nastily, mischievously, with the fingers pulling your hips a bit closer. Yet not close enough for your wet pussy to feel the meaty shaft graze her lips.
"You are my muse, Goddess," he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing your cheeks. "Do you wish to hear the poems I've written about you?"
The sizzling sun licked your spine, eyes followed as his plush lips leaned to your ear. "Are they as filthy as your mind?"
He nodded, fingers slipping down towards the swell of your hips. Rolling deep circles, loosening the tightness in your muscles. "How could they not?" Snowy hair almost tickled your ear. "Who do you think I pleasure myself to? You may be a virgin, my Goddess, but I have my needs too."
With a sudden movement, he flipped you over, pressing your back to the warm stone. His thick cock stuck to the white trail of his abdomen, yet still not touching your dripping cunt.
You may've pledged chastity, yet you couldn't control your body's simple needs.
"You can't do anything to me," you said, yet something in your voice quivered.
His head tilted wickedly, and his eyes shone as he gripped the fat shaft. "But you can watch, hm?" A thumb swirled over the pearly tip, smearing the sticky cum over the reddened head. "Or is it also against your chastity?"
Maybe it was. Yet your head shook as back pressed closer to the stone. The water swelled over your hips, leaving your breasts bare to his starving gaze.
"Hm, thought so." His fingers slipped to your cheek, brushing a few wet locks away. "My Goddess, you truly are a wicked creature."
Pleasure, distress, haunting desire clashed with each other in your mind, yet your body froze in place. Lips fell only slightly open, eyes bulging like porcelain plates, seeing the fatness he gripped. Leaking with creamy droplets of precum, soaking his long fingers and veiny thickness.
Saying he was large would be an understatement.
Something in your belly squeezed, imagining his bulging head hit the deepest–
"Stop," the word slipped out in a shudder as you turned your head away. With warm cheeks and a trembling lip, as if the Sun God's look of himself pleasuring himself solely on your blooming face were against every pledge you had made. "Go and find one of your filthy muses."
Satoru chuckled before his fingers pinched your chin, turning your head back. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing yours. "I can't think of anyone but you, my Goddess. Look what a wretched man I am because of you." His thumb brushed your lower lip, then slipped boldly onto your tongue. "Do you truly wish to put your Sun God through such a tor–"
Yet before he could finish, your hand met his cheek. A slap bounced off the water, turning his face left. To bring it back to face your wrath, you slapped it again.
His creamy face bloomed like the softest rose, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Excitement pinched his heart as fingers clenched around the fat shaft with a low, groany moan.
He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your face, burning with rage. "Slap me again, my Goddess, and I'll make you arch that pretty ass of yours for me again."
You didn't know where this sudden change had come from, yet the man standing in front of you was not the one who had pestered you for the past thirty moons.
No, as Satoru Gojo, who now stood mere millimetres from your body, with his musky scent clouding you tight and his fat cock trembling at the sheer look of yours – look much, much madder.
Wretched, obsessed, with the flame dancing behind his watery eyes and a wicked smile tugging at his rosy lips
Another shiver ran down your spine when he started pumping his shaft faster. Smearing the creamy cum all over the bulging veins, throwing his head back yet still following the gentle rise of your trembling breasts.
The rage bubbled beneath your heart, and a tiny thread of heat smouldered on your cheeks. He leaned a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't touch you in any other way, yet the sole impact left you breathless.
"My Goddess, you smell so good," he took a deep breath close to your neck, letting another groan escape his lips. "So delicious, ah, I can only imagine how sweet the scent is down there."
A shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, feeling his muscular, massive body looming over yours like a deathly threat. Long fingers pumped his cock faster, breathless moans hit your drenched skin, before he finally stilled.
With the gentle, petal kiss upon your shoulder and his cheek nuzzling against your skin.
Something warm spilt over your belly. And you didn't need to look down to know what it would be.
"You're disgusting," fell in pure wrath, as you pushed him away. "Nothing but filthy scum. I hope this satisfied your hunger, because the next time I see you, my God, not even your wicked arrows will be able to save you from my rage."
You left the water with a shuddering, vexing tremor washing over your spine, and this little, agonisingly rubbing feeling that spilt hotly all over your mind.
Satoru followed your body with a slick smile, the saltiness of your skin still tasting heavy on his lips.
The Sun God was of a cunning nature. Wicked and wrathful, always doing things one way. His way.
Three weeks had passed before he had a chance to see you again.
His heart heaved in agony as he couldn't find you anywhere. As always, he came at the first break of day to join you on the morning hunt, but you simply weren't there. Waiting for him with a scowl, yet still giggling at all his foolish jokes and accepting a bit of help.
He was waiting by the river's bank from morning till night, yet you hadn't appeared even once. As if the waves themselves had trapped you beneath the surface.
He asked around – the nymphs, the Goddesses, the plains – yet everyone said they hadn't seen you for days. Or maybe they simply lied to him, as you couldn't simply disappear.
And so for the next three weeks, he walked through the lands like a shadow. He barely enjoyed anyone's company, sitting in his temple only to get drunk on the sweetest wine, letting his creamy skin be scorched beneath his own, merciless sun. A shadow of a man he was, as his heart simply couldn't bear the separation you imposed with such anger.
After two weeks, he met his twin sister, Artemis, to whom you pledged your chastity. He loved his sister dearly and knew her like the back of his hand. Thus, with a single glance, he could tell she knew everything that had happened between the two of you.
And based on her furrowed forehead and tsk that fell when she saw his grinning face entering her temple – she wasn't happy.
"I won't tell you where she is," she murmured, brushing her long, creamy hair aside as she enjoyed the warm kisses in the sun.
She lay on the sofa by her pool, with nothing but a long tunic gently wrapped around her body. Satoru hung over her wrinkled forehead and pressed a finger to satin skin. "My sister, such a beautiful woman you are, and yet you always seem so angry."
Shihori smacked his hand, glancing up at his brother with the same blue eyes. "Because you always make me angry, fool."
Satoru lifted her legs and rested them on his thighs as he joined her on the sofa. "Tell me where she is."
Shihori couldn't care less about her brother's wicked wish, so she shook her head. "You know she pledged her virginity, hm?"
Satoru hummed, playing with the long tunic as he brushed his sister's ankles. "I do."
"So you also must know what will happen if she breaks her vow?"
Of course he knew. That's why he came here.
"What if I told you I love her?" he asked, drawing his sister's attention. "I want to make her my wife. Give her to me, and I promise I will be in your debt forever."
Shihori propped herself up on elbows, letting long white hair brush her rosy cheeks. She was as beautiful as her younger brother – by a minute only. Possessing the same archery skill and a power that trembled the heavens.
With a slim chin and wicked eyes, matching the proudish smile. Strong and bold, with neatly carved muscles bulging beneath her satin skin and an authoritative tone that always made Satoru slightly squirm. But she was his older sister, after all, so how could he not feel the utter love and respect for the same blood?
"And why would I do that?" Shihori lifted her straight brow. "Why would I change my rules for this little nymph?"
"Because you love me," Satoru grinned. "And I suppose it would be rather proper to remind you that enjoying women's company also counts as losing one's virginity. My dearest virgin-goddess sister."
Shihori squinted, kicking his side with her foot. "Whatever I do with my nymphs is none of your business."
Satoru grabbed her ankle before biting her big toe, just as he used to tease her when they were children.
"I suppose some Gods would be interested in how the protector of young women and their virginity fucks with her dearest followers," he chuckled as she kicked him again. "You're no better than me, my sister. The same scum-blood runs in our veins. So let me have her, and I won't say a word."
Shihori glared at him. Morality and the need to give her little brother everything were clearly at war in her mind before she waved her hand and lay back down.
"Fine, I won't punish her. Just don't do anything stupid," she laughed, feeling Satoru's sweet kiss on her cheek. "She'll join another feast in a week. Just wait for her there. Oh, and bring me some of this Suguru's special wine."
Satoru tilted his head, another wicked grin already tugging at his lips. He knew his sister wasn't the saint everyone took her for, yet he had no idea how coy she was.
"And what do you need an aphrodisiac-spiked wine for?"
She opened one eye, shooting a set of daggers straight at his heart. But before another bark could pass her plush lips, Satoru chuckled once again. "Ah, what was this rumour, hm…" His eyes gleamed with a foul grin.
"What rumour?" Shihori asked through her teeth, yet the rosy warmth hit her cheeks.
Satoru stood up from the sofa, giving his muscular back a long, groany stretch. He scratched his chin before looking over his shoulder towards his sister. Oh, her anger only fueled his playful mind.
"Nothing, just that our dearest stepmother has been surprisingly benevolent lately," he observed, another wave of warmth wrapping around her neck. "I suppose it's because Hera truly enjoys the company of her stepdaughter. I wonder what makes her so happy that even Zeus no longer gets scolded for all his affairs."
Shihori slipped a pillow from beneath her head and threw it at his head. "Go out, before I change my mind!"
And so he left, with a crackling chuckle bouncing off the temple's walls and his older sister burning from embarrassment.
Yet now, with his sister's blessing, there was nothing that could stop him from pursuing your love.
And so he knew that the next time you met, he would make you his, whether you liked it or not.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
The moon spilt coldly over the feast's heavy tables as the Gods and Goddesses gathered around the flickering candles. The night was warm, as the summer breeze tickled the cheerful cheeks of the giggling nymphs, who listened to Satoru playing soft harp tunes.
An ivory tunic, as always, fell down his muscular shoulders, as the moon spilt dripping kisses on the lightened side of his face.
Finger played softly through the harp's gentle strings, yet lingered on your laughing cheeks. Something panged deep in his chest at how carefree you were with other divinities. You sipped your wine without giving Satoru much thought, as if you hadn't disappeared from Earth for the past three weeks.
Your laugh sliced sweetly through the air, tickling his ears. He desperately tried to force eye contact, yet you gave him nothing but the lovely side of your cheek.
An irritated tsk escaped his lips, an unpleasant anger bubbling deep in his chest. A few Gods approached you with a smile, forcing another wave of rage to wash over Satoru's spine.
Before he could step in, seeing how you slowly warmed yourself to some small God's side, a low, chuckling whistle slashed through the air.
"It seems like things didn't work your way," Suguru said, brushing Satoru's arm with his. "What? She rejected you?"
Satoru sighed, rolling his tense shoulders. "She's just a little nervous."
Suguru squinted his lavender eyes, clearly dissatisfied with such a roundabout answer. Raven hair tickled Satoru's cheek as he tilted his head. Satoru rarely saw his friend concerned with anyone but him, yet his forehead furrowed with a gentle wrinkle.
"Give her some of this wine," Satoru mumbled.
Suguru drew in a long breath, shooting his head towards Satoru. "But you said–"
He started, but Satoru quickly added. "I know what I said." He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes squinting furiously. "Give her a little. Just to soothe her a bit."
Suguru chuckled, hitting his friend's back. "As you wish, my God."
"Ah, also, prepare a bit for Shihori."
Looking over his shoulder, Suguru rolled a laugh. "Your sister? What does she need it for?"
Satoru gestured with his chin towards the start of the table, where three of the brothers and their wives sat among the elite. With Persephone straddling Hades's hips, a quiet goddess wrapped around Poseidon's arm, and Hera… sitting utterly bored and giving Zeus's drunken laugh no mind.
Suguru followed his gaze before a devilish laugh escaped his throat. "Don't tell me she fucks with the queen mother herself?"
Satoru crossed his arms over his broad chest and let out a soft hum. Suguru tilted his head, admiring Hera's gentle cheeks. "Well, she's quite beautiful. No wonder she's stopped going crazy over Zeus's affairs lately."
