toxic connie freaking the fuck out when your period is late and calling you a cheating whore :/
a long night
tw: physical abuse, very toxic relationships, connie’s calls reader all types of names. just mean
“no—no you think this shit is a fucking game, (name).”
connie’s grip on your arm is impossibly tight and at this point you don’t know what to do. you’ve been going back and forth with him for hours and he’s really not letting up. you’re tired and your arm hurts.
“can you fucking listen?! i swear if you don’t get the fuck off of me m’gonna—!”
connie’s twisting your body around and he’s in your face in a instant, pushing your back flat against your bedroom door you were just trying to open to get the fuck away from him.
sometimes you let yourself forget. you forget how dangerous connie really is. you forget. although he’s seems like a joking and lighthearted guy in people’s faces, he’s been fighting for years. he can really change his whole persona with one blink of an eye.
“you’re gonna what, (name)?” his jaw visibly clenches. “what the fuck are you gonna do ta me?”
he looks down at you and waits, like he really wants an answer to the question—
“c-connie i promise you…!”
“shut the fuck up!”
in a second you go from against the door to on the fucking floor, he pushes you hard and he means to do damage.
honestly this day couldn’t get any fucking worse.
you and connie actually started off good this morning. you woke up to him wrapped around you like a blanket before you guys got up and decided to make breakfast together. it had been sweet, sure it was basic. all you did was make pancakes together for heavens sake, but you’ve got to treasure that with a relationship like yours, it’s not often you have good morning together. most you’re already waking up with your gloves on ready to pounce. so of course you were greatful for the sweet acts this morning, too bad it didn’t last long. it wasn’t until later at about three o’clock, while you were getting ready to get a shower is when everything started.
“(n,n,)” connie calls into the bathroom swinging his keys around his finger and rushing to put a t-shirt on. “m’runnin out for a minute, you want me to pick up something?”
you were too busy getting all you shower stuff together to hear him of course, you guess that was your first mistake. he gets real mad at little shit like that.
“yo.”
not listening. you were too busy humming to yourself and looking down at your acrylics, need to book that appointment.
“(name!)” you heard that alright, no mistake. “what the fuck do you need from the store?”
you explained to him you don’t need anything, not before weakly defending yourself, telling him to stop fucking yelling. all he does is roll his eyes and search the place a little deciding himself what you need. he’s not about to go through this little annoying ass cycle like always. you say you don’t need shit then he leaves out and comes back and all the sudden everything’s popping in your dumb little head now. it pisses him off.
he starts with the kitchen. not much, probably some condiments, some of those like strawberry milk packs you like, and some more paper plates, you hate doing dishes. but God forbid you bring the ‘ugly’ paper plates, make sure to bring back those cute pink ones. he moves on to where you’re at the bathroom.
when he goes in there you’re still naked and humming to yourself while you look in the mirror spaced out. still not in the shower.
“watch out baby—”
“oh connie don’t worry about getting pads in stuff ok? don’t think i’ll need them in a minute.”
the words nearly fly over connie’s head until he really stops to think. ‘don’t think i’ll need them in a minute?’ what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
connie quickly gets irritated and worried, immediately jumping to all types of conclusions. honestly you’ve been with each other for too long. he should know by now how irregular your periods are, just shows how little he pays attention to you.
you try to explain it to him but connie’s making shit up in his own head, finding a solution in his own head.
you had went out last weekend right? yeah last weekend. he doesn’t know what the fuck it was for, maybe a girls night? he doesn’t fucking know, he knows he didn’t want you to fucking go though. you looked too fucking good. of course you being you trying to go out in your ‘sluttiest outfit’ as he’d say. he made you change like four times before getting pissed off and going home, cussing you out on the way out the door.
so what, you went out the other weekend, with your other slut friends and what now magically you just don’t have your period? you’re a fucking liar.
and once connie decides on something, it’s set in stone for him, no going back.
that shit started till three o’clock in the fucking afternoon and it’s twelve at night and you guys are still going.
you’re back where you were on the floor looking up at him with wide scared eyes, shocked by just how fast he gets mad.
“i don’t fuck anybody but you, you’re fucking crazy!”
“yeah, yeah?” he picks you up off the ground with just his one hand and drags you towards the bed, trying to straddle himself on you.
“get-get the fuck off connie,” here come the tears, you try your best to block his view from your face but he pins you on the bed and has both of your wrist with just one hand while he clenches his hand around your tear soaked face.
he’s all in your face yelling and it’s too much for you to take honestly, you break down even hard trying to push him away with all the strength you have but you just can’t.
“oh you’re fucking crying? you wanna fucking cry you fucking slut—?”
“st-stop calling me names connie! i didn’t fuck anyone else—“
you’re lying and he knows it. he swears if he looks at you any long he’s gonna slap the shit out of you. wouldn’t be the first time, but that doesn’t mean it makes it any easier. he gets off of you and watches you hop of the bed crying and shaking, immediately jumping up and doing everything you can to hurt him. it doesn’t do shit to him though, it just makes you look like a fucking idiot.
“you’re a fucking slut y’know that? know how fucking disgusted i am? my girlfriends a fucking cheating whore. a cheating pregnant whore.” you slap him. you don’t know how hard but your hand is stinging red it hurts. bad.
you’re still crying—sobbing when he looks down at you, a look of anger, disgust prominent on his face.
“couldn’t even use a fucking condom right? right you stupid bitch?!” he grabs both of your arms and drags you out the room, whispering you wanna keep fucking playing, to himself as you stumble behind him and try to regain your footing..
“where the fuck is your phone?” you’re still crying, you don’t even care anymore. all you wanna do is cry and role around on your floor and scream.
“g-get the fuck o-off, connie.” you try to move somewhere else but he’s got a tight grip on your little arm.
all you want to do is get away from him right now, so you grab the closet object to yourself with your free hand and repeatedly hit him with it. oh that gets him mad real quick. everything after that is a blur and by the time you’re fulling aware again, your lip is bleeding and your head is pounding. connie’s sitting on the crunch going through your phone. you look at the clock that reads 1:23am.
⸝⸝ ౨ৎ :: sukuna can’t accept that you’ve moved on. thinks you just need some dick to remind you where home is. ;)
warnings 𑄽𑄺 2.3k. fem reader, lowercase intended, she/her pronouns, black coded. dilf!sukuna, fluff + smut duh, jealousy, sukuna's a cheater n we're dumb, daddy kink, body worship, choking, body worship, dry humping if you squint, consensual coercion, cum play, toxic relationship, sneaky sex, minors aren't welcomed!
꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎'𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 .ᐟ ꒱; this is very old, originally a self ship but i just wanted to post it bc i have a lot of old fics sitting in the drafts etc.
sukuna clenches his jaw whenever he notices the new love interest in your life, nearly causing a fight one day you threw a cookout for your family and the man you're currently 'dating' is playing football with your daughter, seeing the stranger pick her up and spin her around when she scores a touchdown. it boils his blood to see your daughter smile at someone who isn't her father. sukuna awaits at the doorstep of his home, or 'ours' as he likes to call it, still delusional about your separation, claiming it's a break when it wasn't . . hands tucked into his dark gray sweatpants pockets with a smile on his usually stern face as he watches your tiny daughter run to him with giggles and bratz dolls in her hands. sukuna crouches low to grab her with a purposely exaggerated grunt, commenting on how big she's getting with a laugh.
you slam the door to your car, retrieving your daughter's duffel bag filled with things she needed for the weekend at daddy's. sukuna holds his child at his hip. you smile at her as she constantly pokes at his cheek to grab his lost attention. he couldn't keep his eyes off you. looking you up down with that all too familiar glint in his eyes. you raise your brow, glaring down at yourself dressed in a black maxi skirt that touches your ankles and a white lace top, feet in black sandals.
"what?"
"going somewhere?" he questions with authority.
"my house and back. i can't look nice?"
"you look good," you ignore the way he licks his pink lips, your daughter tapping his shoulder for the millionth time, the four-year-old always wanting to be the star of the show.
"daddy, can we watch bratz fashion ‘ixies with mommy?!" the little girl screeches excitedly.
"mommy has to go, baby," you drain the light from her face, the child frowning. sukuna eyes you.
"why?" they say periodically. you stare him down with annoyance. now she's gonna question me. before you can even speak, she's at it again.
"but we haven't watched it in months," she whines. "we watch it every day with all three of us."
sukuna sighs, rubbing her back. "it's okay, honey. me and you can just—"
"i'll stay," you cut him off immediately, not fond of seeing your daughter cry. his puppy dog act was irritating. he grins mischievously.
your daughter cheers and you lean forward to pinch her chubby cheeks, speed walking to your car to pull into the driveway before entering the familiar home, feeling somewhat vacant. the vibe is off, but a little nostalgic. you haven't stepped foot into this place in months, unable to, the idea bringing back too many unwanted memories. your divorce wasn't pretty; finding sukuna messing with another woman when you searched through his phone one day to find the messages, his excuses replaying in your head, all bullshit.
she was just one night. one night over six years? they were high-school sweethearts, and he tore that apart for a one-time fling. didn't make sense, never will. it's awkward when you stand in the kitchen you used to cook your happy family meals every day to see him make your daughter lunch for her movie, combing at her curly hair with your fingers as she went on about how she ate dyed eggs for green eggs and ham day at school. the movie was the same as usual, both of you sitting adjacent to her as she ate her lunch and enjoyed the film, falling asleep on sukuna's shoulder thirty minutes in.
school must've taken it out of her. sukuna stretches his arms, breathing out a 'finally' which makes you laugh, standing along with him as he carries her and you shut off the tv, checking a text from the man you're currently fooling around with, nothing serious. just experimenting the dating life again.
you home today? i wanna see you.
you sigh, dropping your shoulders tiredly. you weren't in the mood to see him. he was a funny guy, enjoyable to be around, and made your daughter laugh . . .but he's obscenely clingy. you liked your space, and he didn't know the meaning of it. on top of that, the sex was mediocre. nothing compared to how sukuna fucked me. you dissociated with the world momentarily, chewing on your lip as flashbacks hit, zoning out the sound of sukuna's heavy steps approaching.
"she's tucked in."
your eyes lock onto the veins bulging out of his arms, the white tee he wore hugging his muscles, and the platinum chain swinging around his neck making your face hot. dammit, stop. your stare lingers longer than you expect, sukuna lowering his face to catch your attention with a smirk.
"hello? you good?"
"yeah, sorry," you clear your throat.
"check me out all you want baby, it's still yours."
"sukuna," you roll your eyes, locking your phone and finding your car keys, needing to be as far away from him as possible before you do something you regret.
"what? i'm joking," he furrows his brows when you begin strutting towards the front door, mumbling about how your daughter's ballet recitals on sunday and not to forget to monitor her junk food intake. his hand clasps around your wrist to stop you.
"stay. i wanna talk to you."
"there's nothing to talk about."
"are you dating him?" he's straightforward, watching the muscle in his jaw clench.
"that's none of your business."
"i have a right to know who's around my daughter. yes or no? or are you just fuckin' him?"
"why?" you yank your arm away, getting in his face, barely with your height. "does it hurt your feelings? well, guess karmas a bitch."
sukuna chuckles darkly, raising his arm to tug at his bi-colored hair with frustration. "man, you're still on that shit."
you raise your brow with fury. he's shitting me. "on that . . . are you fucking serious? you tellin' me i don't have a reason to say fuck you for cheating on me?"
"all she did was suck my dick, you're acting like i was in her shit," he rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulder with zero care in the world. "i've apologized a million times. it was one stupid night where we were at each other's throats and she just so happened to be around . . so."