Satoru watched as his friend took another pot of wine before rejoining the Gods. His golden tongue whispered the sweetest secrets, and the divinities laughed and blushed beneath Dionysus's soothing lines. After all, a God of Laughter, Wine and Theatre, he knew exactly how to play on people's minds.
You weren't an exception. As he approached and wrapped his arms around you and your friend, a gentle laugh made your eyes lift. Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, catching Suguru's sly glance, while his fingers clenched around your soft arm.
But still, he poured you another cup of the sweetest wine, watching you close as you took a sip. And another, another, another, before humming softly about how delicious it tastes.
A few minutes passed before something warm began to spill across your chest. A kind of fog clouded your mind – sweet and gentle, yet sizzling like the sun.
The nymph sitting right next to you grabbed your arm, looking at your hottish face with a furrow. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some water?"
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling her cold skin against yours. Your head shook as a soft "I'm fine" barely passed your lips.
Excusing yourself, you rose from the chair and headed to a quieter part of the beach, where gentle waves lapped inside the small cove. Surrounded by the forest and shielded by tall trees, the spot offered a peaceful retreat. The salty breeze gently touched your cheeks, while your throat felt parched, and you scratched it with long nails.
The fog clouding your head was getting thicker, denser, spreading all over your body till the fingertips tingled with a pinching pleasure.
Something wet dripped down your inner thighs, and as you hid yourself behind a tree and slipped a hand beneath the long dress, you felt the stickiness coating your sizzling skin. But more so… the moment your finger brushed your swollen folds, a low bounce of the softly rolling waves.
"Fuck," slipped in a whisper, as you felt the burning pleasure fill your lower belly.
You looked around, seeing that neither mortal nor God peered into the little cove. The bay seemed completely private, with nothing but moonlight spilling onto the smooth sand and soft whispers rolling off the crystal waves.
You took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together. Just to feel a faint friction, yet too embarrassed to slip your finger up again.
You've never felt it before. This… sensation.
Pleasure.
Or maybe you did, yet your mind refused to accept that Apollo, or Satoru Gojo, was the only man who woke a dangerous flame deep in your chest.
Maybe you simply wished to forget about the warmth that boiled deep within your lower belly when his muscular body stood right in front of yours. The look on his handsome face, lost in utter pleasure, and his long fingers wrapped around his filthy cock.
You tried not to think of it again, as the moment the image of his shaft slipped again into your mind, another moany sigh rolled past your lips. Your pussy clenched around nothing, letting another batch of stickiness coat your thighs. Trickling down the skin, till you've noticed a little, wet drop landing on the sand.
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you cried, feeling the burning sensation pinch your skin harder. Perking your nipples, softening your body, as if preparing you to accept the pleasure that needed to be spilt.
Bracing yourself against the stony wall, you took a few steps. On trembling legs, you felt the weakness slowly seep into your marrow. You walked slowly, trying to go deeper into the nearby forest, just to reach the river.
Somewhere safe.
You moved slowly, with wetness dripping down your legs and heavy breaths escaping your burning lungs. Your eyes were misty, nearly teary, as the feverish, floral heat enveloped your entire body.
Waves rolled past your bare feet, sandals long forgotten somewhere in the back. Your burning body couldn't bear the dress clinging to your skin, so you began to undress unconsciously.
One cloth after another, before falling down your knees, to crawl towards the river's banks.
"Do you need help, my Goddess?"
Someone's voice filled your balmy mind.
No, not someone's.
His.
Of the God whom you wished to see the last, as the sole fragrance of his skin pinched your senses in an utmost sinful way.
And, oh, he must've watched you now in such an embarrassing stance!
Kneeling with your sizzling body, you shed the sea-drenched dress behind you. The intense desire overwhelmed your reason as you presented yourself fully before his daring gaze.
"Go away," you barely breathed. "You can't see me in such a state."
But Satoru merely chuckled before you heard his heavy footsteps coming your way. Ocean eyes hummed at all the garments you'd left behind before settling on your clenched thighs and slightly arched back as you tried to crawl towards the nearest river.
He squinted, seeing the wetness dripping down your thighs and a gentle shimmer from your swollen pussy.
"My Goddess, it seems that you do feel unwell," He chuckled, taking another step your way. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Your head shook as you tried to crawl faster, only to get away from him as fast as you could. An attempt to stand up ended in a miserable fall onto the sand, drawing a soft giggle from Satoru's lips. He knelt by your side, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks.
"Oh my," he hummed, seeing the utter loveliness of your drugged face.
With cheeks sweet as fresh cherries and eyes softened by an alluring scowl. A gentle pout tugged at your lips as you unconsciously nuzzled against his skin. Another hand cupped your cheek as he held your face in a possessive grip. His big thumbs, tight yet delicate, brushed your skin.
"What is it, my Goddess?" He whispered, allowing a lenient sigh to spill past your lips. "What happened here, hm? Are you a bit too drunk?"
You nodded, thinking of nothing but the pleasant grip of his fingers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were slowly giving in.
A miserable attempt to push him away ended solely with you even more pathetically landing on the soft sand. Your back hit it with a dull thud, as Satoru placed his fingers on your knees. Thumb rolled gently in circles, as if he knew how much pleasure your body took from each brush of his skin.
"Say it," he muttered, leaning closer. Plush lips brushed one of your knees, eyes never leaving your fogged face. "Say that you want me to help you, my Goddess. I know how to make you feel good."
Oh, and you knew too, which is why your knees tried to close again. But his grip was too strong, and he brutally forced them forward, folding you in half.
With your bare pussy dripping filthy onto the sand and perked nipples waiting to be softly brushed by his thumb.
The moonlight kissed his handsome, sharp side as he leaned in once again. To hang right over your face, observing with wicked pleasure the tears forming beneath your lids. As if he could see the fuzzy mess of your mind, with morality and a simple, human need drawing a brutal tight.
"I c-can't," you mumbled, feeling the heat drip down your tongue. It felt much heavier than before, barely touching your feverish roof. "Stop, I can't, the chastity–"
"Shhh," Satoru cooed, pressing your thighs to your chest. Till the swell of your ass glued off the drenched sand. "Artemis will forgive you."
His nose traced the plush of your cheek. Lips peppering your skin softly, leaving traces down your chin. His tongue swirled sweetly around one of your nipples, through the burning neck, perked breasts.
You wished to fight it – you truly did, yet a sugary moan slipped past your lips.
"No, she–ah!" you cried, as he softly bit your nipple.
"It's alright, my Goddess. Don't resist it," he murmured, with one hand feeling your breasts as his lips traced a path down your body. He gently bit, grazed, and nipped your skin before resting his cheek against your mound. "Allow me to take care of you. Just say you want it," he whispered, as his finger rolled your nipple, causing another cry to escape your lips.
"I'm a v-virgin, wait…" Your hand landed on Satoru's head, tugging softly on his hair.
Satoru groaned, feeling your gentle finger scratch his scalp. "I'll take good care of you. It won't hurt, I promise," he mumbled right into the drenched mound of your cunt, as the fragrance of sugary juices already hit his senses. "Fuck, my Goddess. Just let me have a taste. I won't put it in…" promise?
You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling his warm breath almost brush your core. Not quite, yet the mere sight of him, lying so handsomely between your thighs, was enough to force a nod.
A nod, which would never happen if your mind wasn't on the verge of spilling. If your body wasn't melting beneath his touch, thighs spreading even wider, just to open your cunt to his starving mouth.
It was utterly embarrassing, humiliating, mostly sinful act and yet… when his tongue finally licked the juices off your clit, a shuddering moan bounced off the cove's stones.
He didn't waste a time, pushing the drenched muscle right inside your spasming cunt. Slurping, ravishing on the waves of wetness that spilt from your hole in unnaturally large bursts. Droplet after droplet, trickling down his chin and landing softly on the sand.
"My Goddess, fuck, I knew you would taste so good," he slurred, letting your juices stick to his lips. "My sweetest love, mhm, I was waiting a month for you."
Your fingers clenched around his hair as you tried to slightly pull him back. "W-wait, that's–nghhh–too much, my God!"
Your body had always been much weaker than his, but now, with neediness running through your blood, it seemed impossible to do anything but allow yourself to be wrapped in his lips.
He took your hand, slipping it down your belly. Down to your clenching cunt, only to press your two fingers against the swollen clit.
"Do you feel it, my Goddess?" He chuckled, looking up at your warm cheeks. "Do you feel how wet you are? That's what you wanted to take away from me."
He directed your pads to press softly, pinchily, till another moan spilt past your lips. His tongue slurping on your tight core, fingers of one hand rolling your nipples. Squeezing the plush breasts, till a painful pleasure tickled your spine.
And the other hand…
"Wait!" You screamed, quickly catching his wrist. "N-no penetration… just…" Oh dearest, how embarrassing it was to say out loud! "… use your tongue. I can't lose my virginity."
My sweet foolish nymph, Satoru thought, before an innocent, "Of course, my Goddess," fell past his plush lips.
The waves and waves of ethereal pleasure washed over your spine as he devoured your sweet pussy with a starving need. Nose all glued with your juices, cheeks nastily squeezed by your trembling thighs, tongue working on your clit and hole, trying to stretch her as much as he could.
His creamy forehead furrowed with a wrinkle, brows tight, as you pushed a few soft strands of his hair away.
"My God, please t-take a breath," you cried, yet the spilling lustfulness seeped like a flame through your skin. "I'm–mhmm–t-there's something…" Before you could point at your lower belly, his hand pressed right there.
Squeezing your little pouch, as if trying to feel the slick, filthy cum splashing beneath your skin.
"You need to cum, my Goddess," he mumbled drunkenly, sucking on your plush clit. "But for that, I need to put my finger in."
You bit your lower lip, looking down at his wretched face.
His cheek nuzzled against your soft thigh, kissing the clit softly. "Please? Just a finger. I promise, it'll be fine."
Oh, he looked stunning. With those alluring eyes and innocent pout, as if aware that his angelic face alone was enough to make your head spin.
So you nodded, rather unconsciously, and watched him push one finger in.
"Oh," slipped moany at the new feeling. "Oh, my God, mhmm, i-it's–"
"Now you can cum for me," Satoru whispered, going back to sucking your clit.
He knew where your sweet spot was – how couldn't he? – so within a second, you started squirming beneath his grip.
One of his hands rested on your belly while the other was deep inside your tight, clenching walls. He kissed, brushed, and lightly peppered your most sensitive spot with his finger until your thighs finally clenched around his head.
Locking him in a tight, shuddering embrace as he drunkenly moaned over your spilling juices. With a single flick of his tongue, you melted beneath his maddening touch, squirting all over his cheeks, chin and nose, till the Sun God was left nothing but a wretched man, hugging nastily to your velvety skin.
Your head felt a bit less feverish, with the crimson fog finally clearing from in front of your eyes and fresh summer air finally filling your lungs.
For a mere second, you felt normal again.
Satoru still lay between your spread legs, kissing the slippery skin of your inner thighs softly.
"Welcome back, my Goddess," he muttered, licking the last juices dripping from your pussy.
You watched him with pure terror swirling behind your eyes. "I… this feeling…"
"Mmm," he hummed, softly biting a plush of your thigh. "Someone must've spiked your wine, my Goddess. Have you angered anyone recently?"
Oh, he was such a scum.
Your lovely brows furrowed, a drop of sweat slipping down your temple. "No, I… I don't know. There was…" you, wanted to slip, yet you bit down on your tongue.
Satoru pouted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "My Goddess, I vow to find that bastard and slash his throat," he whispered, kissing your thigh and moving upward, even biting gently into your calf. "But for now, brace yourself for another wave."
And true to his promise, the heat once more kissed your cheeks. It climbed up your neck, seeped into fingertips, curled beneath lower belly, and caused another slick to slide down your cunt.
A fogginess once again swirled in front of your eyes, and an anxiety bubbled somewhere deep in your tightened throat.
Satoru flipped you onto your belly, with a soft, "Shhh, it's fine, my Goddess. You'll be fine."
Gentle, wet kisses landed on your shivering spine, leaving hottish traces down the skin.
"What a-are you doing?" fell shuddered.
But you didn't catch his reply. Truly, you heard nothing at all but the swoosh of his tunic as it landed close to your sand-plastered face.
"My God–ah!" Slipped in a pitched moan, as something fat poked on your swollen pussy.
The heat was teasing, gently pinching your damp folds, rolling waves of intense pleasure whenever Satoru stirred your cunt. His fingers spread the heat in a soft hum, and something heavy, round, pressed against your tight entrance.
"My God, what–"
"My love," Satoru let out an utterly innocent whimper, as if trying to stifle the tears wracking beneath his lids. You couldn't see the devilish smile tugging at his lips, his face tightly pressed into the sand. "Allow me to make you feel good. I can make the pain go away, just let me…" His swollen head slipped in a little, forcing a shattered moan from your throat.
"Wait!" You tried to crawl away, but he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades. Keeping you tight in place, with his massive body fully resting on yours.
"It's okay, my love. It won't hurt, I promise," he hummed, another hand massaging the swell of your hips. Spreading your drenched folds a bit farther to see the tip of his cock getting sucked by your weeping cunt. "My Goddess, don't make her wait any longer. She's just wishing to get fucked, ahh."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your hips from slamming against his. As, dearest heavens, the way his sole head stretched your cunt brought an unparalleled, maddened pleasure, bubbling deep inside your belly. The pledge you made re chastity was trying to fight the aroused, lustful thoughts. The thick, warm fog that made your body liquefy beneath his touch, and your mind go all hot.
"My virginity–" You started, yet Satoru quickly snapped back.
"I talked to my sister, love. She won't punish you," he whispered, leaning down to lick a long stripe down your spine. "Because now you're mine. So say you want it, hm? Say you want me to fuck your tight cunt and fill her up."
He bit, licked, kissed your skin, while slowly, oh so painfully slow, poking your drenched hole.
"Just the tip, my love," he whispered, brushing away a few strands of hair hiding your lovely side. "I don't want to hurt you, my Goddess. I'll slip just a little tip."
And with an arousal fogging your mind, you nodded. Forcing a wicked laugh past his plush lips as he kissed your cheek.
"Mhm, that's right, my love," his cock slid through your tight walls, snugging inside your plush warmth. "Oh fuck, my Goddess, you truly are a fucking virgin."
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling his heavy cock slip into your belly. It was anything but the tip, forcing a sudden burst of tears to roll down your cheeks.
The pain mixed with pleasure as his shaft forced its way deep inside your pussy. You could feel every pulsing vein throbbing against your walls, the pumped head smooching your sweet spot, as he pushed and pushed, while pressing your body to the sand.
A moany cry bounced pitifully off the crystal waves before he quickly rolled you again.
This time, your back hit the sand, thighs folding up to your chest.
And when you looked up at his face… oh.
The Sun God hung over your crying cheeks with nothing but an utterly wicked, handsome smile. Eyes shining beneath the cold moon, adding to their ocean-blue hues a kiss of sin. He giggled, kissing the single tear that soaked your cheek.
And an angel, no, rather a demon, keeping you in his tight, possessed embrace.
Your hands pressed to his chest, as he pushed harder. "My God, you said just the tip," fell harshly, seeing a grin coiling in his gaze.
"My Goddess, you truly are ruthless," he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. "How could I ever lie to you? I'm barely in, I promise."
Yet when you tried to look down, his strong fingers grabbed your chin, keeping your eyes fixed on his.
"You don't trust me?" He pouted, peppering your skin with soft kisses. "Don't look down there, my love. Focus on me."
Your head lulled right as he bit the side of your neck. Licking, sucking on it gently, while still forcing his cock through your walls.
It wasn't just the tip, and although you should be angry, the way he kept you folded left little room for movement. With his single arm pressing your legs tight, fingers keeping your chin up, and massive, heavy body leaning on yours.
He started to move faster, faster, faster, pumping you poor, weeping cunt with his heavy cock. It hit every inch of your lower belly, brushing past the sweet spot and smooching up to the slowly swelling womb. You could feel his round head nuzzle deep inside your pulsing warmth, as your tight walls wrapped around him, as if trying to lock him in.
A low hiss slipped past his rosy lips as you cried out in painful pleasure. Your blood ran hot as he tried to fuck each drop of aphrodisiac from your veins, pushing your body deeper into the sand.
The nasty squelch bounced off the water, spilling deep into the cave and catching in your scattered hair. He brought your face back, giggling at the sight of your utterly fucked eyes.
"My beautiful Goddess," he whispered, before slipping his hand down your belly. At this point, with heat bubbling in your belly, your thighs stayed open, pressed to your chest, as if your body was freely inviting him in. "My sweet, beautiful Goddess. Tell me how good you feel."
His demand forced wrath and balmy submissiveness upon your fucked mind, and so a sweet, honest, "G-good, ahh, you're filling me s-so good," fell embarrassingly past your lips.
As no matter how much you wanted to refuse, it did feel good. Dearest, it felt amazing, handling his hefty cock fully sliding inside your warmth, till wet balls hit your lifted ass. Head kissing your womb, veins pulsing in rhythm with your plush walls, as they pushed out waves and waves of fresh cum. Coating his full length in your juices, till whenever he pulled out, a crystal thread formed between your cunt and his creamy, happy trail.
His hands kneading your softness turned your mind to balm, and fingers playing with your swollen bud forced a moan, so you truly, shamefully so, allowed your body to give in to his touch.
"My God, nghh, I'm going to–"
Before you could finish, he crashed his lips against yours. He slipped a groan deep inside your throat as he started to fuck you faster. More relentless, brutal, forcing upon your virgin cunt a strength you weren't used to.
"My God, p-please–ahhh–slow down," you cried into his lips, yet received only a low chuckle.
"I know how to make you cum, my love. Your pussy needs to be fucked properly," he licked the tears dripping down your cheeks before capturing your lips again. "You're close, hm? I can feel it in your belly."
His hands pressed to your lower pouch, feeling his cock hit the soft skin, before slipping down to your cunt. Rolling your clit in mean, squelching pinches.
"S-satoru," his name finally escaped your throat, as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. "So good, you're–ngh–filling me–ahhh."
He chuckled, seeing your lidded eyes and messy blabber falling past your lips. "I know, my Goddess, your–ahh–pussy feels so fucking good. My sweetest, I promise to take good care of you."
He hid his face in the crook of your neck before finally going still. Your back arched, nipples pressing to his chest, before a soaked cry ripped from your throat. Juices gushing all over his abdomen, cock, as he hit your womb painfully, filling it with sticky ropes of cum. Till you felt the heavy creaminess sticking to your walls, stuffing you heavily, madly full.
A filthy fog once again seeped into your mind, and for a single minute you felt your strength return to your body. For a mere moment, it allowed you to smack his fair cheek. It left him fully unfazed, with a cheeky grin still plastered to his handsome face and a low chuckle forcing its way past his lips.
"My Goddess, is that how you should treat your future husband?" he asked, then brutally turned you back onto your belly. You tried to crawl, kicking him back, but he simply smacked your ass. "Come on, my love. Don't try to fight me. If I hadn't found you, who knows who would?"
Your breath hitched when you felt his cock harden again. Still snuggling deep inside you cunt, as you felt his shaft stretch your poor, weeping walls.
"I–ahh–I fucking hate you," you snapped through gritted teeth, your hips slowly rocking against his. Whatever you'd drunk still flowed in your veins, forcing another fog over your mind. "I hate you, so, s-so–mhm Satoru, just, fuck, p-please–"
His fingers dug deep into your perked-up ass, ocean eyes glimmering at the sight of your arched back. Sweat beaded on your neck, and your teary gaze looked over your shoulder in a furious, desperate, pleading manner.
He chuckled, taking a little vial from his tattered tunic. Opening it with his teeth, he handed it your way.
"What is it?" you asked, trying to sound at least a bit suspicious.
His eyes squinted, lips turned wickedly up. "Just a simple water. You'll feel a bit better."
"Drink it first."
"You don't trust me?"
You bit down your lip, shaking your head a bit.
Satoru hummed before taking a sip of the liquid without hesitation. It seeped warmly through his body, dripping down to the burning loins.
Seeing that he truly acted normally, you took it from his fingers and drank it all in one go. But… oh.
You shot head his way, seeing nothing, but a nasty grin. "This…"
He leaned closer, pressing his hand back between your shoulder blades. His face drew nearer, then he licked your lips with his wine-sweetened tongue. "Tastes similar, my love?"
A wave of heat was rolling faster, an even stronger aphrodisiac flowing through your veins. Breathing became harder, your mind already blind, as he pushed your melted body into a deeper arch.
"I love you so much, my Goddess," he whispered, peppering your sizzling cheek. "I'll make you feel so good. So fucking good, I promise. My sweet, beautiful wife. Just trust me."
pre-relationship nerdjo texts. based on this req ! , some texts are bf nerdjo as well and one is between suguru and satoru;3 , pfp yinartss and goodgirlyume
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ — FRATBOY EREN YEAGER (and his obsession with fucking his girlfriend)
(18+) BLURB! ✩‧₊˚ frat!eren x fem!reader, college au, smut, dom!eren, praise, oral (fem!recieving), dirty talk, mating press position
you and eren, your very loving boyfriend, had been fucking for at least two hours now on and off. it started when you and him agreed to watch a movie together. some rom-com that neither of you were particularly interested in, but it was something to do together.
only twenty minutes into the movie eren started feeling you up. his large hands rested against your thigh under the blanket, long fingers reaching towards your inner thighs to squeeze. "wanna feel you," he mumbled, leaning over and planting a kiss on your neck.
eventually, with no objection from you, his face was buried in between your legs. he licked long stripes up your cunt, savoring the sweet sounds that came from your lips. he went slow at first, tongue circling your clit then taking it into his mouth to suck, shaking his head so it vibrated against you.
your hands tangled in his hair, pulling at the long brown strands to keep him right where you wanted him. "mhm yeah baby?" he said with a chuckle, pressing a firm kiss to your clit. "you want more? want me to make you feel good?"
"yes, eren please," you moaned.
eren dove back in this time with more action, practically making out with your cunt. the room filled with hot squelches and whines spilling from your lips, your legs pressing against the sides of his face. he didn't stop until you were so wet you were leaking down onto the couch cushions, a big sticky patch staining it.
he kept you pressed against the couch until you were weeping, his arms wrapping around your legs to keep you from squirming. "too much, eren," you whined, legs shaking against his hands. "mhm can't take it."
"too much?" eren asked, pressing sweet kisses to your hole. "but i haven't even used this —" he pressed his tongue inside of it, listening to you gasp. "you gonna let me use you, baby?"
you could barely speak, giving him a nod.
a sharp smack! hit your outer thigh.
"need to hear you say it," eren said, pulling his head away. "c'mon be a good girl and say it."
"yes yes, eren please use me!"
which is how you ended up here, your legs raised so high that they were up against eren's shoulders, his long torso pushing them so they were almost pressed against your face. your ankles kissed his ears like headphones.
eren was pounding into you mercilessly, your legs shaking so hard you could barely control yourself. your whole body was enveloped by him, his hair shielding your vision from looking anywhere but him.