"you know what." you scoff, not having time for this stupid shit. men always have bullshit excuses when trying to justify cheating. you didn't care if he kissed the bitch, cheating is cheating. you managed to bypass him, walking around the couch until he was back in your face fast once again.
you clenched your keys in your fists, ready to claw at his face with them. "what do you want?"
it's silent for a moment, the hard stare he has on you makes you feel small, folding your arms over your midsection, waiting for his response.
"i need some pussy," he whispers gravelly, slowly licking his lips and grabbing at your waist. you swallow, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing at your clit. chill out.
"text your other bitch. i'm sure she'll give it to you."
"only your sweet fuckin' pussy," now his hands are smoothing to your backside, smacking his heavy, veiny palm on your ass to draw you closer, squeezing the flesh between his long fingers. you gasp, eyes wide as you feel the outline of his dick against your stomach. his fingers are dangerously close to your pussy. "daddy misses it so much."
you inhale, shifting to try your best and break from his barricade, shoving him away which barely makes him stumble. "i'm leaving."
thinking this is your final attempt at actually leaving, that relief gets knocked down the instant his hand grabs the back of your neck and brings you back to him, his mouth pressed to the side of your neck where he breathes and kisses wetly. you freeze, the ache below never subsiding in his hold. sukuna's lifting your skirt before another word falls from your pretty little mouth, shoving his hand into your matching white lace, smirking from the ocean flowing on his thick fingers.
"you need some dick, don't you?" he whispers hotly behind your earlobe, rushing his tongue there at the same time he circles your clit, falling back into his warm chest, dropping your keys altogether. "he not hitting it right? doesn't do it like me, does he?"
shamelessly, you nod your head in agreement, giving up because you know he's right and this is what you need. you know he can give you things no other man could. it hasn't been the same ever since. any man you've been with aside from him hasn't met up to those standards. sukuna raised your pussy to only come back to him. trained to accommodate him. cum from him. fuck him. for any other man to take possession of what he crafted would be fucking fowl.
"you miss me?" sukuna hums, walking you both towards the black couch in the living room you moved too far away from your previous escape. your knees are dented into the seat, arms thrown over the back as sukuna groans low in his throat, pupils blown with lust as he tugs your panties to sit at the middle of your thighs. he presses his clothed cock to you, grinding slowly to make you feel it, let you know how much he misses you more. "you miss daddy, baby?"
you keen, face buried into your forearms shyly, rocking back onto him, feeling yourself soak his pants. sukuna hisses and smacks your ass again, pussy clenching from the attack. you whine. "yes. miss you."
"daddy misses you too," he's swift with his actions, already tugging at his dick leaking absurd amounts of precum, circling the angry red tip on your entrance before sinking in only halfway, wanting you to remember how to take him. you moan quietly, biting at your arm and taking lead by pushing back onto him, only to have sukuna retract his hips.
"don't be greedy, you'll hurt yourself." it echoes in your head when he says this, smiling cutely, loving that he cared, unlike other men. and he's kind of right. he's perfectly thick, long to the point where it surpasses his belly button. it was always hard for you to fully wrap your hand around it, towering your face whenever he stood over you, veins decorating up the underside. he draws his hips back, carefully driving into you, rolling his waist effortlessly to make you savor every ridge of his cock.
"doesn't it feel so fuckin' good?" he asks with his lip tucked between his teeth, rolling his eyes back once he starts it up, hooking you by your handles and yanking you back as he fucks you, fascinated by the jelly-like bounce your ass makes as you throw it back.
his wife was always one to never hold back her sounds, whimpering and moaning to your hearts delight. sukuna has your back arched with his other palm, reaching behind yourself to clutch at his veiny forearm, the two of you locking eyes as you glare up at him to see him slowly losing it. so much pent-up sexual frustration from not having you for months. not being able to touch another woman since so it pisses him off to know you could easily fuck another man without feeling the same. he's getting mad just thinking about it, clenching his jaw tight as he fucked you harder, deeper. you're clawing at his arm and crying his name, sukuna coming to his senses momentarily, forgetting they had a daughter who's asleep upstairs.
he moves your hand away, entwining both his large palms over your mouth and pulling you back to his chest where your head rests, sukuna standing straight as your back dips even more, cursing as your eyes switch white and you sing into his hands shielding the sweet symphonic tones.
"you forgive me?" he breathes shakily on your forehead, ruts becoming sloppy when that familiar heat twitches in his gut. this he could excuse; cumming too fast just to brush off the burning arousal for you. he'd savor you later on when it truly mattered. he'd make love to you to prove that he still loves you, that he's different now, that he'd never fuck up a good thing again. right now, he just wanted to fuck you so you know he's not letting you leave anytime soon.
your brown eyes are slanted softly, whines and delicate nods of your head are what takes him there, dropping his hands from your mouth, choking you lightly as he mashed his mouth onto yours, moaning with you as you tremble and orgasm. he stays inside you a little longer, fearing that warmth would dissipate if he stayed out too long. sukuna swallows, catching his breath and darting his attention to the way his cum flows out of you after you fall forward, taking his index and middle finger to collect it and shove it back inside. you laugh at him with a silent 'fuck off' and smack his hand away. he grins happily, massaging your backside adoringly. this isn't a pass that you're going back to him. but having you in his presence as of now was a start he could be satisfied with.
— number 7 on paradis titans hockey team can get a little mean after he loses a game.
( cw ) ⸻ female anatomy describe, her/she pronouns, black coded reader, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, overstimulation, phone sex, feminine pet names, mentions of cum, mentions of spit, spit usage, told in third pov cause it's through ino's eyes, established relationship (reader and ino are dating), ino hive we up and running, reader is a college student, ino is away for a mission, i promise i ain't showing favoritism to najma lmfao, this fic was second place for the poll i posted week ago, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated jean baby mother aka @honeybleed
When Jean lost a game, you always seemed to walk on eggshells. The nicely decorated home grows silent as a mouse when your family enters the mansion. Your son seemed to fall asleep during the long ride from the ice rink to the house, and you only tucked him in his bed after stripping him out of his clothes. Neatly folding up the hockey jersey with his father's number on it and placing it away, you placed a loving kiss on top of his sandy brown colored curls before exiting the room. You were sure to close the door behind you since you weren't sure how Jean would react due to losing the game.
When Jean's team lost, he grew quiet. A little too quiet. His interviews with ESPN and other sports outlets weren't as cheerful and confident. You could literally see the frustration and sadness in his light brown hues. The rides home are always silent, other than the questions your five-year-old would ask randomly. As a new wag (an obnoxious term for wives & girlfriends of sports players), you always ask the other partners how exactly they handle huge losses.
Eren's wife, Emilia would only shrug, mumbling about how Eren usually forgets about the loss after a day or two before he's back on the ice, perfecting any screw-ups he made during the game. Connie's girlfriend CJ would make a subtle joke about giving him head after the game to make him forget about the disappointing end of the hockey team's season.
You walked towards the master bedroom of your home, your body leaning against the door frame as you watched Jean tug off the Grey Nike sweatshirt he wore. He tossed it in the laundry hamper in the corner of your room, now only in a white wifebeater. His toned arm flexed with each movement he made as he shuffled around the room. Occasionally, his gold necklace with your initials and your son's initials moved with each quick motion he made.
"Do you want to talk about it? I know it was such an important game," Your tone was soft-spoken and came out as if you were whispering.
"Strip." was the only thing Jean uttered as he was undoing the string on his Nike jogger pants.
Your lip gloss-covered lips parted to speak, but in the back of your mind, you were just thinking about making Jean happy. He was going through some wild emotions at the moment, and who were you to object against them. They lost the opportunity to compete for the Stanley Cup, so you knew the man in front of you was seeing complete red at the moment.
"Keep my jersey on, though. Everything else off." He huffed.
You stepped further inside the room, your back backing into the door to close it so you wouldn't wake up your son. Your fingers begin to unbutton the jeans you were wearing, slowly tugging them off your smooth legs. Soon, your panties joined them as Jean's index finger motioned for you to come here. With each step you took, you could feel the cool breeze in your room hit your bare bottom, sending a chill down your spine.
When you were face to face with Jean, he didn't say much. However, you could feel how hot he was. How frustrated he was. One harsh push on your king-sized bed caused your lips to let out a gasp. Your body hit the bed like a fragile little doll Jean wanted to play with. He's grabbing a hold of your ankle that was decorated with the gold anklet with his name on it with a cursive font. His lips placed soft kisses on your ankle, causing you to squirm under his firm touch. You expected him to treat you like a fragile rag doll that had just been snitched up. But boy, was you wrong. In one motion, he had turned your body around so that you were lying on your stomach, mumbling about how he needed you so badly.
"Be a pretty wife and get on all fours, m'kay," He said lowly.
You did what you were told, getting on all fours. The oversized jersey that formally belonged to Jean raised just a bit to be able to see the cup of your ass. A low yelp tumbled out your mouth when you felt Jean's large hands slap at the flesh of your ass before you could feel his hand massage the stinging flesh. A sharp hiss came out of you when you felt another slap on the opposite cheek; Jean once again repeated the process of massaging your ass cheeks. He's teasingly letting a coo tumble off his lips as you can only stutter out his name like a broken record.
"Just want to taste you real quick," His words were soft yet intimidating. He angled your body provocatively so you felt like such a filthy woman. "Just stay like that for me, please," he says before his callous fingertips are traced alongside your puffy lips. The teasing action caused your skin to be littered with goosebumps.
Once again, you desperately coughed up a yelp when you felt him slap at your throbbing cunt that was aching for his attention. The similar motion he did with your asscheek, Jean's multimillion-dollar massage at your pussy. This time, your wetness coated his fingers ever so negligibly. "You like it when I do that, huh?" He asked.
He didn't wait for you to respond before kneeling to taste you. The flat of his tongue collided with your puffy lips to lick up your juices formed just by his spankings. A weak whimper came out of you as you seemed to relax in his touch as he was eating you out. When Jean wanted to taste, he wanted to taste every fiber of you. Practically burying his face in the messiness between your thighs caused your toes to curl.
"Jean." You moaned out as you felt him glide his tongue up your slit. The lewd sound of him slurping up the mess he was making bounced off the bedroom walls. You could feel the sharpness of his nose poking you from the back; the man practically was devouring you at the moment. You were so close to breaking the perfect arch, but you knew what consequences were to come.
"Fuck." You moaned before you reached out, clawing at his sandy brown hair. Your fingers grabbed his hair as you rocked backward upon his kitten licks. Your orgasm was right there; you were so close to the finish line while your knees were growing hazy.
But Jean soon pulled away, letting your body fall limp like a deflated balloon that's lost all its air. Your poor cunt felt like it was pulsing, your orgasm was snatched away from you, and the lump of pleasurable despair disappeared.
"I can't have you cummin' just yet, baby girl," Jean commented. The little facial hair he had was stained with your juices. His upper lip lingered with your scent, and his tongue tasted like you. Maybe that made the man in a complete trance all over again.
His grey sweatpants grew tight at the crotch area. His dick was screaming to be released from the tight compress of his sweats and boxers. Jean quickly pushed down his sweats and stepped out of them like an over-enthusiastic virgin that was about to get a spliff of pussy for the first time. His blood was fuming, and he was still a bit frustrated by the loss. Especially considering the number of penalties he racked up during the game. His cock bulged in the black-colored Ethika boxers (another sponsorship he received for singing a multimillion-dollar contract) before he tugged them down also. His thick cock tapped at his toned torso when his boxers came down also.
Once again, he's grabbing onto you like a doll, dragging your whithering body toward the end of the bed. His hand firmly pushed your lower back to ensure your arch was perfect. It was a wonderful sight to see his beautiful wife completely exposed like this to him. A lovely ass up face-down position just so he can have his way with him.