"i can't —" you said in a small voice, hands pushing his shoulders.
eren only laughed. "why are you telling me you can't take it? don't tell me that."
"t-too big!"
he pushed your legs more towards your face, practically folding you in half. "yes you can, yes you can," he said over and over again, hips plopping against your ass making a suctioning sound. the hard ridges of his cock scraped your warm walls, pussy clenching around it, sucking him in deeper. in this position he was impossibly deep, the leaking tip of his dick kissing your cervix, making you see stars.
plop! plop! plop!
tears fell down your face, which only made him smirk, breathing hard. "you gonna cum again?" he teased. "mhm i can feel it, you're sucking me in, baby."
you moaned loudly, pussy spasming as you reached your next orgasm, practically screaming at the sensitivity. eren's hand clamped down on your mouth, stifling your moans by the palm of his hand.
"christ, gonna wake up the whole house," he chided. "is that what you want? for them to all hear how you're taking my dick? kinda rude, baby. don't want them thinking my girlfriend's such a slut."
you couldn't speak anymore, reduced to just broken moans and whimpers. your legs were out of your control completely, shaking violently. eren wouldn't let up, thrusting in and out with a punishing pace.
"you got one more, don't you? gonna keep going until you're creaming."
hi! do you have any long gojo fics? not multiple chapters or anything.
❤︎ long gojo fic recs ─── n(sfw)
𝒞 ˳ chasing cars ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@hotties4gojo⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀6k wc : this is one of my favourite canon compliant fanfictions about gojo ever, the way they write about the angst and the feeling of doom and sadness is so impeccable omg. ⏖
𝒞 ˳ pokerface ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@screampied⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀5k wc : this is a screampied fanfiction. that's all you need to know to know it's gonna be amazing, just read her whole masterlist omg. ⏖
𝒞 ˳ when did you get hot? ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@po1x3n⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀4k wc : the creator deactivated but the link leads to the fic I reblogged, it's a really good read for nerds lovers! ⏖
𝒞 ˳ end of our world ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@kingkaisen⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀11k wc : the angst and smut in this one is so insane, one of the best apocalypse fanfictions everrrr! ⏖
𝒞 ˳ king gojo ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@tonycries⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀10.3k wc : since you didn't want chapters I couldn't rec other royal Aus with multiple parts, but this fanfic by Tony is so far the best royal one shot ive read! ⏖
𝒞 ˳ stress eating has (delicious) repercussions ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@iamsoclone⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀8.8k wc : the most accurate husband!gojo fanfic ever with the most scrumptious smut and fluff, like THIS is my man ⏖
𝒞 ˳ allowed to love ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@illumeew⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀8k wc : this one is so sweet and sfw and just UGH its so canon how gojo and you would be like in high school, the ending made me cry ⏖
𝒞 ˳ the strongest fake boyfriend ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@akariro⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀13.8k wc : fake dating au's are always either a hit or miss and this one is a straight hit, it was giving kdrama core omg ⏖
𝒞 ˳ seven-forty-seven and other certainties
@sixeyesonathiel⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀12.1k wc : athiel is one of the best writers on Tumblr for gojo and this is one of her best works if you want a sfw fanfic, check out her master list! ⏖
𑣲 send ask if you want different fic recommendations, or if you want your fic to be promoted !!!! ︵ Ꮺ
hi! do you have any long gojo fics? not multiple chapters or anything.
❤︎ long gojo fic recs ─── n(sfw)
𝒞 ˳ chasing cars ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@hotties4gojo⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀6k wc : this is one of my favourite canon compliant fanfictions about gojo ever, the way they write about the angst and the feeling of doom and sadness is so impeccable omg. ⏖
𝒞 ˳ pokerface ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@screampied⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀5k wc : this is a screampied fanfiction. that's all you need to know to know it's gonna be amazing, just read her whole masterlist omg. ⏖
𝒞 ˳ when did you get hot? ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@po1x3n⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀4k wc : the creator deactivated but the link leads to the fic I reblogged, it's a really good read for nerds lovers! ⏖
𝒞 ˳ end of our world ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@kingkaisen⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀11k wc : the angst and smut in this one is so insane, one of the best apocalypse fanfictions everrrr! ⏖
𝒞 ˳ king gojo ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@tonycries⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀10.3k wc : since you didn't want chapters I couldn't rec other royal Aus with multiple parts, but this fanfic by Tony is so far the best royal one shot ive read! ⏖
𝒞 ˳ stress eating has (delicious) repercussions ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@iamsoclone⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀8.8k wc : the most accurate husband!gojo fanfic ever with the most scrumptious smut and fluff, like THIS is my man ⏖
𝒞 ˳ allowed to love ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@illumeew⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀8k wc : this one is so sweet and sfw and just UGH its so canon how gojo and you would be like in high school, the ending made me cry ⏖
𝒞 ˳ the strongest fake boyfriend ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀
@akariro⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀13.8k wc : fake dating au's are always either a hit or miss and this one is a straight hit, it was giving kdrama core omg ⏖
𝒞 ˳ seven-forty-seven and other certainties
@sixeyesonathiel⠀ ⠀ ➼ ⠀12.1k wc : athiel is one of the best writers on Tumblr for gojo and this is one of her best works if you want a sfw fanfic, check out her master list! ⏖
𑣲 send ask if you want different fic recommendations, or if you want your fic to be promoted !!!! ︵ Ꮺ
Your car breaks down right in front of the garage, and you’re already steeling yourself for the usual routine: a sky-high bill, too much time wasted, and a mechanic who barely looks up. Instead, you get Sukuna, who gets personally offended on your behalf after realizing your regular shop has been scamming you. Once he figures that out, he takes it upon himself to teach you enough to make sure it never happens again. Unfortunately for him, fixing your car is a breeze, but getting you out of his head? Not so much.
cw: mechanic!sukuna x f!reader, mostly sukuna pov, sukuna has a crush, yearning sukuna, pining sukuna, sukuna is bad at feelings, kinda slow burn
wc: 10.4k, one shot
notes: based on these two asks: first and second!
main masterlist ◦ ao3 ◦ sukuna art by @/hunnismokah
It's barely past dawn, and as Sukuna drags the shutters up, the ungodly morning air hits him with a brisk, damp chill, cooling the coffee in his hand. He’s banking on a quiet hour to sort through the mess of inventory, maybe even enjoy the silence, before the first scheduled appointment pulls him away.
Down the road, maybe a hundred meters away, hazard lights blink through the gray mist. A hatchback sits stranded on the shoulder with its hood open. You’re there beside it, looking entirely defeated, with your shoulders hunched as you rub your arms against the biting chill that cuts straight through your jacket. You're pacing in small circles, your breath blooming in white puffs that vanish into the fog.
Taking a long sip of his coffee, Sukuna watches the scene for a beat. It’s obvious that this mess is about to become somebody's problem, and with how close you are to his driveway, that somebody's him. He lets out a resigned grunt, sets the mug aside, and starts the slow, reluctant walk down the slick, dark stretch of asphalt.
By the time he gets to you, you’re prodding at the battery terminal with pure confusion, clearly out of your depth. He stops by the driver’s side fender, his shadow stretching over the engine bay and swallowing up what little light the morning offers.
"Get in and try to crank it," he rumbles, his voice still rough from sleep.
You flinch slightly, nearly dropping your keys, as you turn to find the massive mechanic who’s just materialized out of the fog. Stumbling through a rushed, embarrassed explanation about how the dashboard lit up like a christmas tree before the steering went stiff, you slide behind the wheel, fingers trembling as you twist the key. The engine coughs out a pathetic, sluggish click-click-click before dying completely.
Sukuna leans over and scans the open engine bay with narrowed eyes. He brings his hand down to the alternator, then straightens and wipes a streak of grease off on his thigh.
"Alternator's shot," he diagnoses, pinning you with a flat stare through the windshield. “It stopped charging your battery while you were driving. That's why your steering went stiff, and all those warning lights came on. Battery's flat now."
He glances down the road toward his garage, jerks his chin in that direction, then flicks his gaze back to you, waiting. "Not fixing it out here. I can tow it in and take a look, if you want.”
You blink at him, hesitation suddenly tightening your chest. He's a huge, imposing stranger with eyes that seem to see right through you. You have no clue what his garage charges, and for all you know, he’ll tow your car a few meters and hand you a bill big enough to drain your entire savings account. Biting your lip hard, you look down the foggy road toward the distant city lights, debating whether freezing out here for your usual mechanic is worth it.
"Really?" you ask, your voice thin and cautious.
"You got a better plan?" Sukuna asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He doesn't look like he's got the patience for a long deliberation this early in the morning.
Your eyes flick from the dead dashboard to the shutters of his garage down the road again. Waiting for your own mechanic could mean hours out here, and you’re already running late. Shoulders sagging, you let out a shaky, resigned sigh and nod. "No, not really. Okay, yeah. Please tow it."
True to his word, ten minutes later your car is hooked up to his truck and rolled right onto his hydraulic lift. He works quietly, hooking up a diagnostic scanner and testing the voltage. You stand on the side, nervously watching him work through the tangle of wires and metal, while the smell of old coolant and burnt oil fills the air.
Finally, he wipes his hands on his coveralls. He glances up, meeting your gaze with a flat, unreadable look before speaking. "Alright. It's definitely the alternator. Parts and labor, you're looking at around two hundred, maybe two-fifty if the belt snapped when it seized up."
He braces himself for the usual routine: the hesitant sigh, the defensive wince, maybe a drawn-out complaint about how expensive car parts are these days. He’s seen it all before, a thousand times over.
None of that happens, though. You just blink at him, completely speechless, like he’s started speaking a foreign language.
"Are you..." You swallow hard, eyes darting between your car and the man in front of you. "Are you undercharging me out of pity? Did I really look that pathetic standing on the side of the road?"
Sukuna freezes, and the rag stops mid-wipe against his palm. He stares at you, his brow knitting into a dumbfounded, deep scowl, entirely derailed by the accusation. "What? No. That's the price of the part and half an hour of my time. I don't do pity discounts.”
"Seriously?" A breathless, half-disbelieving laugh escapes you, as your hand comes up to press against your forehead while you try to make sense of the numbers. "My mechanic charges me a small fortune every time I bring this thing in. Like... last year I paid almost three hundred for an oil change, so I figured something that actually stopped the car from running would be..." You trail off, your eyes wandering up to the underside of a different car on the lift. "Honestly, I have no idea. Just… more."
Disbelief hardens his stare, and a sharp, sudden outrage flares in his chest at whoever’s been fleecing you, quickly followed by a heavy wave of disappointment. He can't quite believe you’d just hand over a small fortune for basic maintenance without so much as a second thought.
"An oil change," he repeats in a low rasp. "He charges you three hundred dollars for an oil change?"
"Well... yeah? And..." Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you wince as your sneakers squeak against the slick concrete. Your hand waves uselessly in the air when you’re trying to remember the items from the invoices you received. "Some other things? He always says there are other things."
Silence settles over the garage, broken only by the steady drip of fluid into a drainage pan nearby, each drop echoing like a ticking clock.
Sukuna tosses the rag aside, leans against the workbench and folds his arms across his chest. His eyes narrow, studying you with a look that grows more troubled by the second, like you’re some puzzle that refuses to make sense.
"You know what those other things were?"
You frown, your shoulders pulling in slightly under the weight of his intense stare. "Not really."
That stare doesn’t budge, flat and unblinking, and it makes you want to sink straight into the concrete floor.
"And you paid anyway."
It's not a question, but a flat statement, paired with a slow, disappointed shake of his head that twists your stomach.
Heat crawls up your neck, embarrassment prickling across your skin. You wrap your arms tightly around yourself defensively, trying to salvage a scrap of dignity. “He’s a mechanic, so like… why wouldn’t I trust him about… mechanic stuff?”
"So you just pay whatever he puts on the invoice?"
After a beat of hesitation, your eyes flick toward the garage exit before you force yourself to meet his gaze again. "I mean..."
The irritation in him doesn’t fade; if anything, it settles in deeper. The more you talk, the clearer it gets that this wasn’t just one bad invoice. It’s a pattern.
"How long you been taking your car to this guy?"
A startled blink, caught off guard by the rapid-fire questioning. "A few years?"
A muscle jumps in his cheek as his jaw flexes. "Christ." His arms drop, one hand coming up to rest flat against the workbench behind him. "You don't know anything about cars, do you?"
You open your mouth, ready to stammer out some flimsy defense, but he cuts you off with a sharp, impatient wave.
"No, don't answer that." He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. "I already know." When he lowers his hand, his expression darkens. "And he knows it too. That's the problem." He takes a slow step toward you, his towering height making the small garage feel instantly crowded. "He knows you don't know what you're looking at. He knows you won’t question the invoice. He knows you’ll just nod, pull out your card, and pay whatever number he pulls out of thin air."
His words hit with bruising accuracy, uncomfortable in their honesty. Swallowing hard, you feel the bitter reality of years of being scammed settle like a stone in your stomach. Sukuna clicks his tongue, the sharp, dismissive sound echoing off the concrete walls.
"And he's been taking advantage of it, overcharging the hell out of you.” He shakes his head again, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "It's disgusting."
—
The last clink of metal fades, giving way to the low, steady purr of your car’s engine. Sukuna lingers, listening to the alternator hum, his attention fixed on the sound until he’s sure everything is running just right. Only then does he cut the ignition and shut the hood.
At the sink, he scrubs at the thickest layer of grease on his hands and forearms, while each pass of the soap gives him a moment to stew. The whole time he’d been working on your hatchback, the audacity of your last mechanic kept simmering in the back of his mind, needling at his sense of professionalism and refusing to let go.
He dries his hands on a clean rag, then heads back to where you’re waiting by the office door. The invoice comes off the clipboard, and he holds it out to you along with your keys.
"Alright, you're good to go," he rumbles, his voice level and calm. "It was just the alternator. Parts and labor came out to two hundred, exactly like I said."
You take the keys and the paper, relief washing over you as your eyes land on the total. Exactly what he quoted. No hidden fees, no sneaky line items, no surprise charges, nothing lurking in the fine print.
Sukuna stands there, his large hands settling loosely on his hips. His gaze flicks from your face to the paperwork in your hands, brow furrowing slightly as he hesitates. Then, the words slip out before he can stop them.
“If you want, you can bring your old receipts by sometime. Dig 'em out of your glovebox or whatever." He clears his throat, the sudden offer surprising even him as it leaves his mouth. This isn’t something he does. He doesn’t take work home, and he sure as hell doesn’t do clerical charity for strangers. Still, he pushes through the awkwardness, keeping his tone flat and businesslike. "I’ll look through 'em and write down what you actually should have been paying for that basic stuff. That way you have a baseline reference sheet next time you go back to your guy, and you'll know if he's trying to pull a fast one."
There's no pressure behind his words. He leaves it entirely up to you, offering a casual favor simply because he despises seeing someone get taken advantage of.
You blink at him, completely caught off guard. You look up to his face, and gratitude cuts through your usual wall of caution.
"Really?" you ask, a soft smile breaking across your face. "You'd actually do that?"
Sukuna gives a short, dismissive shrug, shifting his weight like he’s trying to play down the gesture. "Takes me ten minutes. It's no big deal."
"Thank you. Seriously, that’s... incredibly nice of you," you say, genuinely touched by the gesture. You fold the invoice carefully, tucking it into your purse. "What day would work best for you? I don't want to interrupt your business."
Sukuna rubs the back of his neck, eyes drifting toward the calendar tacked to the garage wall as he does the math in his head. "Day after tomorrow," he decides, looking back down at you. "I usually wrap up around six. Come by then. The shop's quiet after hours."
"Six on Wednesday. Perfect," you nod, your smile widening slightly. "Thank you again. I really appreciate you fixing the car so fast, and for... well, everything else. I'll see you Wednesday."
"Yeah," he mutters, his voice dropping a fraction softer as he nods back. "See you then. Drive safe."
He stands in the open bay, watching as your hatchback backs out of the driveway and pulls into the morning traffic. Only when your taillights disappear down the street does he finally let out a low breath, turning back to his tools and wondering what possessed him to volunteer his free time to look at old paperwork.
——
Just like he promised, the shop is mostly quiet when you pull up to the garage on Wednesday. With the bay doors rolled halfway down, the usual street noise is muffled, leaving only the clink of a wrench against metal to let you know he’s still inside.
Pushing open the side door, you’re greeted by the soft chime of the bell overhead. Sukuna appears from the back a moment later, dragging a clean rag over his forearms. His crimson eyes catch yours before flicking down to the stack of papers in your hand and the box tucked securely under your arm.
"You actually found 'em," he rumbles, a faint quirk tugging at the corner of his mouth before his expression smooths back into that usual, unreadable mask.
"Every single one I could find." Stepping up to the high counter that separates the office from the shop floor, you set the invoices down and nudge the box toward him, careful not to jostle what’s inside. "And I brought this. As a thank you."
Sukuna glances down at the cardboard box but doesn’t reach for it. He folds his arms across his chest, and his brow instantly furrows into a stubborn, defensive scowl.
"I don't need cake," he snaps, voice blunt and dismissive. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than accepting a gift. "I fixed the alternator, you paid the invoice. We're even. You don't owe me anything."
"It's not cake. It’s an apple pie. And it’s homemade," you counter softly. Before he can get another word in, you reach out and pop the lid open, letting the sweet scent of baked apples and cinnamon spill into the grimy, oil-scented room. You shoot him a small, stubborn look that dares him to refuse. "And you're taking it."
For a split second, Sukuna freezes, his eyes darting from the warm pie back up to your face, looking completely out of his depth. The tension drains from his broad shoulders, and he lets out a low, grudging grunt, realizing he’s being difficult for no good reason.
"Fine," he mutters, reaching over. He grabs the box and carries it to the small, cluttered desk in the corner, sweeping aside a stack of part catalogs to clear a spot. Pausing, he peeks into the box again, then nudges a metal stool toward the desk for you with his boot. "Sit down. Let me wash up."
While he heads over to the sink to scrub the grit from his hands, you pull the pie out of the box. Only as you glance around the cluttered office does the realization hit you. You look down at the pie, still warm in its baking dish, then at your empty hands.
When Sukuna walks back in, drying his hands on a paper towel, he finds you perched on the stool, mortification written all over your face.
"Um," you manage, cheeks burning with embarrassment that creeps up. "I just realized... I forgot plates. And forks. I was so focused on getting the pie out of the oven and not showing up late that I didn't even think about it."
Sukuna stops, staring at your flushed face, and a slow, amused smirk tugs at his lips. He opens a filing cabinet, rummages through a plastic bin in the top drawer, and pulls out two plastic forks he clearly hoarded from a takeout order.
"Don't worry about it," he says, dragging a second stool over and settling in beside you. One fork is pressed into your hand, while he plunges his own straight into the pie, breaking off a steaming chunk. "We can eat it out of the dish. Problem solved."
A relieved laugh slips out as you take a bite for yourself. The pie is actually good—better than you hoped and the relief from that is almost dizzying. Watching this massive, intimidating mechanic quietly savor a dessert you’ve made in his own garage fills you with a sudden, unexpected warmth.
A few bites in, Sukuna reaches for the stack of invoices you brought along. He fishes a battered yellow highlighter from the drawer, uncapping it with his teeth, and drags the first sheet closer. Instantly, his whole demeanor sharpens, focus narrowing as he scans the lines of text.
"Two hundred for an air filter?" he mutters, jaw clenching so fast you can almost hear his teeth grind. Flipping the page back a little too sharply, he scans the top of the sheet, eyes narrowing. "When was this?"
"Last… three months, I think?" you offer, leaning in to peer over his elbow, the edge of his sleeve brushing your arm.
"Three months ago," he confirms, voice dropping into a dangerously low, tight register. The highlighter clicks against the paper, and a muscle jumps in his cheek. "I looked at your air filter on Monday when I was checking the belt. There is absolutely no way a filter looks that bad after ninety days of city driving. He didn't even change it. He just wrote it down and charged you for the part."
Your fork stalls halfway to your mouth. Staring at the highlighted line, you feel disbelief crash over you, cold and sharp, prickling along your skin.
"Wait... what? He just... left the old one in there?" You shrink down on your stool, while both embarrassment and genuine offense burn in your chest. "I actually remember sitting in his waiting room for an hour because he said he had to go fetch the specific part from the back warehouse."
Sukuna lets out a sharp, cynical grunt that cuts through the room and makes you wince. "Yeah. He was probably back there taking a nap on your dime." He flips to the next invoice and scoffs loudly. "A hundred and fifty for a 'diagnostic fee'? Your car doesn't even have a complex computer system. You plug the reader in, it takes two minutes. He's padding the numbers because he knows you’re not gonna question it.”
You blink, eyes glued to the number on the page, the math slowly ticking through your head. "Two minutes... for a hundred and fifty...?"
He’s working himself up again, but his eyes keep flicking to you, making sure you’re following every step of his explanation on why it's a scam. He breaks down the mechanics in plain English, laying out the real labor time versus what was billed, and you find yourself keeping pace with him, asking about parts, checkup schedules, and why on earth a single fluid could ever cost that much.
Sukuna’s highlighter hovers over a line, pausing as he takes in the questions you’re firing back at him. Whatever assumption he had about you being gullible is gone now. He sees you're not stupid or careless, just someone who did what anyone would: you trusted a professional because you didn’t have the background to know better. The way you’re sitting here, eagerly learning, determined to protect yourself, earns a flicker of respect in his eyes.
"You're tracking this fine," he says, irritation melting away into something unexpectedly gentle. "You just needed someone to actually layout the baseline for you."
"Yeah," you murmur, smiling a little self-consciously. "Nobody ever really explained it before."
Any trace of your nervousness has vanished. Settled into his office, you absentmindedly swing your legs beneath the stool, taking another bite. Eating straight from the baking tin, you instinctively leave the best pieces of crust for him. It’s a small, polite habit that doesn’t go unnoticed, and Sukuna finds it oddly endearing.
Powdered sugar dusts your thumb as you hold the dish steady while digging your fork in again, and without thinking, you lick it off while scanning an invoice. The gesture is so unselfconscious, so normal, but it catches his attention and draws his gaze to your face.
This close, he can’t help but notice the small things: the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you’re focused on the paperwork, the little smile that appears each time you taste the pie, how small you look perched beside him. For a moment, his mind just goes completely blank.
The realization hits him square in the chest—you’re beautiful. And you went out of your way to bake a pie for him.
All at once, the office starts to smell different. The sharp tang of oil and metal slips away, replaced by the sweetness of apple and cinnamon, and beneath it all, your perfume.
You point to a line on the invoice, but his attention drifts to your hand resting next to his on the desk. His own fingers are thick and calloused; yours look impossibly soft and small by comparison. The urge to see how your hand would feel in his is so distracting he nearly loses track of what you were saying.