You were anticipating for Jean to shove his cock inside you. Despite it being the same dick you've ridden, sucked, choked on, and the list goes on, you still found yourself chewing your lower lip off at adjusting to his girth. He was a grower for sure, with a slight curve that could kiss at that spot that caused your pedicures toes to curl. Your favorite part of his dick was his tip. It was a splendid sight when you would climb under the covers to suck him off when he complained about morning wood. It was a nice mushroom shape with a slit that gushed out so much cum when he wanted to.
"You know if you relax. You'll get used to it quicker." Jean suggested. With his slender digits climbing up the jersey, you had on to undo the bra you were wearing.
With quickness, you're removing your bra tossing it to the side with ease. Your hips bucking to receive any form of friction between Jean and yourself, but you could only feel his tip tap at your sopping entrance. "Don't be so fuckin' rude, and wait," Jean uttered as he grabbed a hold of his cock. He rubbed his tip at your entrance. Teasing you bit by bit before he's pooling all of the spit in his mouth and letting it drop down on his cock. His hand stroked his dick quickly before he once again was poking at your entrance.
"You want to make me feel better after that horrible game, right?" Jean questioned.
You only nodded as you were on all fours, your fingers grasping at the sheets below you before your mouth gasped apart, feeling him stretch you out. He didn't even wait until you adjusted to his huge size before he was pushing himself inside you like a madman. His hands grasping at your asscheeks just to feel upon you a little more. His thrusts weren't the usual slow and passionate filled; they were harsher. He was genuinely fucking you like he hated you. It was your fault that the team was two points short of going to the play for the Stanley Cup. You could only let out poor pathetic moans, moaning out for Jean.
"That's a good fuckin' girl; you're taking my dick so well," Jean uttered as his hips bucked forward into the plush of your ass. His eyes glowed excitedly at the sight of your pretty pussy, swallowing him with each thrust. The mixture of your wetness and the spit he coated on his coat was imprinted on your thighs like a nasty masterpiece.
He had one hand holding your back down while the other was grasping at the hockey jersey with his last name on it. He gripped the jersey severely to have some form of control over his brass thrusts. Ignoring your whimpers for him to slow down, or you would cum.
"Don't cum." Jean uttered out.
His words were more like a command, a dangerous warning you wanted to poke at until he exploded.
"Please Jean..." You whined into the pillow, which at this point was stained with your own drool and tears.
"What did I say, hm?" He questioned. His right hand slapped at your ass cheek causing you to let out a whine.
"Don't...cum," You hiccupped between moans.
Jean would only hum in agreement. His hips irrationally bottomed inside your dripping cunt before he pinned your arms behind your back. His tight grip on you caused you to chew at your lip as if it were some chew toy. "We'll cum together like it's supposed to fuckin' be," He commented.
You felt so lightheaded at the intense amount of stimulation upon your body. Your limbs felt like they were screaming for you to relax, and the burning sensation that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach was ready to burst.
Jean's hold he had on your folded arms only grew tight with each shove forward into your pussy. He could feel his balls grow heavy each time he tapped at that one spot that caused your eyes to cruise in the back of your head. Jean's eyes were shifted closed as he was so pussy drunk, the harsh groan that grumbled off the back of his neck caused his Adam's apple to move. His thick white cum filled you up to the brim as you moaned through the sensation. Jean brought the ends of his wifebeater up to his teeth, nibbling at the ends as he rocked you on his cock slowly. He could feel your pussy pulsing around his cock, milking him of every droplet of his cum. His brown hues practically glistened at the creamy sight of a white ring around his cock with each slow thrust.
When he pulled out slowly, letting the hold he had on you go and watching you collapse breathlessly on your stomach. His fingers combed through his hair, which seemed to stick to his forehead due to the intense workout.
Synopsis: Floch wants to do everything Eren does, including you.
Warnings: modern/college au, fem/afab reader, Floch is bisexual, (semi?) public sex, noncon voyeurism, implied stalking, dubcon, oral (m and f receiving), threesomes, slight humiliation, cum eating, porn w plot, cuck themes(?), floch is creepy, eren is toxic
6680 words ... this is a little rushed because i had so many things going on but i really wanted to get this out on time for my KinkTober event :D
The fraternity house is filled with generic pop music and chatting of college students whose alcohol consumption seems to only increase. In the middle of it, Eren sips from a red cup, eyeing the fraternity house, looking for you. He stops what he’s doing at the sight of Jean walking in with another person. Jean, in his carefully styled outfit, just half a notch of being too formal for the occasion, diamond stud earrings reflecting the low light of the room walks in with Floch in tow. With his clean swept mop of dull red hair and blouson jacket, he looked more like someone you’d spot at a rural gas station than a college party. Clearly a bit out of his element, not including his almost mousy demeanor. Eren inhales deeply, pretending to adjust one of the rings on his fingers while he waits for Floch to leave Jean’s side. There’s an exchange of words between the two before Jean spots Eren. From across the room, Eren can hear Jean mutter “I’ll catch up with you later,” to the other man before making his way over to Eren.
Eren meets him halfway, sliding himself between the growing sea of people. “Why did you bring Floch?” He says, voice low so as not to let anyone else hear their conversation. “I thought I told you not to mention the party to him.” “I didn’t, he came up to me and asked; he heard about it from somewhere.” Jean puts his hands up in defense. “From where?” “I don’t know, the grapevine?”
“Jean don’t piss me off.” Eren says in his friend’s ear, coming out as almost a growl. “I didn’t know you didn’t want him here that bad! He really wanted to come!” Jean whispers, laughter bubbling through his words. “I just brought him here so he can make some friends, I get worried about him.” He says, eyeing Floch mingling with the other people at the party, grabbing himself a red cup. “Are you his mom or something?” Eren can’t believe what he’s hearing, and part of him wants to go grab Floch by the collar of his jacket and drag him out of the party himself. There’s an underlying need to be polite to Floch that stops him. Floch wasn’t a bad guy, he didn’t do anything wrong or show any disrespect; he was just… clingy.
Floch was a transfer student, something involving an incident at the last college he attended that he chose to come here. He had told Eren that he just transferred because this was the only place that would accept his credits and had a better pre-med program. Eren wasn’t familiar with what the “incident” was at Floch’s old institution, nor did he really care if the rumor was true or not, but he pretended to for the sake of niceties. If he had known it would lead to Floch trailing him around campus like a lost puppy; perhaps he would have been a bit ruder. Then again, at least Floch was loyal. Perhaps too loyal.
Everything Eren did, Floch also wanted to do.
Eren can remember the day you met Floch; the indescribable and unfound panic that shot through him. He can’t remember and still doesn’t know why he had such a visceral reaction. It was like he just knew something was bound to happen. He can tolerate Floch’s need to constantly be around him, to insist on sitting at his table whenever Eren’s in the cafeteria, to be put into group chats with him because Jean thinks he needs some friends. But Floch just had to press his buttons, seeing how far he could go before Eren snapped at him. The redhead had never been reluctant to let Eren know how he felt about you, how he’d totally bang you if you ever gave him the chance.
And sure, you two weren’t anything exclusive, up until now it had been no strings attached. He was fine to keep things that way until Floch showed up. But there was something about how you seemed to immediately take to Floch, subtly pressing yourself against him and smiling his way. All for the sake of getting a rise out of Eren; and as much as he tried to hide it, it had worked. Eren can’t tell if Floch is just stupid or knows what he’s doing by entertaining you in Eren’s presence, if he knew or not that you were his friend with benefits, not the community cum dump.
“Just give him a chance,” Jean says, and Eren grumbles out something akin to a “fine”, deciding not to cause a fuss at his own party.
Eren tries to ignore Floch for the rest of the party, surely it’d be fine as long as he didn’t have to see him. It wasn’t as hard as it seemed, for once Floch decided to talk to someone that wasn’t him or Jean. Eren finds himself now preoccupied with one of the sorority girls, Mina. Black hair that fell to her shoulders tied into low pigtails and peach pink lips parted, a trail of saliva connecting her mouth to his. Eren has her up against the wall, her arms loosely around his neck as they resume their makeout session. His thoughts are filled with you though, and briefly, he forgets he’s not kissing you. The only thing pulling him out of it is Mina’s perfume, some sort of tropical beach scent, strong as well. He would have been with you if you had bothered to show up.
Or rather, if Eren had noticed that you were here.
His eyes drift for a moment when the kiss is broken again and he sees you on the couch, one of your hands on Floch’s leg. Floch is flushed red as you move closer, bordering on sitting on his lap. For a second, your eyes flit to Eren and you shoot him a teasing smile. Your attention returns to Floch and you pull yourself onto his lap, straddling him and although Eren can’t see it from this angle, he knows you’re kissing him.
Ah, shit. You probably saw the entire thing with Mina. That’s why you were doing this, torturing Eren like this. He could have almost let it go, watching you in the corner of his eye while continuing his make-out sesh with Mina, and he should have. You two weren’t exclusive, it’s no strings attached, and it’s fine. This was fine, you were technically allowed to do this, Eren wasn’t your boyfriend or anything-
The sight of you grinding on his lap, your hands holding his face while his hands settled on your lower back and getting dangerously lower, you just wanted Eren to react, didn’t you? Surely you would have had the decency to take this to an empty bedroom if you didn’t, right? Eren breaks away from the kiss, scoffing and biting the inside of his cheek. “Hey- what is it?” Mina asks, pouting but obviously a bit miffed. She tries to pull Eren back in, looking up at him through his lashes. His head is turned in a completely different direction, malding at the sight of you and Floch basically having sex on the couch.
…Perhaps he’s prone to exaggeration when he’s angry. But how can he not be irritated by this? You’re at his party, throwing yourself all over the one guy you know Eren doesn’t like? It’s hypocritical, Eren knows it, but if it were Armin or Jean he wouldn’t have minded as much. Sharing you with one of his friends wasn’t exactly a bad idea, but Floch? What the fuck did you see in Floch? Was there some need that Eren wasn’t fulfilling, or were you just trying to piss him off? It’s a rhetorical question, one Eren asks himself and wants to ask you; on the off chance you actually provide him with a good reason as to why you’re being like this.
“Just give him a chance.” Jean’s words ring in Eren’s mind, almost tauntingly so.
He strides across the room, hands forming into fists at his sides. Once he’s there, he makes eye contact with Floch. Although it doesn’t seem like Floch has understood his mistake, he knows he’s made one from the look in Eren’s eye. Your back is to Eren, still focused on Floch and you hardly register how the man’s hands quickly leave your ass and try to nudge you off. Eren does that for him, yanking you up by your shoulders and moving you onto the other cushion seat of the couch. You let out a noise of surprise, mixed emotions on your face. You’re set aside, with Eren now in between you and Floch.
“Hey man,” Floch says, his tone almost reticent. He stands up, though doesn’t quite meet Eren’s height. Without warning, Eren yanks Floch by his shirt and drags him outside of the party, with you quick to follow. You doubt there’s anything you can do to stop either of them if it escalates, but to some relief, Jean happens to glance over and also comes with you, if only to save Floch from a beating.
-
Surprisingly, things weren’t so awkward the next week when you had class with Floch.
You both had an intro-level psychology course together, and both sat next to each other during lectures. Floch didn’t bring the party up, much to your relief. Neither did you, though you still felt like you should say something. Maybe apologize on Eren’s behalf, because Lord knows he wasn’t going to do it himself. You stall for a few minutes, internally debating on what you should do. More people get settled into the classroom, and the professor comes a few minutes late and begins clicking around on his computer before getting started with the lecture. You tap on Floch’s arm, and you get his attention right away.
“Hey, um,” You start, meeting his amber gaze. “I’m sorry about the party, and about Eren,” You struggle to come up with the words, but Floch knows what you’re getting at. “It’s fine, I get it.” He reassures you, and the conversation is cut short when the professor decides he wants to start the lecture. A dull two hours pass and you and Floch mostly stick to taking notes. Towards the end of the class, the professor pulls out what he’s been fiddling with on his computer; the rubric for a project that was due the very next day. A thirty-slide PowerPoint based on any discipline of psychology of your choosing, with the requirement that it be a group effort with three people in one group. As it would turn out, there were only twenty-six people in the class, which meant one group would only have two people.
“We should be partners,” Floch says before you can even think about looking around for anyone else to be in a group with. You stare at him, unsure of if you should take him up on his offer. Well, it’s more like an order than an offer. You remind yourself that it’s just for class, it’s purely academic, and you shrug your shoulders and say “Sure”. It’s not like you knew anyone else in the room.
“I’ll go to the library and look for some books then.” You say, looking back at Floch. “We can meet up at my dorm to finish the project, I’ll text you.” You stand up from your seat as he does the same, putting your notes away and zipping up your bag as the rest of the class disperses.“Sure thing, we can catch up later.” He nods, and you leave, heading out of the room, down a few hallways and staircases, and out of the building entirely to go to the library on campus. Floch heads the other way, pulling out his phone if only to check the time when he suddenly bumps into Eren as he goes to turn the corner.
“Hey-” “Sorry,” Floch says hastily, stepping back to give Eren some room. He takes in the other man's cologne as subtly as he can. There’s a brief moment of awkwardness between the two, and Eren feels the need to say something. Anything. “Where are you going anyway? He prods, looking Floch over. He’s wearing the same damn blouson jacket as last week, Eren wonders if it’s even a men's jacket. “Uh– the library.” Eren nods, not really registering that information. There are a few more words exchanged before the two seemingly go their separate ways.
-
The library is quiet, save for a few students flipping through their books and whispering to each other. You move past the rows of computers and the desks occupied by people studying and into the forest of bookshelves. You look through the looming shelves, scanning the spines of the books. There isn’t anything specific you’re looking for, nothing you couldn’t just search up online. Your professor insisted you have at least two physical books as a source for your essay though, so here you are. Unenthusiastically looking at the book spines, some showing the titles and authors and others blank. It’s better to do it now rather than later.
“Hey, pretty girl.” You almost jump out of your skin, instantly recognizing the voice behind you as Eren’s. You have no idea when he got to the library or right behind you without your knowledge, but he isn’t an unwelcome surprise, as much as you hate to admit it. “Eren.” You scowl, biting at your tongue to not say more or reflexively smile in his presence. “Are you still mad at me? I said I was sorry.” The whine in his voice is masked with a thin veil of genuine remorse. He doesn’t care about how you feel about his actions or that he almost made a scene, only if you’re still mad at him. Eren pulls you a bit closer, your back pressed against his chest and his head dips down in the embrace. It’s pathetic, you both know it.
You can’t help the grin on your face, close to splitting your cheeks. There’s just something about Eren that makes him addictive to you. Maybe it’s his smile, the tattoos decorating his sculpted arms, or how he always hit your sweet spots,
You could tell Eren to stop, that doing this in a college library where you’re sure there are at least a few people scattered around is wrong. You could tell him to stop and he would, or you could just take this to the bathroom or somewhere more private. Or, more importantly, you think, you were still mad at him about the party. That you didn’t want him to touch you, that he can go feel up on Mina. His cologne, his strong arms, it all washes away your anger. It’s hard to stay mad at him, and you hate yourself for it. You hate him too, of course. Something about Eren touching you here, where you might get caught, it stirs anxiety including excitement inside you. You forget about the party briefly, wanting this instant gratification more than you want to yell at him. So you let him, you let his hand slip past your skirt and panties, and his arm curls around you from behind for his other hand to clamp over your mouth.
Briefly, his thumb prods at your mouth, letting you suck on the digit before his fingers run along your folds and tease your clit. A shaky moan leaves you and Eren figures there’s no way you can be quiet without his assistance, so his hand goes over your mouth to keep you quiet. Eren’s fingers find your clit, circling over it and he takes great pleasure in how you stiffen up and your ass further brushes against him. You breathe heavily into the palm of his hand, clinging on to him to steady yourself. He keeps going, knowing how to wind you up and build you up to your climax. “Are you about to cum on my fingers? Just like that?” Eren says in your ear, a teasing lilt in his voice. As he does, his index and middle finger curl inside you, and the hand on your mouth presses further to suppress the whorish noises. “Such a slut.”
Floch’s stomach turns and twists into heated knots, his ears straining to pick up everything you two were saying. It was dangerous, hiding in between the rows of books behind you two, but it wasn’t his fault you and Eren wanted to fool around in public. Sure, Floch may have followed you down here without your knowledge, but he didn’t know Eren would also be down here, and he certainly had no idea that this would happen.
“C’mon, I want you to get a taste of yourself.”
That, Floch was able to hear; loud and clear. He covers his own mouth, desperate to not let either of you hear his pathetic gasping. What would you even say? Would you call him disgusting, would you run away? Would Eren be mad, would he hit him? Would he get close and up in his face again like he did at the party? It’s driving Floch wild.
Eren’s fingers leave your mouth with a trail of saliva, and Eren licks off whatever was left on them that combined with your spit. Floch can’t see what’s going on, even as he peeks around the corner, but with the context clues he has, he gets a pretty good idea. After a moment, Floch gathers the resolve to get out of there. After all, you two are supposed to meet up later today. He needs to relieve himself before he goes to your dorm. With that, he scurries off, leaving you and Eren alone.
You move Eren’s hand away, which was reaching to go back down in your panties. “C’mon, I’m supposed to be doing something.” You chide, a bit out of breath. “Yeah? What?” “I’ve got a whole slideshow due tomorrow morning, it’s gotta be like… thirty slides long.” You say, drawing out some vowels as you recall what your professor said about the PowerPoint. “I need two sources that are from the library.” You groan, looking over all of the books in the section. Perhaps you should just pick two out at random. That seems like a good enough strategy. You decide to omit the fact that you’re partnered with Floch for the project, just in case it’s still a sore spot for Eren. “I’ll see you later, I really need to hurry up and get this done.” You muse, waving him off. Eren sticks around a bit longer though, hovering around you to get the books you need, and walking you back to the hall where your dorm room is at.
Now all you had to do was set a few things up and text Floch to come over.
-
Floch thinks you’re doing it on purpose, and maybe you are. A short skirt that teases him with the visage of what he jerks himself off to and a low-cut shirt that presents your cleavage to him. You’re dangling yourself right in front of him like a piece of meat. He knows that you’re using him to an extent. He’s a means to your end, to get back at Eren. Floch isn’t totally oblivious to this, it lingers in the back of his mind. But he doesn’t care. You chose him when you could have picked anyone else. He’s sitting on the edge of your bed, watching you get some pens and highlighters from the shared desk. The dorm is cramped, no wonder you always go to Eren’s place. It feels like his patience is growing thin, especially when he can just barely make out the curve of your ass with how short your skirt is. With minimal warning, Floch pulls you onto him as you go to sit on the bed, your skirt hitching up when you take a seat on his lap. The surprised gasp that leaves your mouth is almost enough to get Floch hard. You’ve been teasing him all day, this is only right. “Floch-”
“Please, just give me a chance,” Floch says, warm breath fanning against your face. This feels wrong, very wrong. Sure, you and Eren weren’t in a relationship, and while neither of you ever made it exclusive, there was still an underlying understanding that you two were for each other. That was only on top of you not being sure about Floch. If you let him do whatever he has in mind, he’d get even more clingy. He’d try to weasel his way into being your boyfriend. Sure, he’s cute and it’s fun to see him squirm as his face grows increasingly red, but did you really like him past that? You don’t want to lead the poor man on, especially not when you already have Eren.
Well, to say you have him may be an overstatement.
“I’ll be good, just as good as Eren,” Floch says whilst nuzzling into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in. There’s a bit of shock that he would bring Eren’s name up, but you suppose after the party he and Eren had a little “chat”. Besides, most people could guess you two had something going on. His hands are gentle and unsure as they feel your body, his now flexed thigh presses further between your legs. A ripple of uncertain desire spreads from your core. “I’ll do anything you want.”
Well, Eren had multiple chances to make things exclusive between you two. So you nod, giving him the approval he was so desperate for. “Alright.”
He latches onto your neck, sloppy open kisses to your throat and collar bones. While a little clumsy at first, he quickly gets the hang of it. One hand snakes up behind you, under your shirt, and fiddles with the strap of your bra. His palm and his fingers are cold, you lean into him further because of it. Soon the other bra strap joins it before you feel the undergarment loosening on your shoulders and chest. He’s is quick to yank your already low-cut shirt further down. Your bra was torn down with it, Floch briefly looking up to you for approval. But, he doesn’t wait for you to give any, taking your gasp and the way your pelvis twitches and rubs against his thigh as his answer. Your breasts are left exposed, and Floch wastes no time in feeling them up and getting his mouth on them. Sucking, kissing, biting, pinching, everything he can to get the best reaction out of you.
“Ah, Floch!” He’s either really good at this, or you’re really sensitive. You can’t remember the last time Eren paid this much attention to your chest. Floch, whether you realize it or not, is paying an awful lot of attention to how you react to his touch. Whether you like being pinched and bitten more versus the kitten licks and kisses to your nipple, where you’re most sensitive, Floch has to know. He needs to know, anything to keep you coming back for more. He can feel you trying to hold yourself back, twitching against him and trying not to outright grind on his leg. Are you embarrassed? Floch wonders if you’ve ever had sex with anyone other than Eren. He hopes you haven’t. He adjusts you in his lap slightly to give himself more room for what he has next in mind, your back arching to close the gap between you two.
His hand moves down to under your skirt, fingers pressed against the wet spot of your underwear. There’s a sense of pride that he was able to get you just that more ready for him. Floch’s fingers slip past your panties, pushing them to the side in the process. He wants to feel you, feel what Eren felt in the library just an hour or so earlier, and you as Eren did. His fingers brush against the flesh, and a nervous jolt runs through his body. He’s in over his head, clearly, but why stop? Your folds are soft to the touch, like velvet on his fingertips. He lets out a few shaky breaths, your bare chest pressed against his clothed one as he tries to get a feel for what you like. His digits curl inside of you and you let out a choked gasp, your own fingers tangled in his dusty red hair. “Can I put it in? Please?” He asks after a short moment, unable to take how his cock is straining and begging to be paid attention to. You nod feverishly, adjusting yourself slightly as Floch unzips his pants, eager to fuck you.
He pushes your dampened panties to the side, his cock spearing you. You let out another whimper and gasp, forced to take all of him at once. You roll your hips against his, the dorm room becoming filled with soft moans and choked gasps and whines as you both try to keep the noise down, not wanting to garner any attention. Floch bounces you in his lap, hips thrusting up into you. You’re chest to chest with the man, his arms holding you in place. He lets you control the speed and rhythm, only there to serve your needs. “Fuck, fuck you’re so perfect.” He gasps, choked whines escaping him. “Are you going to cum?” He asks, though you aren’t quite there. You don’t answer him, gripping his hair and pressing yourself further into him, your head dipped and your face buried in the crook of his neck. You both keep up the lewd motions, and when you look up to meet his gaze you end up in an incredibly sloppy makeout session with Floch.
When he cums, when your cunt squeezes around his cock more than it already has been he feels like he could die right there. His head dips and he hides his face in the crook of your neck, red hair brushing against your cheek and jaw. Floch doesn’t know what he did to deserve an angel like you bouncing on his cock. Still, it isn’t enough; and perhaps nothing ever will be enough. After he’s caught his breath, after you’ve milked him of all he’s worth, Floch lets you pull yourself off him, watching you lie down on your bed properly. You’re sweaty and tired, and while you may be done, having came at around the same time he is, Floch isn’t. He lazily puts his dick back in his pants, zipping them back before crawling on top of you in bed. Your chest was still exposed and he can see the marks beginning to form on your skin.