For a moment, the usually unshakeable and confident mechanic is thrown completely off balance, his thoughts tangling so fast he almost forgets what he’s supposed to be doing. Somehow, he keeps his face neutral, handling the rest of the paperwork with a steady voice, but underneath, panic is already clawing at him. He has no clue how he’s supposed to get your number before you walk out that door.
Hesitation or tentativeness have never been his style. If he wants something, he takes it; if he likes someone, he just tells them. It’s always been that simple. But with you leaning over his desk, a crumb of crust clinging to the corner of your mouth, something unfamiliar creeps in and stiffens his limbs. It isn't shyness—he doesn’t have a shy bone in his body, and he certainly doesn't embarrass easily. Still, this strange, careful caution settles in his bones, making every movement feel intentional and new.
For once, he actually cares about the reaction he’s going to get, and that shift in the stakes makes his usual straightforwardness feel too rough, too heavy-handed for this. The thought that messing this up could mean never seeing you again roots him to the spot, every instinct to act suddenly tangled up in hesitation. His hands feel too big, his words too blunt, and the risk of screwing this up presses in until he feels almost clumsy.
Ideas tumble through his head, each one worse than the last, none of them good enough. Sliding his business card across the desk? Too impersonal, like he’s just angling for another job. Handing over his phone and asking you to put your number in? That’s too aggressive, too much like he’s trying to corner you in his own shop. Even making up some excuse about needing to text you a follow-up on the alternator warranty feels cheap, and the idea of playing a game just to get your number makes him feel ridiculous.
The whole thing leaves a sour taste in his mouth, every option making him feel more foolish than the last. Frustration builds until his jaw aches from how tightly he’s been clenching it, tension crawling up into his temples. He can’t remember the last time he was this stuck on something so simple.
At last, he forces his jaw to unclench, loosening his grip on the highlighter before setting it down. Glancing around the cramped office, something cuts straight through his frustration. Here you are, sitting in a garage after hours with a man twice your size you barely know, just because he offered to help. You trusted him enough to walk into his shop after closing, carrying a homemade pie as a thank-you that feels so genuine it almost hurts.
The last thing he wants, and the absolute last thing his pride will allow, is to make you feel like he used a professional angle just to corner you. If he pushes for your number now, after spending an hour showing you how vulnerable you’ve been to a scam, it’ll feel like an ambush. It’ll undo every bit of safety you felt sitting next to him and ruin any chance he might have had. The thought hits him like a splash of cold water, cooling his temper.
Drawing in a sharp breath, Sukuna reaches past you for a pen resting on the clipboard. He pulls the top invoice toward him and scrawls his phone number across the margin of the page.
"Look," he rumbles, his voice steady and stripped of the chaos in his head, sliding the stack of paperwork back across the desk to you. "You're gonna have to find a new shop now or keep dealing with that idiot down the road. If he—or anyone else—hands you a quote and it feels even a little bit off, you text a photo of the invoice to that number." He taps his thick thumb against the handwritten digits on the page. "That's my personal cell. I’ll look at it and tell you if they’re trying to rip you off."
Blinking down at the paper, you’re completely oblivious to the war he just waged with himself. The gesture is so unexpectedly kind that warmth blooms in your chest and a soft smile tugs at your lips as you glance back up at him. "Are you sure? I don't want to bother you any more than I already did."
"It's not a bother," he mutters, keeping his face carefully blank even as his pulse hammers a little harder against his ribs. "Just think of it as a backup plan. I can't stand watching people get scammed."
"That… actually makes me feel a lot better. I’ll make sure to save it," you murmur, glancing up to meet his unreadable gaze. The papers fold neatly beneath your fingers before you tuck them into your bag and rise from the stool. "Thank you. Seriously. For the alternator, the invoices, all the explanation and… for the company."
"Yeah," he mutters, his throat suddenly tight as he gives a single, gruff nod. "Don't sweat it."
Once your empty baking dish is tucked back into the box, you offer him one last warm smile that squeezes his chest uncomfortably tight. He pushes himself up to walk you to the door, the bell above your head chiming bright as you step out into the cool evening air.
"Goodnight, Sukuna."
"Goodnight," he calls back, standing entirely still as he watches you walk toward your car.
The warmth lingering in the office vanishes, leaving only a cold, hollow ache in its place. Through the glass, Sukuna watches your car start up, headlights slicing through the dusk as you ease out of the driveway and disappear around the corner. The instant your taillights blink out, frustration slams into him, heavy and relentless.
"Damn it," he barks into the empty shop, slamming his hand flat against the workbench.
Never in his life has he felt this powerless. Control is what he prides himself on—knowing exactly how a machine or a situation will play out because he’s the one steering it. But right now? He’s handed over his only leverage, left the whole gamble in your hands, and the lack of control is enough to make him want to tear his hair out.
He has no name saved in his phone, no confirmation. Nothing. He’s got no way to reach you, which means he’s stuck waiting, and everything now hangs on whether you decide to text. What if you lose that paper? What if the number gets buried in your purse and you forget about it until your car dies again months from now? What if you just think he was being polite and have no intention of ever using it?
The weight of not knowing gnaws at him, driving him to pace the shop floor, muttering curses under his breath for being so damn careful.
Two hours later, fresh from the shower, he sinks into the couch with a cold beer he hasn’t even opened yet. Usually, Sukuna finds the quiet of his apartment a relief after a day spent surrounded by noise, but tonight the silence feels heavy and irritating.
His phone lies face-up on the coffee table. By ten, he’s already picked it up and set it down more times than he cares to admit, each glance met with nothing but the glow of the lock screen and the relentless crawl of minutes. By eleven, frustration curdles into something uglier—doubt.
Doubt isn’t something he’s ever felt before, but alone in the dark, his mind starts tearing apart every second of that hour you spent in his office. The memory of your shoulder brushing his lingers. He can still hear your laugh when you realized you’d forgotten the plates, see how easily you followed his explanations, and how you smiled. He’d been so sure there was something there. He’d bet on it.
But as midnight approaches without a single vibration, his thoughts twist, turning defensive and sharp. Maybe he’d read the whole thing wrong. His brow knots as a heavy, sour thought appears and settles right in his gut. You didn’t feel a connection. You were just being polite, bringing an apple pie to thank a mechanic for doing his job. Sitting on that stool, chatting with him, you were just well-mannered, not interested. He’d blown it all out of proportion, let himself believe there was a spark when, to you, he was just the guy who fixed your alternator and handed out some advice.
—
Sukuna arrives at the shop in the worst mood humanly possible. Sleep barely touched him last night, and whatever patience he might have had for the rest of the world has been ground down to nothing.
Fingers curling around the cold iron handles, he wrenches the shutters up, and metal slams against the top of the frame so hard the glass windows in the office rattle. Not that he gives a damn. His jacket lands carelessly on the hook as he storms inside, and the paper coffee cup hits the workbench hard, sloshing the dark liquid over the plastic lid. It tastes like battery acid, but he drinks it anyway, needing the bitterness to match what’s inside of his chest.
He sets his personal phone right at the edge of the workbench, telling himself it’s just so it won’t get crushed in his pocket while he works. He knows that’s bullshit. Each time he reaches for a tool or crosses the bay for another socket, his gaze flicks back to the black screen, searching for a flicker of light that stubbornly refuses to appear.
Around nine, the shop's cell rings, echoing through the empty bay. Sukuna’s heart lurches, a ridiculous, frantic leap before his brain can rein it in—maybe you lost his number but found the shop’s online. The wrench clatters to the floor as he strides into the office, snatching the phone off the desk with a grip that’s just a little too tight.
“Ryomen’s Automotive," he grunts, his voice a rough, impatient gravel.
"Hey, man, just checking if you got those brake pads in for the pickup?"
Disappointment slams into him right beneath his ribs. His jaw locks, knuckles whitening around the mobile. "Yeah. They’re here. Come get 'em," he snaps, hanging up before the customer can get another word in.
Storming back into the bay, he grabs up his phone and shoves it deep into his pocket, as if that’ll keep the urge to check it all the time. The impact gun roars as he goes after a stubborn lug nut, the booming racket finally loud enough to drown out the chaos in his head. That’s it. He’s done checking. If you haven’t texted by now, you’re not going to. You probably tossed the paper, and he needs to get over it.
By one, Sukuna is elbow-deep in the greasy undercarriage of an old sedan, forearms streaked with black smears, his expression locked in a scowl so forbidding that even the delivery drivers have been giving him a wide berth all day.
He’s just reaching for a torque wrench when his phone vibrates on the workbench.
Bzzzt.
The sudden vibration catches him off guard, freezing him mid-reach. For a moment, he doesn’t move at all, letting the faint clicks of the cooling engine overhead fill the silence. It’s probably just spam, he tells himself. Or some useless data plan alert. Or a wrong number.
Peeling off his gloves, he slides a hand into his pocket, pulls out the phone, and swipes the screen awake. There’s a text from an unknown number—except the first line of the preview makes his chest seize up.
[You]: Hey! Sorry for the late text, I didn't want to bother you last night since it was way too late. Just wanted to send this so you have my contact too. Thanks again for looking through those invoices with me, the pie was a small price to pay for saving my bank account!
Relief hits him in a bone-deep wave, draining the tension from his shoulders. He draws in a slow breath as he stares at the words glowing on the screen. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up and register the gap between his own spiraling and your ridiculously polite message. You were just being considerate, that’s all.
OH THANK FUCK.
Clearing his throat, he uses a clean patch of his forearm to wipe the grease off his thumb before he even thinks about typing. Something clever would be good, something that proves he’s not rattled by any of this, but his fingers feel thick and awkward on the keys. Finally, he settles for something short that won’t give him away.
[Sukuna]: No worries. Pie was great, by the way. Just let me know if you get any more of those invoices.
He taps send, eyes glued to the delivery confirmation, then instantly adds the number to his contacts. Your name appears at the top of the chat, and for the first time all day, a smirk tugs at his mouth, breaking through the hard set of his jaw.
The phone disappears back into his pocket, and he turns to the sedan on the lift, with a jolt of energy running through him. As he grabs his wrench, the reality of the situation hits him from a completely different angle: you texted just to be polite and acknowledge the professional favor, and he just capped his own response by telling you to let him know if you get more invoices, boxing himself right back into being the helpful mechanic. Now what? How is he supposed to ask you out without trampling all over the boundaries you just so carefully respected?
By Friday night, that pitiful text thread on Sukuna’s phone has become a full-blown obsession. Sitting on a kitchen stool, he ignores the bowl of dinner going cold on the counter, his attention fixed on the glow of his screen. The chat is as embarrassingly short as it was the previous day: your polite thank-you, then his own awkward reply about the pie.
With a low, frustrated rumble in the empty apartment, he taps the empty text box. He’s never had to plan a conversation in his life, but suddenly, the weight of actually caring what you think drags every word through mud.
Hey, you free this weekend?
He glares at the six words. The line looks all wrong, like something a teenager would send on a dating app, hovering over his phone, waiting around for a girl he barely knows to throw him a bone. Sukuna is a grown man; he doesn't do vague, open-ended checking-in. And if you say no, or tell him you have plans, that’s it. Conversation over. No way to push back without looking like a desperate idiot.
Worse, you texted him because he'd offered to help with invoices, not because you'd expected him to use your number for anything else. With a heavy, irritated sigh, he holds down the backspace key until the box is wiped clean.
Saturday evening drags in after a brutal ten-hour shift, wrestling with stubborn leaf springs and rusted exhaust bolts. As he’s slumped on his couch with a cold beer in his hand, his muscles ache, but his mind is still stuck on the same loop. He pulls out his phone again and opens the chat. All he needs is an excuse—something car-related, since that’s the only ground you both actually somewhat share.