He comes to rest next to you, head perched next to your shoulder as he cups your breast farthest from him. Floch lazily gropes at the flesh, circling over your nipple and catching it between his thumb and index finger. It’s more of a comfort, something to do absentmindedly while he thinks about other things. You hardly react to him, Floch wonders if you’re bored. He certainly is. He moves back on top of you, wanting to go for round two. He’s getting greedy, and he should stop while he’s ahead, but how can he? Floch can’t be blamed for wanting more of you, if anything you enticed him, bringing him to your dorm room in that tiny little outfit.
“Floch, no,” You whine, nervously glancing at the door. Your roommate, Annie, hadn’t told you what time she would be back, and while usually, she was out for long periods of time, you didn’t want today to be the day she showed up early. “Okay, okay, just let me clean you up, baby.” Floch lowers himself, sitting on his haunches while you still are splayed out beneath him. He brings your skirt up higher, getting a proper look at your panties, his cum still oozing out past them. To his dismay, you’re already trying to shield his view, crossing your legs and bringing your knees up. When he looks up to your face, you’ve begun to cover your breasts with your shirt the best you can manage. At this rate you’re going to ask Floch to leave, and who knows if you’ll ever let him fuck you again. His hands rest on your knees, forcing your legs apart for him. He was fine with not being as forceful before, pleading with you and pining for your approval; but he can’t let you slip out of his grasp now. Not yet.
“Floch-“ Your voice betrays your actions, breathy and in need of more. “Please baby, just let me do this.” He says, not waiting for an answer as he’s already peeling your panties off your body. You need to tell him to stop, with the pet name and with what he’s doing; but you’re not sure if you want him to. He goes further down, angling his head now with your pussy. You open yourself up to him, somewhat reluctantly as he goes down on you. His attempt at giving you oral is a bit amateurish, but he’s so enthusiastic that it makes up for it. His tongue swirls around your clit once he finds it, then up and down your folds. It makes you shudder with ecstasy as he laps up his own cum, nose prodding your clit.
You’re so caught up in the pleasure you don’t realize Eren’s left you twelve missed calls and thirty unread messages.
-
Eren knows you hate deepthroating, especially when he asks you to do it for extended periods of time. How it hurts your jaw and makes you tear up; but you look so cute warming his dick up in your throat that he can’t help but constantly ask. Besides, Eren always makes it up to you, like how he’s doing now.
“What, so you only like fucking him when it’s behind my back?” Eren says, an undercurrent of hurt in his voice. While you and Eren weren’t exactly exclusive, perhaps you did owe it to him to at least let him know before you started fooling around with other guys. You don’t say anything, you can’t, not with Floch’s length taking up all of the room in your throat. You can’t even look back at Eren, Floch’s hand on your head to keep you in place. Floch, for his part, seemed almost unabashed by the situation. He wasn’t as nervous as he was the last time you fucked him. Though his eagerness to please and want for praise still lingers, it shows itself in his movements and his repeated glances at Eren for direction.
Part of this was intended to be a form of punishment since you wanted to keep fooling around with him after Eren told you he wanted you to at least distance yourself from Floch. If you want to have both of them, he’ll let you have them. Besides, there was a certain joy in being able to see Floch squirm and being unable to keep up with pleasuring you. Maybe then the two of you would get the message that your pussy belongs to Eren, and Floch, try as he might, just couldn’t compare.
All three of you are still somewhat clothed, Floch and Eren more than you. The leggings you were wearing had been tugged off completely by Eren (Floch had held down your arms and kept you in a sort of bear hug whilst you were splayed out on the couch in front of Eren), and your shirt and bra had been hitched all the way up close to your collarbone, your chest on display for the two of them. The couch was barely enough for two people to get it on, let alone three– but they were both eager to get on with it too care. Floch was a bit too enamored with the idea of spending time with both of you to realize Eren might have an ulterior motive for this, and the idea of Eren inviting you and Floch (and no one else) over to “watch a movie” was so out of character that you knew something had to be up. You should have figured out something was up when the two kept exchanging glances once you finally showed up at Eren’s place,
It wasn’t until Floch decided to start bragging to Eren that he got the idea for all of this.
You can barely focus on Floch, his lovestruck gaze, and his hand on your head. Every gasp and breathy moan of his while you nurse his sensitive cock, you can hardly hear it when Eren is behind you ramming his hips into you and grabbing your ass. He’s going with such intensity that you have to be careful not to bite down for some relief. Eren’s thrusts only continue, deep and hard, the tip of his dick nearly hitting your cervix. Each snap of his hips presses you that bit closer to Floch, who's more than happy to have his dick further stuffed down your throat. He can feel the vibration of your throat each time you moan or whine, as muffled as it may be, and it drives him wild.
Your teeth briefly graze Floch’s cock and he shudders with a loud gasp. His hips twitch forward, forcing you to take even more of him. He has to know how uncomfortable you are, but he’s so lost in his own pleasure that he seems to not care. Perhaps he plans on making it up to you later. His pubic hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, and
Floch cums first with a low whine, holding onto your hair and the back of your head while his cock twitches in your mouth and hot cum flows into your mouth. It’s a lot, enough to dribble out of your mouth if he removed his cock. He doesn’t pull out, pathetic noises coming from the back of his throat. He continues to overstimulate himself with the sensation of your throat and insides of your mouth, while Eren is still going. His face is even more red, and though it’s hard to tell from this angle, he seems slightly bothered. His gaze flicks back to Eren every few seconds, it doesn’t seem like Floch is going to pull out of you until Eren does.
“You finished? Already?” Eren suddenly speaks up, and the back of Floch’s neck burns with a distinct embarrassment. “Yeah,” Floch answers sheepishly. “Well get your dick out of her mouth.”
With that, Floch pulls out and his cum pools at the corner of your lips and spills out as Eren fucks you with such fervor that you moan out before you can swallow it all. It drips out onto the couch cushion, a sudden boldness strikes Floch as he sees you, getting fucked stupid by Eren with his cum running down your chin. “Hey, clean that up. Don’t let it stain on his couch.” He tells you, his hand still tangled in your hair, holding it firmly. The arch of your back deepens as you try to catch your breath, angling your face lower down to lick up Floch’s cum from Eren’s couch. Eren looks up, trying to see what you’re doing. “Hah- she’s really eating it up like that?”
They exchange a few more words that you don’t quite catch, though you can tell they’re amused by your actions. You’re so out of it and needing a release that you’d do anything. You’re forced to pay attention to something that isn’t the rhythmic thrusts of Eren and his dick when his hand comes down and tugs on your hair, which incidentally makes you look up and make eye contact with Floch. “C'mon, tell him whose pussy this is,” Eren says in a half-growl. You hesitate, letting out a few pathetic whines as Eren keeps going, unrelenting. “It’s yours, Eren-“ You breathe out, but it isn’t enough for him. “Louder. Say my name.” Eren says, his own breath hitching in his throat at the intensity of it all. “Eren, Eren, Eren Eren Eren,” You moan, unable to take it any longer.
Floch sits himself on the arm seat of the couch, only inches away from where you’re getting fucked and licking up the last of his cum. Floch lets out a small moan at the sight, if he were any less lucid he might have thought it was an act of love and not done out of your own lustful depravity. You’re panting and whining and moaning like a bitch in heat, you might as well be with how much Floch thinks you want his dick back in your mouth. He isn’t sure where to look, there are so many good views. He settles on jerking himself off to the big picture, of Eren fucking you doggy style on the couch, of your tits and your ass moving with each thrust from Eren, from the humiliation of being the first to cum, of not being able to properly get you off.
Floch’s hand goes up and down his hard cock, slowly at first, picking up the pace until he’s pumping his cock with a bit of spit in his hand, trying to reduce the friction and get something going for himself. He wants to feel your pussy again. Soon enough, you end up cumming, your walls clenching down on Eren. He doesn’t bother pulling out, nor had he bothered with a condom before any of this. The familiar sensation of cum seeping into your cunt returns when he thrusts one last time. He pulls out of you, letting you remain limp on the couch as he zips his pants back up like nothing happened.
“Here, clean her up,” Eren says to Floch in a dismissive tone. Floch nods, and maneuvers you to lay on your back, still seemingly not done with you. You can hear Eren going to the kitchen, getting himself (and hopefully you), a glass of water. “I’ll get you cleaned up,” Floch croons in a hushed tone, and it’s the first thing he’s said in a while. You mumble something out, a hum acknowledging his words and giving him permission. He lowers himself on the floor, gently moving your sore legs apart so he can get a better view. His tongue is familiar against your pussy, overstimulating even. He’s making a point out of licking up Eren’s cum, which if your brain wasn’t so scrambled you might recognize the layered meaning behind his actions. Eating another man’s cum out of you, as if his life depended on it. Eren’s semen is salty on Floch’s tongue, and it makes his cock twitch again. Mixed in with your own juices and how your warmth radiates onto him, it drives him insane. Briefly, he forgets he wanted to make you feel good, selfishly focusing on his current need for Eren.
When he’s done, Floch snakes his way back up and lazily kisses at your mouth, propping you up on the couch in a sitting position as Eren comes back with some water. You’re once again sat between the two, the whole room smelling of sweat and sex. You end up leaning your head on Eren’s shoulder when he comes to sit on the couch next to you. Floch brushes some of your hair out of your face, which was clinging to your forehead. You let your eyelids flutter shut, on the verge of going to sleep with how exhausted you feel. It doesn’t even matter that you’re mostly naked and that someone’s hands are still kneading and groping at your flesh, you’re not up for round two, not yet anyway. Eren and Floch’s voices seem a bit far away as they talk amongst each other, and suddenly you’re pulled out of your thoughts and into their conversation by Eren, who notices your drained state.
fem!reader x ino takuma
1.6k words
kinks and warnings: established relationship, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, light teasing, dirty talk, spit talk, pet names, creampie
it’s not that unusual of a situation to find yourself in: aimlessly wandering around with ino, looking into reports of some lower-grade curses in the abandoned shopping center. it’s not particularly what you’d had in mind for a friday night, but once nanami had made the request, who were you to say no?
not like ino would’ve listened, anyway, even if you had wanted to ignore nanami.
“we’ve been looking for over an hour,” you comment, glancing over to your partner. “you sure this wasn’t some misunderstanding?”
ino tilts his head curiously, your boyfriend reminding you a lot of an overgrown puppy in the moment. he’s always had that charm about him, you think - a bit dim at times but always so endearing and hardworking, curious about the world around him. he hasn’t changed a lot in the years you’ve known him. “i don’t think nanami-san would send us out here if there was a chance it was a misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “maybe we’re just not lookin’ hard enough.”
you laugh quietly, stepping closer to him. “we’ve circled this place three times by now,” you tell him, resting your palms against his chest. “don’t you want to go home, throw on a movie -.” you lean up, pecking his lips gently. “- maybe have some fun?”
ino’s eyes narrow, one eyebrow raising curiously. “fun, huh?” he asks. in spite of the look he’s giving you, you can see the way his eyes seem to sparkle, both from mischief and intrigue.
“lots of fun,” you say with a grin. “we need to get started decorating for halloween, remember?”
with a click of his tongue and a roll of his eyes, he laughs. “you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer, kissing you once more - a bit more intensely this time, like he really means it. you feel your back press against one of the shopping center’s pillars as his tongue runs across your bottom lip.
your own arms come to rest over his shoulders, caught up in the moment until you feel his hands ghosting underneath the edge of your skirt, coming to rest on your ass. “kuma,” you murmur, tone a clear warning.
“hmm?” he asks, angling his head to press his lips to your neck. “what is it, babe?”
“here?” you ask. “seriously?”
you plan to say more, but the way he pulls at your panties, letting the elastic snap back against your skin, makes you squeal, pushing your hips against his in surprise. then, you can feel him - his half-hard cock pressing against his sweats - and you understand he’s very serious.
“very serious,” he says, and you can feel the smile he’s sporting against your skin. he pulls away to look at you. “this place has been abandoned for ages, and like you said - no curses around. why not?”
the problem with your boyfriend being so charming, so damn lovable is that he rarely hears the word “no” from you. with the boyish grin he’s wearing, you know he won’t be hearing it today, either.
“okay, fine,” you cave, biting your lip briefly before giving him another kiss. “just - quickly, yeah?”
“that’s my girl,” he says with a wink. “turn around for me?”
you do as he asks, turning around and placing your hands flat against the pillar, bent over slightly so that your ass is on display for him as soon as he flips your skirt up. his hand trails down your lower back and over your ass before settling between your thighs, rubbing your clothed core.
“god, i love how easy it is for me to make you wet,” he says. you can hear the pride in his voice, and it only gets you even more excited.
the whine that escapes you isn’t your fault, you tell yourself. “kuma, don’t - don’t say things like that,” you mutter, but it only makes his smirk grow wider.
“i’m right, though, yeah?” he asks, taking another look around before using his free hand to tug his sweats and underwear down his hips, just enough to reveal his dick. he spits into his palm, moving to give himself a few strokes before pulling the damp fabric of your underwear to the side. “don’t even need to get you any more worked up.”
when you feel him tap his length against your pussy, you squirm a little; it only gets worse as he rubs his head up and down your slit, and a moan slips from your lips as it presses against your clit. your nails dig into the column, eager for him to just fuck you already.
“please,” you beg, turning to look at him over your shoulder.
as you do, you feel it - the way he slowly begins to press his length into you, one hand guiding himself, the other arm wrapped around your waist to support you.
“damn, you feel fuckin’ amazing,” he says, letting his head loll back for a moment before looking back to you. “pussy’s so warm and tight.”
you can feel every inch of him as he pulls his hips from yours only to bring them back again, thrusting in and out of you at a pace he knows is your favorite, sure to hit your sweet spot just how you like it. with a moan of his name, your nails drag down the pillar again, leaving scratch marks behind. “f-feels so good,” you whimper. “always makin’ me feel good.”
and he has the nerve to laugh, his chuckle low and breathy as he continues to fuck into you. “that’s my job, pretty girl, huh? gotta keep my girl feelin’ good,” he says, the hand on your hip squeezing your flesh in the most enticing manner.
your breaths grow heavy as you do your best to maintain your hold on the column, and your attentive boyfriend is quick to notice. he pulls out of you briefly, making you whine again, but it doesn’t last long.
“stand up ‘n turn around for me, babe,” he says.
when you do, he quickly presses your back against the pillar, hiking one leg up around his hip before pushing back into your cunt. “oh god,” you cry, resting your forehead against his.
“that better?” he asks. “just hold on to me - i got you.”
you press your lips to his, one hand resting on his cheek as you pull him closer. with every thrust, you feel his pelvic bone brushing against your clit, sending you closer to the edge. when he trails a hand down to add his thumb to the mix, you know you’re in for it.
“k-kuma,” you cry, the tightening in your stomach only growing worse.
“you gonna come for me? gonna cream all over my cock?” he asks with a grunt.
you can only nod as you feel your orgasm wrack your body, head falling against his shoulder as you tremble in his hold. but you’ve barely had time to come down from your own high when you hear his voice shakily say your name.
“close, babe,” he tells you. “where - shit, where do you want it?”
without hesitation, you answer. “inside me,” you insist. “wanna feel you, takuma, please. fill me up.”
your words are unfair, and you know it. you know there’s no faster way to get him to finish than to egg him on with those three little words. unfair, maybe, but so, so sweet-tasting in your mouth.
with one final thrust and a moan that’s music to your ears, he comes inside you, pulling you tighter against him. he kisses you again, hips at a standstill as he reaches up to rest a hand on your cheek. “so good, baby, fuck,” he whispers. his lips move to press kisses to your cheeks, your nose - practically anywhere on your face he can reach. “you okay?”
you give him a smile, nodding eagerly. “felt amazing,” you say softly, matching his tone. “you always make me feel good; you know that.”
he laughs softly, nodding. “maybe. but i still like to hear it,” he says.
the intimate moment is broken by his phone ringing in his pocket. without even pulling out of you, he reaches down to grab the device, answering the call.
the look you give him isn’t enough to make him feel ashamed.
“what’s up?” he says into the phone. you can vaguely hear nanami’s voice on the other end of the line, and you watch ino with a curious expression. “yeah, she and i are there right now. we didn’t see any - yeah, the old shopping center off of nakamichi street.” there’s a pause. “oh. you - you’d meant the one off shichifuku street.”
you have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.
“got it, nanami-san. we’ll, uh - we’ll head that way now. sorry.”
as soon as he hangs up, your laugh echoes through the building. “i can’t believe you,” you manage to get out between laughs. “seriously?”
the faint hint of pink on his cheeks tells you plenty. “shut up,” he mumbles, but there’s still plenty of affection behind it. he carefully pulls out of you, reaching down to adjust your panties and skirt before pulling his sweats back up.
taking your hand, he begins to lead you towards the building’s exit. “come on, pretty girl. let’s see if we can find a bathroom to get you cleaned up in before we get back to work.”
kinktober day one — threesomes ; find the masterlist here
synopsis. you’re professor gojo’s TA—the catch? you both are romantically involved. what do you do when professor geto happens to accidentally walk in on you giving a blowjob? let him fuck you so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t tell a soul, of course
length. 5.1k words (deep, big, heavy sigh)
contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, college au, teacher-student relationships, prof! satoru + suguru, TA! reader, power imbalance, age gaps (reader is early twenties and satoru + suguru are early thirties), semi public sex (at campus in satoru’s office), suguru walking in on you and satoru, threesomes, fingering + blowjobs + hair pulling + throat fucking + cum swallowing (satoru), male masturbation + edging (suguru), unprotected sex + (one) clit slap + creampie (suguru), pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, princess, pretty girl, good girl), not proof read—i am a raw dog kinda gal
notes. i would highly discourage having intimate relations with a professor—but….if your professor looks like gojo or geto, i’m blind babe. i ain’t see nothing. i won’t tell a soul
“you guys wanna get lunch?” nobara hums, “we’re all here.”
megumi, as always, looks like he’s about to say no—he probably wants to go home as quickly as possible. but that’s not an option because before he can, yuji has already piped up with an enthusiastic, “yeah! i’m down.”
you fiddle your fingers nervously—how are you supposed to get out of this one? you’d just used the excuse of grading assignments for satoru yesterday, and surely you couldn’t possibly have a fresh pile of them to grade again within twenty-four hours, right? it’d be a suspicious excuse, especially one for nobara, who seems to sniff out a lie a little too easily.
it’s not that you don’t want to hang out with your friends, you love them. really. but you promised you’d be in satoru’s office in fifteen minutes—and you’re not about to keep him waiting, so lunch will have to wait for another time.
you’re still thinking of a usable excuse when she turns to you herself, unimpressed as she dryly says, “i assume you have some midterm review to help him polish or something,” she grumbles, “gojo is so lazy,” she scoffs.
oh—well, that wasn’t very hard. she’s just made it ten times easier for you. nobara has handed you the perfect excuse right in the palm of your hand, and before you can even play it off casually, yuji cuts in and distracts her. bless yuji, you think to yourself.
“hey, professor gojo is a great guy! we all passed with an A! isn’t that great?”
“everyone gets an A in his class, dumbass,” megumi grunts, rolling his eyes, “not getting an A in his class practically means you’re deliberately trying to do poorly.”
on campus, professor gojo is a fan favorite—his rate my professor score is a perfect five stars, and most of the students around campus rave about him. why? because he gives out the letter grade A+ like it’s candy. anyone would love a professor like that.
he doesn’t ever take attendance or knock your grade down when you skip class, his assignments are always easy to google answers to, and the quizzes have unlimited time and attempts. his tests are straightforward enough that even if you never pay attention, doing the review he uploads is sure to help you cram enough to pass. and what’s better? he always adds a generous curve. not only that, but professor gojo is a friendly guy—he loves talking to his students, loves to ramble away if you stop him in the halls or visit during office hours, loves to listen to your stories and nod along in interest, loves to crack jokes and have a good laugh.
everyone loves professor gojo. and when they leave his class with an A+, they love him even more.
you had an A+ in physics yourself when you took his class—and you hate physics. you hated it in high school, and you hate it now. but for gojo satoru? you’re almost a physics enthusiast. professor gojo—or rather, satoru, as you call him now, takes a liking to you. a very…strong liking, if you will.
it all starts on a fateful monday afternoon two semesters ago—it’s one thirty pm, the busiest hour on campus. sometimes, it feels like everyone takes classes at one pm—and as such, getting a table in the university coffee shop is almost impossible. you’re just about to give up and leave with your coffee and sandwich after scanning the place when a wave of a hand catches your attention.
it’s professor gojo.
need a seat? he asks you, gesturing at the chair in front of him at his table—it’s a smooth, amused little drawl, the way he talks. it’s almost always a borderline teasing tone, and his voice is low enough that it sounds oddly enticing. you’ve heard enough girls lust over his voice in class to know you’re not the only one who sometimes appreciates the sound.
you try to insist that you wouldn’t want to intrude, but professor gojo is a nice guy; always looks out for his students and helps them out. so, when he insists that he doesn’t mind you taking the spare seat as he grades a few assignments, well…you decide to sheepishly thank him and sit across from him, finally having somewhere to sit and eat before you’re off to your next class.
and then it begins.
every now and then, you sit across from your physics professor in the crowded coffee shop on campus as you enjoy a cold brew and a sandwich before your next class. somehow, he always manages to snatch a table, and somehow, you always manage to find him. you like to ramble to him sometimes—how professor nanami is a bit too strict for your liking (he giggles at that), how professor ieri always seems too tired and miserable to be here (he nods and agrees), and how professor geto is nice, but he takes literature pretty seriously (he gives you an amused look at that as he hums.)
somewhere along the line, he asks you to be his TA for the following semester—and somewhere further along that line…well, perhaps the one-on-one talks as you sit together at a table for two felt a little too close to something of a romantic setting because you and professor gojo kiss in his office while he calls you in to explain your TA responsibilities.
that was never supposed to happen.
you don’t even remember who leaned in first, or whose arms were the first to wrap around the other, or who tugged who closer, but you both kiss. and then some. and then it happens again, and again, and again—and, well…you’re professor gojo’s, or better yet, satoru’s best kept secret.
you go to his office to grade assignments for him—in between if he steals a few kisses, who’s to know? sometimes, he’s a bit riskier, likes to spread his legs and free his cock and have your hand stroke him as he eyes the door. it’s always a nice view to watch him unbutton a few buttons of his shirt and bite back moans. other days, he likes to slip his hand past your waistband and toy with your clit—the amused glint in his eyes, as he tells you not to get distracted and keep grading when you gasp always, earns him a sharp glare.
it’s like that for the semester, just you and him in his little office where you can break the rules in the safety of secrecy.
that is, until now.
admittedly, this isn’t the best time to be doing this—professor geto likes to have lunch with satoru around this time, and you know you’re cutting it close…but he just looks so pretty like this, head fallen back against his chair as his lips part with a soft gasp.
you’re on your knees, looking up as you suck on the tip of his stiff cock before taking him down your throat, bobbing your head up and down. it’s a rewarding position to be in—to have the hot, loved, campus favorite professor that everyone thirsts over falling apart in your mouth, hands gripping the arms of his chair as he pants harshly above you.
he looks pretty—always does, always looks good enough that you can feel the ache between your legs get worse. the messy strands of his hair stick to his damp forehead, and his lips are always so pink and plump when he bites them like that, and who can forget the way his eyes turn just a shade darker of that bright blue?
you hum around him, making him groan as he mumbles, “f-fuck, you’re so good, sweetheart—always know how to make me feel good.”
you press a kiss to his tip, smearing the bead of pre cum leaking from his slit along your lips before licking them clean—he closes his eyes and groans at that. you can’t help but giggle, can’t help but press more kisses along his hardened length until you’re at the base of his cock.