Let me know if that alternator’s making any noise.
His thumb freezes before he can hit send, and he scowls at the message, a sharp spike of professional irritation cutting through the haze. If the alternator was making noise, that would mean he’d screwed up the belt tension. He knows it’s perfect. He checked it twice before you left the bay. Asking about it now is basically calling his own work sloppy, and his pride won’t let him insult himself just to get a text back. With a shake of his head, he deletes the line and takes a long pull from his beer, trying to rework the phrasing, still clinging to the car angle but making it less about his own hands.
Make sure you check your oil this week.
He drags his hand over his face, catching himself immediately. If he sends that, he’s just barking orders at a customer who already admitted she doesn’t know a thing about cars. It sounds bossy, too gruff, and leaves you nothing to say except a flat agreement.
"What the fuck am I doing?"
He clears the text box again and tosses the phone face down onto the cushion beside him, ready to bang his head on the wall.
Monday night is the worst. The silence of the last few days feels like a personal insult. Standing by his kitchen window, looking out at the dark street, he’s completely fed up with his own uncharacteristic hesitation. He’s Sukuna. He doesn’t sit around overthinking a three-line message like some awkward kid. Enough. He’ll just give it to you straight, no games or professional excuses. He snatches the phone off the counter and types, fingers jabbing at the screen.
I'm heading to the diner by my shop for lunch tomorrow. Come with me.
He stares at the message, breathing heavier as his thumb hovers over the blue arrow. For a split second, he almost hits it. But then your reaction flashes through his mind—opening your phone and seeing a blunt lunch demand from the mechanic who fixed your car last week, suddenly wondering whether the man who seemed so put-together had been working an angle the whole time.
"No. That's fucking creepy."
He’s completely trapped by his own respect for you, stuck suffering the consequences of having zero organic reason to reach out. He can rebuild a transmission blindfolded, but figuring out how to move a text thread from professional advice to I want to see your face again without being an asshole? That breaks his brain entirely.
A low, bitter curse slips out as he clears the message. He throws the phone onto the kitchen table, furious that one person has managed to jam his gears so completely without even lifting a finger.
“Pathetic,” he mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
By Tuesday afternoon, the frustration has cooled into a quiet, stubborn determination. Leaning against the workbench during a lull in the shop, he stares at your name in his contacts. One more try to find a middle ground that feels natural but actually gives him an opening.
Found another complaint about that shop online. Thought you’d wanna see it.
Sukuna deletes it before he even finishes the sentence, dragging his hand down his face. Thought you’d wanna see it. He sounds like he’s trying way too hard to find an excuse to talk to you. It’s not a lie, but he’d rather die than let you catch on.
"For fuck's sake."
By Wednesday afternoon, Sukuna’s completely done with himself, and he’s become absolutely insufferable to be around. Leaning against the tool board, he glares at the calendar pinned crookedly to the office wall, his thumb drumming a relentless rhythm against his thigh.
Every scenario he plays out in his head ends with him looking like an idiot. If he’s going to make a move, it has to be on his own terms, in his own space, where he actually knows what the hell he’s doing. Turning back to his tools, he forces himself not to spiral into another round of pointless drafts. Finally, his mind clears—he doesn’t need a smooth pickup line. He just needs a real, professional reason to get you back in the garage. Maintenance. That’s it.
I’m closing up the shop tomorrow around 6. If you wanna swing by, I can show you how to check your fluids and oil so you aren’t just guessing. No worries if you’re busy.
He stares at the message for a moment. There. Completely professional. Nobody in their right mind could mistake that for flirting. Another second passes. Perfectly reasonable text to send a customer.
With that, his thumb slams the send button, heart thudding stupidly against his ribs. The phone disappears deep into his pocket as he turns back to his tools, pulse racing, completely irritated by his own anticipation and already hooked on the slow, torturous wait for your reply.
Meanwhile, you’re at home, finally sinking into the couch after a long day, when your phone buzzes against the coffee table. His name flashes across the screen, and your heart gives a small, unexpected flutter. You read his invitation twice, and a soft smile tugs at your lips. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you tap out your reply, keeping it light and trying to match his tone:
[You]: I'd love to! Need me to bring anything? (I promise I'll actually remember the plates this time if there's food involved!)
Down in the garage, Sukuna’s been organizing the same shelf of oil filters for the last four minutes, trying to distract himself, when his pocket finally vibrates. He freezes mid-reach. He deliberately finishes placing the last filter on the rack, forcing himself to move at a normal pace, refusing to look like a lunatic to his own reflection. Only then does he step back, dig out his phone, and unlock the screen.
Reading your text, the tight, stubborn knot in his chest unravels all at once. Relief hits so fast it’s almost dizzying, and a rush of heat crawls up his neck. You didn't say no. You didn't find an excuse, you didn't think it was weird, and you explicitly said you'd love to come back. And that little joke about the plates instantly crumbles the remaining walls of his stubborn frustration.
A massive, genuinely victorious smirk spreads across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners as a low, rough chuckle rumbles out of his chest. Energy surges through him, ridiculous and electric, like he’s just rebuilt a blown engine in record time.
Then his gaze snags on that last sentence, and his thumb freezes over the keyboard.
Food. You’re asking about bringing food.
For you, it’s testing the waters for a little more time together. But to him, it's enough to send his thoughts careening straight off the rails of the maintenance lesson and into a chaotic spiral of logistics. Does he buy something? Does he tell you to bring something? If he says no, does that mean you’ll just learn how to check a dipstick and drive away immediately after? He doesn't want you to leave. He wants you back on that metal stool, right where he can see you.
Pacing a short line next to the workbench, he types out a response, frowning as he slams straight into a wall of overthinking that’s completely foreign to him: I’ll grab some burgers. No, that’s too much like a date. Don't worry about food. No, that sounds like he doesn't want to eat with you at all. Or worse, you’ll eat before you come, and he’ll miss his chance entirely.
Frustrated with his own hesitation, he deletes the drafts, grunts, and decides to handle it the only way he knows how: blunt and completely practical.
[Sukuna]: Just bring the car. I’ll order a pizza. Pepperoni alright?
He hits send, tossing the phone back onto the bench with a sharp exhale. The message is demanding, a little aggressive, and leaves zero room for negotiation. Still, it guarantees you're staying for dinner.
A wide grin splits his face as he spins around and surveys his empty shop, eyes scanning the bays with sudden, critical focus. Twenty-four hours. That’s all he’s got to make sure his office looks halfway respectable before you walk through the door.
—
Rolling into the gravel driveway with five minutes to spare, you idle near the entrance just as the side door swings open and Sukuna steps out into the cool evening air. He’s in a plain black tee stretched across his broad shoulders and dark grey sweatpants. The change catches your eye immediately because he looks ridiculously good out of his coveralls. You can’t help but wonder if the wardrobe swap was just a coincidence, or if he actually cared about making a good impression tonight.
He walks over to the front of your car, waving his hand to guide you forward. "Bring it straight into the second bay," he calls out.
Following his gesture, you shift into drive and ease the car forward into the bay. The engine clicks softly when you shut it off, and as you step out, Sukuna’s already at the front bumper, nodding at you.
“You’ve made it," he rumbles, stepping up to pop the latch and lift your hood into place with a practiced, heavy thud.
"Told you I would," you say, glancing over the open engine bay with curiosity. "So, where are we starting? Am I going to get entirely covered in grime?"
Sukuna lets out a low, amused huff, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and pivots toward the rolling tool cabinet. "Not if I can help it."
He reaches into a cardboard box on top of the cart and pulls out a pair of thin, black single-use gloves. His size is impossible to ignore when he steps in close, suddenly crowding the space, and hands them over.
"Put these on first," he instructs, his gaze locking onto yours for a heartbeat. "The alternator's fresh, but everything else under that hood isn’t. No reason for you to ruin your hands."
You take the gloves, smoothing the black rubber over your wrists before looking up at him with a playful smile, tilting your head. "Very thoughtful. I didn't think a tough mechanic like you cared about a little dirt."
"I don't care about it on me," Sukuna mutters. His eyes linger on your hands for a second before he jerks his gaze back down at the engine bay, clears his throat, and points into the tangled mess of metal and hoses. "Alright, come here. We’re skipping the basic fluid check—you’re smart enough to know how to read a dipstick. I want to show you more interesting stuff."
Stepping in close, you slide the gloves over your hands, your shoulder brushing his for just a second. It's barely a touch, but enough to make both of you hyper-aware of the space you share.
"See this belt right here?" Sukuna asks, leaning over the grille. His deep voice drops into a steady, confident cadence as he gets into his element. "This is your serpentine belt. In case someone tells you it’s about to snap, I'll show you how to check the tension yourself, and how to spot actual dry rot versus regular wear."
He tugs on his own gloves, then reaches down. He navigates the cramped space around the engine block with ease, and you find yourself briefly distracted by the contrast between the size of his hands, the precision of the movements, and how gentle they look as he grips the heavy rubber belt. Then, with a twist, he exposes the underside to the light.
"Get your hand in right here," he says, glancing sideways at you, his eyes dark and intense in the low light. "Feel the edge of the rubber. Tell me what you notice."
For the next hour, Sukuna guides you through a standard oil change, patiently talking you through each step. He doesn't do the work for you; he has you reach beneath the chassis with a socket wrench to feel the exact point of resistance on the oil pan drain plug, his hand covering yours to adjust the angle, explaining the difference between a secure seal and stripped threads.
When he shows you a spark plug, he holds the tiny ceramic piece beneath the shop light, pointing out the faint color differences that separate a healthy engine from one that's burning fuel too rich.
All the while, Sukuna stays at your shoulder, keeping you grounded. Each time your gloved fingers falter over a stubborn clamp or an unfamiliar valve, his hand is there, nudging your wrist or guiding it with a confidence that makes it impossible to feel foolish. He answers every question thoroughly without a hint of impatience, pleased with your curiosity. By the time you peel the gloves from your hands, the machinery that once felt so intimidating is just a puzzle you’ve learned how to solve, and the satisfaction settles deep in your chest.
A sudden chime of the office bell cuts through the quiet, shattering the spell. Sukuna pulls his hand back from the engine block, his head snapping toward the front door.
"Pizza's here,” he rasps.
He strips off the gloves, tossing them in the trash before heading to the glass door to pay the delivery guy. You follow suit, peeling yours off and grabbing the plates you stashed in your trunk earlier. Stepping into the dim office, you find Sukuna already setting the steaming pizza box dead center on his desk.
"Look at that," you tease softly, sliding the plates onto the desk. "Real plates this time."
Sukuna glances down at them, and a faint, genuinely amused smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
"Fancy," he mutters, eyes flicking up to catch yours for a split second before his hand moves to the cardboard lid. “Bringing the good stuff to a garage."
The moment he flips the lid open, the rich, savory scent of hot cheese and pepperoni floods the room, instantly smothering the stubborn trace of motor oil that still clings to the air. He slides a massive, steaming slice onto your plate before grabbing one for himself. "Eat up before it gets cold."
For the first twenty minutes, conversation just flows easily, and to his immense relief, not a single word about car parts comes up. You ask about the shop, how long he’s been running it, and whether he always wanted to be a mechanic. He tells you how he likes working with his hands, how machines make sense in a way people never do, because if something’s broken, there’s always a reason, and always a fix.
After a while, Sukuna starts tossing questions your way. One answer leads to another, and before long you're deep in a story about that trainwreck project at work and the latest chaos your friends managed to stir up over the weekend. He doesn’t interrupt, his crimson eyes fixed on your face, watching your eyes crinkle with laughter, how your hands sketch wild shapes in the air, and the tiny smile that sneaks out when you mention your friends.