“pretty little lips,” he hums, reaching to rub his thumb over your bottom lip as you open your mouth, letting him slip into your mouth—he hums approvingly as your tongue swirls around the digit, sucking slowly. “‘s like you were made for taking me, huh?”
“‘course i was,” you grin cheekily—and then you’re back to sucking on his cock, tongue rubbing over that thick vein you love to trace and reaching a hand to play with his balls. he moans—it’s low but still whiny enough that you can’t help but feel so proud at how needy he is, how desperately he always wants you. no matter the risk.
except the risk is probably not the wisest one to test today because just as satoru lets out a particularly loud whine when you swallow around him, the door clicks open and…
oh.
oh no.
this…this isn’t good—this is terrible, in fact. this is the worst possible outcome to the worst possible thing you’ve done, and now you’re screwed. entirely destroyed, in fact—the both of you. here goes your admission and your progress on your degree, and here goes satoru’s entire career and everything he’s worked for, and all because you couldn’t help but give him a blowjob in the middle of his office with the door unlocked where his best friend can walk right in and get a full view.
and worse? this best friend of his happens to be another professor on campus who you happen to have had just last semester. you’re sure he knows you; you’re his former student, after all, and he must certainly know his best friend’s TA.
professor geto blinks—his eyes go back and forth between you and satoru and the still-hard cock between his legs that’s glistening with your spit as you sit on your knees. yeah—there’s no explaining this one.
“well,” he says blankly, “i guess that’s on me for not knocking, huh?”
“suguru,” satoru grumbles, “some of us are busy y’know? can’t you come back later?”
you turn to satoru in shock—how can he be so normal about this? how can he just casually act like this is some random hook-up his friend walked in on instead of a (very illegal and very unprofessional) teacher-student relationship that could get the two of you in more trouble than you can comprehend?
but professor geto doesn’t seem even the slightest bit concerned. there’s no look of disgust or panic or even anger at you and satoru for your unprofessional habits. there’s no alarm at the distasteful activities you’re doing in the middle of a university office where anyone could potentially walk in on. and then there’s satoru—he doesn’t even bother making himself decent or pulling you from your knees.
no, instead, he looks at professor geto in slight irritation as the latter stands there.
“so this is what you’re always busy doing in your office, huh?” professor geto hums, chuckling in amusement, “i have to say, you at least have good taste, satoru. she’s excellent in and outside the classroom, it seems.”
“yeah, she’s a keeper,” satoru hums, cupping your cheek as he grins down at you, “now if you don’t mind, suguru, we’re in the middle of something.”
“and what do you plan on doing if this gets around?” professor geto raises a brow, unimpressed.
you look at him in panic at that—surely…surely he can’t mean that he would be the one to spread this around, right? surely he wouldn’t throw his best friend under the bus, correct? if not for you, then for satoru’s sake, he’d never let this information find another soul. otherwise…otherwise you’ll both lose everything. all the hard work and progress you’ve made, all of satoru’s experience and years building his career, and all the future opportunities you had coming up—all of it will be for nothing if professor geto says one word.
people wouldn’t have a hard time believing it either, you think. sometimes your own friends like to poke fun at you themselves.
you’re always with him, are you sure you’re not in love with the guy at this point? nobara always likes to snort at you.
why does professor gojo even keep you around? you’re too lazy—you must give good head, megumi tends to tease as he raises a brow with amused eyes.
with how often you’re in professor gojo’s room, you might as well have a crush on him, yuji sometimes giggles.
surely, with how often you’re seen in the coffee shop with him as he grades papers and how often he likes to tease you when you show up to his classroom sometimes to drop off papers, students would certainly take the rumors and spread them like wildfire if professor geto says even the littlest thing.
you look at him with wobbly lips as you whisper, “please don’t tell anyone,” you sniffle, “i…maybe there’s something we can do…to keep you from…”
the two of them look at you in shock—they stare at you for a moment, stare at the crystalline tears welling up in your eyes, at the soft little tremor in your lips, at the sweet little sniffles you try to hide. then, as if in sync, their eyes meet each other’s before finding you once more.
“oh, that’s precious,” professor geto chuckles, “she really is a keeper, satoru—she even looks pretty when she cries. i’m almost jealous.”
“don’t look for too long, suguru,” satoru grumbles—and then, “listen, sweetheart, you don’t have to worry. suguru’s not gonna—”
“well, if there is something you’d wanna do for me,” professor geto cuts satoru off, his voice a low drawl as he walks closer, hand cupping your jaw as he tilts your face up, “i suppose i can keep my mouth shut.”
“anything,” you nod quickly.
you’re so eager to please, he thinks—so perfect and sweet and pliant, that suguru thinks he might actually really be jealous that somehow, it was satoru who caught your attention. how did this all start? when did it start? how long has it been going on? do you have real feelings for each other? or is it just a pleasurable business kind of deal? do you meet up outside of campus? does he take you to the next town over to freely walk around with you on dates? do you kiss sweetly sometimes instead of with hunger? have you ever spent a night in his bed? do you sleep better beside each other, wrapped in the other’s arms?
there are so many, many questions suguru wants to ask. the potential answers to all of them make him a bit more unhappy than he cares to admit. something in him wonders how things might’ve had to play out in order to land you in his office instead—but…but if you’re offering anything, why not take advantage of the offer?
“anything?” he asks, looking at you amused, “you know, princess, anything is a dangerous offer. what if i asked to join? what if i asked to fuck you here in this office so your secret is safe?”
you blink up at him for a moment at his words—they’re a bit shocking. professor geto…doesn’t think this is wrong? clearly, he doesn’t if he’s willing to take part. but that doesn’t sound half bad. not even in the slightest.
they’re a popular pair: professor gojo and geto are all people on campus ever talk about. those two professors who happen to be best friends. they’re not much older than you either—can’t be past their early thirties, even if they don’t look a day over twenty.
did you know they used to go to college together? i heard they’ve known each other since high school. apparently, they applied to work here together and only took the offer up once the other agreed. it’s all people ever gossip about when they mention them both. it’s always about how close they are, how deep their bond is, how there is never one without the other. and then, of course, there are those…the less than appropriate comments you occasionally hear the other girls make. i bet professor gojo gives the best head—he’s always sucking on some lollipop. i’d let professor geto do nasty things to me while i read his literature books out loud to him—he’s too fine. i can take both of them—and i don’t mean their classes.
it’s…not exactly a bad offer that he gives you, you think to yourself. it’s an enticing one, in fact. you get to have them both—professor geto isn’t any less attractive than satoru and…and well, you’d really like for him to keep this a secret, so it’s a bit of a win-win. plus, you’re sure he wouldn’t risk spilling such delicate information when it would put his career at risk, too—it seems like the perfect leverage.
you look at your old literature professor with a nod as you murmur, “then i’d say you should make sure to lock the door this time—we don’t want to make the same mistake twice, do we?”
his eyes sparkle in amusement at that, a low chuckle falling from his pretty lips as he shakes his head at you—you’re even better than he expected. satoru is so, so lucky he’s got to have you to himself all this time. it’s criminally unfair.
“hey,” satoru pouts from behind, still sitting in his chair and still painfully hard as his throbbing cock sits between his legs unattended. “you both are forgetting about me,” he whines.
professor geto—or rather, suguru, you suppose, only looks at his best friend in amusement. “now, satoru—what have i always told you about sharing? here—” he walks over and pulls satoru to stand before taking the seat himself and patting his thigh as he looks at you with a sly grin, “why don’t i get to feel your pussy, and satoru can have your mouth like before? then we both get what we want.”
“bossy as ever, suguru,” satoru chuckles, but there’s something in his eyes—something darker and more excited than you’ve ever seen them.
“get her ready for me,” suguru hums, fingers making quick work to unbuckle his belt and free his hardened cock. you can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch as he wraps his fist around his hardened length and runs his thumb through his slit with a low moan.
he’s not as long, but he’s thicker than satoru—you can easily tell he won’t be any easier to take. you watch attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of his cock with this thumb as he strokes upward, rolling around his tip before stroking down and squeezing at the base. you watch his lips tug between his teeth, a soft moan ripping from his throat as he touches himself in the way he likes best.
you’ll remember what he likes, you think—you can sense this might not be your first and last opportunity to see suguru like this. and next time? well, next time, it’ll be your hand touching his cock and pulling those pretty little sighs and groans from him instead of his own.
“eyes on me, sweetheart,” satoru hums, pulling you to stand before gently guiding your back to fall against his desk, fingers looping into your waistband and pulling your pants down your legs. you can hear the sharp inhale suguru takes as soon as the wetness of your folds is on display, as soon as your puffy clit and dripping pussy are there for him to see so clearly. “watch carefully, suguru,” satoru grins, “she’s pretty when she cums.”
“i can imagine,” suguru muses, “alright then. show me.”
instantly, satoru’s fingers are intruding into your cunt—it’s familiar, the sensation of his digits bullying past your folds and curling against your sweet spot. he’s already knuckles deep, already pressing the tips of his fingers into the back of your walls as far as they’ll go, spreading you open and scissoring you apart. it feels good—it always does, and when his palm rolls across your clit? you can’t help but let out a whiny moan that earns a groan from suguru as he fists his cock tighter.
“god, she even sounds so pretty,” he pants, watching as satoru’s fingers slip in and out of your pretty cunt, at the way it all but sucks them in itself as it flutters around him. everything about you is perfect—but your face is by far suguru’s favorite. the way it twists with pleasure as satoru slams his fingers against your spot mercilessly with every thrust of his wrist has him fighting off his orgasm—his fist slowing down to a teasing edge as he grunts at the way he lets his pleasure die down for the sake of really feeling you.
“that feel good, angel?” satoru asks, grinning down at you.
you nod quickly, head thrown back against the wooden desk as you stutter, “y-yes…s-so good, toru.”
“toru?” suguru asks, “do i get a nickname too? make sure you come up with one for me, yeah?”
it’s almost like you don’t hear him, too busy on the way satoru drags along your walls with every time his fingers sink into you. “toru, toru—s-slow down, ‘m g-gonna…”
“slow down?” satoru gasps—his pace only quickens at that as he gives you a mocking pout, “you want me to slow down, sweetheart? you never ask me to slow down, it’s always faster, toru. faster, please! from you. you don’t wanna give suguru the wrong idea, do you? he’ll think i haven’t taught you how to take it like a good girl.”
suguru snorts at that, slowly dragging his hand up and down his sensitive cock—it’s red at the tip, flushed, and leaky enough that it’s easy to tell he’s aching for release.
“hurry up, satoru,” he grits, biting his lip as he fights back another orgasm and stills his hand, keeping it tightened around the base of his length, “we haven’t got all day.”
“can’t rush making my pretty girl cum, suguru,” satoru gasps, “she deserves the best. look at this pussy—” he gives pulls his fingers out to give your clit attention, rubbing your slick over the sensitive bud as you gasp, writhing over his desk, “—see how perfect it is? you gotta treat it like that too.”
as if from his words alone, as if you get off on the way satoru praises your cunt to his best friend who watches you get stuffed to the brim with his fingers, you whimper before cumming—your pussy fluttering around nothing, walls spasming and dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.