Some part of him is convinced this should be awkward. Or, at the very least, harder than this. But it feels completely natural, and before he knows it, he’s talking more than he ever does. And that’s exactly when the invisible trap closes right back around his throat.
Ask her, his mind orders, the thought landing in his chest with a sudden, heavy thud. Eight words. Do you want to go out with me? Just say the damn words.
You finish your slice and lean back a little on your stool, thumb brushing a stray crumb from your lower lip without thinking.
Do it now. She's sitting right here. She likes talking to you. Just open your stupid mouth and ask for a real date.
Sukuna shifts his weight on the metal stool as his large hand tightens around his napkin.
Don't be a coward. It's a question, not a marriage proposal.
He opens his mouth, but his throat locks up tight. He isn't actually afraid of hearing the word no—he has plenty of pride, but a rejection wouldn't break him. What paralyzes him is the fiercely protective boundary he’s drawn around you in his own head.
And then what? She realizes the mechanic who helped her has been working an angle the whole time?
He’s desperately trying not to abuse the trust he’s built with you. The sheer weight of wanting to keep this clean and respectable for your sake completely jams his gears.
"Hey," he blurts out anyway, his voice a little rough, cutting right through the middle of whatever you were saying.
You pause, blinking at him with curious eyes. "Hm?"
Sukuna freezes as his brain goes completely blank again under your direct gaze. His eyes drop to your mouth, staring at the soft curve of your lips in the dim light of the desk lamp, his mind scrambling for any kind of escape hatch.
For fuck's sake, Sukuna. You've started already. Just finish it.
Instead, his throat stays bone dry, jaw clenching so hard a muscle jumps in his cheek. The words just refuse to come, and the surge of internal fury that follows nearly knocks him sideways.
“Never mind.”
You study him for a long moment, and a small, knowing look flickers in your eyes as you set your crust down on the plate.
"Well," you say softly, with a playful little tilt to your head. "I guess I officially know enough about drive belts now. At this rate, I won't have an excuse to bother you anymore."
The words hit like a bucket of ice water. The thought of you just fading back into the real world, never showing up at his garage again, triggers a raw, defensive panic that steamrolls right over his hesitation.
"You don't need car trouble to stop by," he quickly says.
It comes out too blunt, his voice rough and a little too sharp in the quiet room. He winces inside, bracing for you to pull away, but you just look at him, a soft, slow smile spreading across your face.
"You know," you murmur, your voice dropping into a gentle, teasing tone as you lean just a hair closer over the edge of the desk. "Most people just ask for a date."
Sukuna goes utterly still. The words hang in the air, and the silence that follows is so thick you can hear the faint, steady hum of the fluorescent bulb overhead. He doesn’t answer right away—he can’t. The gears in his brain lock up as he stares at you, completely stunned that you’ve just outmaneuvered him without even trying.
But then the sheer absurdity of it all hits him, and the tension in his chest snaps like a rubber band.
A low, rough chuckle shakes his chest, half frustration, half pure captivation. He drops the crumpled napkin onto the desk, and suddenly his eyes are burning with that hyper-confident heat he’s been holding back all week. The cautious, hesitant mechanic is gone in a blink.
"Yeah?" he rumbles, his voice dropping an octave.
Before you can blink, he closes the distance between the stools. That massive hand of his finds the back of your neck, thick fingers curling gently, thumb pressing into the warm skin along your jaw. His sheer size blocks out the rest of the office, casting you in his shadow as he leans down, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.
His eyes drop to your mouth, and the intensity of his stare makes your breath catch.
"Been trying real hard to be polite all week," he mutters with a wicked smirk right against your lips, tracing a slow line along your jaw with his thumb. "But you're entirely right. I'm taking you out tomorrow night."
He pauses, giving you one last chance to pull away if you want to. When you don't move, matching his smirk with one of your own, he closes the last bit of space without a single shred of hesitation.
The moment his lips meet yours, a ragged breath escapes him, a sound so raw it sends a shiver tearing down your spine. He’s been starving for this all week, and the force of it knocks the air from both your lungs.
Sweet vanilla and tobacco from his perfume flood your senses, drowning out everything else. Sukuna tastes exactly like he smells: warm, intense, and utterly intoxicating. Any coherent thought vanishes beneath the rush of it. Your hands find the soft cotton of his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric at his chest and bunching it tight in your fists as you pull him closer. Every bit of hunger he pours into the kiss, you give right back.
Feeling you lean in and your hands on him, a low, gravelly groan rumbles from deep in his chest. His grip at the nape of your neck tightens, thick fingers slipping higher into your hair until they're tangled in the strands at the base of your skull, leaving no room for doubt about how badly he's wanted this. His other hand leaves the desk, sliding up to cup your face, calloused thumb sweeping hard over your cheekbone as he tilts your head back, searching for a better angle.
Slow, insistent pressure parts your lips, and his mouth moves over yours in a rhythm that makes your head spin. The heat pouring off him is overwhelming, swallowing up the entire office until there's nothing left but his lips and the rough drag of his hands against your skin.
Sukuna pulls back just a fraction, barely a breath of space between you, so you can both drag in ragged breaths. Eyes closed, his forehead drops against yours while his chest heaves. But staying away isn’t an option. He leans right back in, catching your lower lip between his, sucking on it with a slow pull that rips a quiet gasp from your throat.
That deep drag is followed by a series of quick, hot pecks—one to the corner of your mouth, another firm press at the center of your lips, and finally a lingering kiss that seals your mouths together all over again.
Every tiny, breathless break just makes him hungrier. He presses in deeper, tongue tracing the shape of your lips, completely taking over the pace. Your heart hammers stupidly against your ribs, your body turning to liquid on the metal stool, kept upright only by the iron grip of his hands. He’s kissing you like he wants to leave a permanent mark, making up for an entire week spent talking himself out of this.
Even when he finally tears his mouth away, he refuses to let you go. His breath comes in short, heavy rasps that tangle with your own, crimson eyes fluttering open to find you—dark, hooded, and completely blown wide as he stares at your swollen lips. His thumb sweeps over your lower lip, wiping the dampness away with a slow, heavy pressure that makes your chest ache.
For a moment, neither of you says a word. The office is silent except for the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. His chest rises and falls close to yours, and you can feel the lingering warmth of him, the tension that hasn’t left either of your bodies.
A smirk slowly tugs at the corner of his mouth. He savors the silence every bit as much as the kiss itself.
“Text me your address,” he rumbles, his voice incredibly low and rough. His hand is still tangled in your hair, fingers threaded deep enough that when you instinctively try to lean back and get a better look at him, his grip tightens just enough to stop you. It isn’t rough, but it’s firm, keeping you exactly where he wants you as his fingers shift slightly against your scalp. “And be ready at seven.”
Blinking up at him through the haze of the kiss, you tilt your head as much as his grip allows, brows lifting as you study him. The corner of your mouth twitches, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
"Pretty sure that wasn't a question, Sukuna."
His smirk deepens as he looks down at you, completely unfazed by your tone. That arrogant confidence in his eyes is impossible to miss now, and somehow it only makes your stomach flip harder.
"Neither was taking you out tomorrow night," he murmurs.
You don’t bother answering. Instead, your fingers curl tighter into his shirt as you drag him down, crushing your lips into his. He chuckles deeply into the kiss as his hands slide from your face to your waist. Before you can think about what he's doing, he's pulling you off the stool and into his lap. Deepening the kiss, you bury your fingers in his hair, drawing a low groan from him that sends a shiver racing down your spine and straight between your legs.
notes: sukuna. buddy. my man. my brother in christ.
> sukuna: somebody has been scamming this woman
> sukuna: she baked me a pie
> sukuna: i need her phone number or i'm going to lose my fucking mind.
would you ever make a rec list of some of your favourite levi fics? 🫶
yes!! i really only read content on ao3 rn, i’m still getting back to reading on tumblr. i will say they all are mostly centered around explicit sexual content. also these are all series no one shots unfortunately
paychecks with a side of intimacy by Milmie. it’s a modern levi fic sugar baby vibes.
generous by ackermanxx. canon levi age gap power imbalance
restraint by gruene. canon levi, again similar thing like age gap, power imbalance
dirty money by piecksz. sugar baby fic but with a teacher/student relationship twist
dry humping your sexy Captain Levi after being a brat and Ignoring all of his orders all day.🤤🥹
a/n: yes please!!!!!!
c/w: dry humping
words: 727
you had been begging, for perhaps the past twenty minutes, for levi to finally grant you mercy by finally just fucking you. your palm pressed against the fabric of his white shirt, trying to rock your hips faster against him. aching for the deep pressure that you knew you could give yourself if only he would let you.
but, of course, levi would not budge.
his hands stayed anchored to your waist, fingers gripping so hard to keep you at the steady pace you were moving on top of him. both of you were fully clothed, your hips straddling his own. it was a meticulously slow pace, but it was harsh. every time he swept your clothed cunt against his dick, you felt the frustration grow on you. it was a deep ache, not enough pressure to get you relatively close, but just enough to keep you wanting more.
you tried to squirm your hips again and levi's fingers squeezed. "don't even think about it," levi said, looking up to watch your face. a part of you wanted to scream at him, but you knew better than to push levi, like you had been doing all day.
the entire day you spent not listening to him. at first, it was absentminded, a slip up or two. levi got angry with you, reprimanding you in front of everyone as per usual, but you decided to push further. you began purposely pissing him off and talking back whenever the moment allowed it. you wanted to see how far you could push him to the brink.
which left you here, forced to only dryhump your boyfriend instead of anything else. he wouldn't even kiss you right now, just focusing on your face, going slower if he saw you having even a tiny amount of 'too much' pleasure.
"keep your eyes on me, don't look away," he ordered, grey eyes staring right back into yours.
you bit your lip, feeling sweat begin to build on your brow. "please, levi. i need more."
"well i needed you to behave today and you didn't do that," he said, slightly increasing the pressure. "unless you want to apologize?"
huffing, you focused on your pleasure, feeling the beginnings of . . . something in your core. you could practically feel his dick straining in his pants, mirroring the wet spot that was seeping through yours. you stayed quiet, out of rebellion, hand twisting in his shirt.
"really? hm," he mused. "i'm sure i can get it out of you."
his pace increased, grinding your hips on his faster. every time he moved you could feel the delicious scrape of his dick against your clit, less dull now. your heart thumped through your ears, one of his hands coming to squeeze your thigh, letting you have some authority on how fast you wanted to go. a small victory.
levi's mouth connected with the column of your throat, pressing hot kisses to your skin, guiding you harder and harder. the sudden friction against his dick made his breath hitch, hiding it by giving your neck a bite.
"mhm — haah, wanna apologize now?" levi muttered against your skin. he seemed to be getting more worked up than you were getting right now, making you chuckle. turns out your captain could let loose once in a while, just took a little pushing.
your hand came to the back of his neck, tangling in some of the strands of hair. "i don't know. should i, captain?" you teased, a gasp leaving your mouth when his hips pressed up to meet your grinds. it caused friction just right, a surge of electricity on your clit.
it made you falter, thighs beginning to shake. he made up for it by gripping your hips again, pulling you back and forth. you were soaked, you could feel it. you were going to go crazy clenching around nothing, needing to feel his skin on yours. you would do anything for him to touch you.
you were itching to take off more clothes that you finally muttered, "i'm sorry, i need you. please, levi."
and you thought he was going to deny you, like he had for so long. but your captain was getting carried away, barely even responding to your apology before flipping you both over on the bed.