“toru—toru, ‘m cumming…cumming—oh,” you babble, thighs quivering as his thumb doesn’t let up from your abused clit, watching as your hand reaches for his wrist weakly to halt his movements. “‘s too much,” you sniffle.
“too much?” suguru gasps, “how will you take me, then, princess? don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”
“nah,” satoru grins, chuckling, “she’s got plenty left in her. she can take it.” with that, he hooks an arm under your waist and helps you sit up, leaning down to kiss you softly as you let out a muffled whine against his lips. “you’re ready for suguru, aren’t you, baby? prepped you nice and good to take him, didn’t i?”
you nod, mumbling a soft, “uh huh,” in agreement.
“that’s my good girl,” he coos, grinning as he presses a wet kiss to your forehead.
suguru, patient as ever with a stiff, aching cock standing between his muscled thighs, holds an arm out for you as he murmurs, “c’mere then, princess. can’t back out of our deal yet, can you?” you walk over to him on wobbly legs, letting him pull you to sit on his lap, back flush against his chest as his hands guide your hips. he taps the head of his cock against your clit as he lines your entrance up with his length before pulling you to sit, slowly inching you down on him bit by bit as he gasps at the way you squeeze around him instantly. “h-holy—fuck, such a tight fuckin’ pussy. ‘s like i can barely even move,” he grunts, chin resting on your shoulder as he pants.
satoru walks over, staring down at you as you’re seated on suguru’s lap before cupping your cheek and rubbing over the soft skin with his thumb. “you can take both of us, right sweetheart? you’re just too good not to, aren’t ya?”
you nod eagerly, letting the tip of his cock tap against your lip, tongue moving to lick across his slit and make him groan. he’s painfully hard—cock swollen and neglected for so long, you almost forgot that he’s been waiting for your mouth to take him again after being interrupted. your jaw slacks as you let him thrust his hips and fuck his length into you, tip hitting the back of your throat as you choke around him.
“fuck,” satoru hisses lowly, biting his lip as his hands grab your hair and keep you in place while he ruts into your mouth, “fuck, baby. never get tired of how good this mouth feels—takes me so fuckin’ well. jus’ love feelin’ me down your throat, huh?”
you can’t do anything but let out a muffled cry, feeling the fat tip of suguru’s cock nudge against your sweet spot—it’s just as effortless: the way he finds your most sensitive part. just as effortless as satoru. maybe that’s why they get along so well, maybe they’re connected in that way.
“oh, princess,” suguru moans, panting against your ear as he lets out a breathy moan, “fuck, that’s good—so, good. can hardly move with the way you’re squeezing me. greedy little pussy, isn’t it?”
you whine as you feel his arm wrap around you, finger rolling over your puffy clit as his hips snap upwards and fuck into you, cock dragging along your walls and stretching you enough that you can hardly think straight. he’s big—it feels like he’s almost splitting you open with his girth as his hips roll up and sink him deeper into your cunt.
“she’s…she’s perfect,” suguru pants, “keepin’ this all to yourself? how selfish of you, satoru.”
“she’s mine,” satoru whines, cock pushing past your lips as he speaks, the way your tongue glides along his vein making his cheeks flush as his eyes flutter shut and his mouth falls open with a breathless moan. “she’s too good to share with you. you d-don’t deserve her.”
“yeah? and you do?” suguru chuckles—it sounds more like a labored pant, his breath harsh as he groans into your neck when you flutter particularly tightly around him, forehead falling to dig into your shoulder, “she’s suckin’ me in. think she wants me. don’t you, pretty girl? you want me to cum inside you, right? make you mine too?”
“y-yes,” you mewl, popping off satoru’s length as you whimper when suguru chuckles and gives your clit a light slap, back arching against him as he pushes his cock past your folds again, “yes, wan’ it. wan’ it so, so bad—need it.”
“see,” he raises a brow towards satoru, “knew it.”
you can see the way satoru’s cock twitches at that—at the way you fall apart on suguru’s lap as the latter digs his head into your shoulder as he breathes harshly, chasing his release desperately as he ruts into your slick pussy. you can see the way satoru’s tip is flushed a harsh red, leaking with pre cum as he aches to spill cum down your throat, so you let him push past your lips once more—but not before giving his tip a delicate kiss.
“she’s my girl,” satoru grunts, “mine, mine, mine—knows how to make me cum. kn-knows how to take me so good, right baby?”
and as if to answer him, you suck around his tip, swallowing around his length and making him groan as his hips stutter and cum paints your throat white as it fills your mouth. you try to swallow every drop, try to take what he gives you as he fucks into you desperately and chases the pleasure of his high. thick, hot ropes of cum spill from the corners of your lips as satoru fucks his load into you, panting as his hips sloppily roll and work himself through his orgasm.
“that’s right, sweetheart,” he groans lowly, “take it, yeah? god—fuck, feels so good, baby. ‘m c-cumming.”
you make a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp as suguru’s thumb rubs harshly against your swollen clit, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he groans, hips just as sloppy as satoru’s in his pace that it tells you he’s close too—and then he twitches into your pussy, cock burying into you once, twice, three more times before he groans too.
“gonna cum, princess? ‘cause ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum—fill you up and make you mine. you want that right? want me to—f-fuck, fuck ‘m close, so close,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, letting out a needy whine into your skin before spilling into you. you can feel hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as his tip nudges back into you and pushes his load as deep as he can.
and you fall apart too, coming undone a second time as your walls hug around him tightly, head falling back as you mewl a high pitched, “s-sugu—c-can’t…’s too much—”
“you can take it, pretty,” he hums, “know you can. you’re too precious not to, right?”
it’s messy—it’s downright filthy, in fact, the way his cum and your slick mix and drip along your inner thighs, making a mess on satoru’s chair. you pant as your pussy pulses around him before coming down from your high, falling slack in his arms against his chest as he chuckles and presses a kiss to your jaw.
“fuck,” he breathes, “you’re something else. who’d have thought my favorite little student from a previous semester could do all that?”
“isn’t she a dime?” satoru chuckles proudly, reaching for the corner of your mouth with his thumb, collecting a stray drop of cum and pushing it back past your lips and onto your tongue, humming approvingly as you swallow. “precious, isn’t she?”
“of course,” suguru nods, with a grin, leaning to peck your shoulder, “so, tell me. which professor would you take again?”
satoru purses his lips as he glares. “this isn’t rate my professor, suguru. and don’t get used to thi—”
“well,” you hum, interrupting as you bat your lashes sweetly at both of them, “why i can’t just take both of you again?”
guess who’s posting their october first kinktober fic literally 40 mins before it’s october second ?? if it’s not procrastinated, it’s not reached its full potential
— takuma ino misses your adorable little face and your even more adorable moans while he's away for a mission.
( cw ) ⸻ female anatomy describe, her/she pronouns, black coded reader, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, overstimulation, phone sex, feminine pet names, mentions of cum, mentions of spit, spit usage, told in third pov cause it's through ino's eyes, established relationship (reader and ino are dating), ino hive we up and running, reader is a college student, ino is away for a mission, wc: 2.1k, minors dni ! repost from old account!
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀dedicated to the hottest ino simp ever @honeybleed
THE MOONLIGHT SHINED THROUGH THE CREAM-COLORED HOTEL CURTAINS. The sound of the hotel room's air conditioner hummed alongside the nude-colored walls as the only form of light that illuminated the room was from Ino's cell phone. His black shaded hair fell into his face while texting on his cellphone. He immediately updated Kiyotaka Ijichi on the mission, admitting that he'll return to Tokyo tomorrow noon. He couldn't wait to return home.
Specifically, he couldn't wait to go home to his girlfriend who loved complaining about him coming to her home bruised and battered after an eventful mission of fighting curses. His brown-colored eyes traveled the miniature alarm clock on the hotel's nightstand before going back to his phone. "She's probably sleeping," He uttered to himself.
But that didn't stop him from sending the notorious text that always leads to something devious.
You Up?
When he heard the familiar sound of his message going through, he waited to see if she would read it. Which she did immediately. He felt his lips curl into a smile seeing the text bubbles pop up indicating that she was typing. Similar to a dog getting a big fat treat, Ino's face lit up seeing her text message. He hated to admit that the young woman made him go weak on the knees on some days. He hated to admit just how love-sick he was when his stomach would form the most hideous knots thinking about her when he was out putting his life on the line. The bone-chilling feeling of possibly not making it back to her always was a thought Ino was forced to push out of his head countless times. Even when he had gotten a small cut or bruise, he still hated the look of worry that decorated her face when she saw him.
His thoughts were briefly interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Her contact photo of her smiling right back at Ino flashed on the screen. He assumed that she must have missed him just as much as he missed her. When he let the pad of his thumb press the green-colored accept button on his phone screen, his face lit up in the darkness seeing that beautiful smile on her face. Even though her lights were dimmed a bit in her room, he still could see that smile that made him fall for her.
"What are you still doing up so late?" Don't you have class in the morning?" Ino jokingly questioned, his eyebrows knitted together in a playful look of confusion.
"My class isn't until noon, so I'll be okay. I just wanted to make sure my boyfriend is okay since he's out slaying curses and whatnot," She sighed.
"Y/N, I'm good. I'll be back in Tokyo before your noon class ends. Unless..." His voice trails off and Y/N finishes his sentence.
"You're assigned another mission, I understand." Y/N sighed again as Ino watched her sink even further into the pink-colored stuffed animal he won her on their second date. "I just miss you so much." Her voice alludes to a cute whine that causes Ino to smile a little.
"I miss you so much too."
"How much? She questioned. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she waited for an answer to her question.
Ino found himself leaning over to turn on the lap that was on the nightstand so she could get a better look at him other than his ominous shadow in the darkness. He watched as her face lit up now being able to look at his face. From the way, his dark-colored hair fell to partially cover the scar that decorated his forehead to the way that you could clearly tell he was exhausted but was fighting his sleep just to see his pretty girl face.
"I don't want to keep you up. You look so tired," Y/N pointed out.
Once the word tired tumbled off her tongue with worry, Ino let out a yawn. His hands went up to rub at his eyes before speaking, "I'm good. I'm not hanging up until you tell me to."
"Good because I have been thinking about you a lot, if you get the drift," Y/N says.
Ino's eyebrows raised in curiosity. He let his tongue glide across his lips before his mind went to catch Y/N's drift. His cheeks instantly stained a crimson color as he gave his girlfriend a foolish grin. A grin she's seen one too many times. A grin that causes her to playfully push him away when his callous curse-fighting hands would grope at her ass when they're out in public. The same grin he gave her before waltzing his way into the mall dressing room with her.
"You have an early morning probably, I don't want to keep you up," Y/N huffed as Ino noticed that she was leaning against the headboard of her bed now.
"I told you, I'm good," Ino uttered as he looked at her. His eyes darted from her face to her hardened nipples that poked out of the thin white-colored tank top she wore back to her face. "What do you have in mind?" He questioned.
"You know what I have in mind Ino." She whines. She slides down her headboard in a dramatic manner before speaking once again, "I was going to send you some pictures, but I'm needy. I miss your touch and your dick."
Ino chuckled at her statement. His fingers comb through his dark-shaded locks before looking at the hotel nightstand clock. He was sure this would help him fall asleep faster, plus he did miss the sound of soft moans in his ear. "Fuck it." He uttered as he sat up in his bed.
He mimicked the way Y/N was, placing his back on the headboard. "Let's do it," He says gaining the cutest giggle from Y/N.
"Okay, but I went to a store with one of my friends and brought something."
Ino's eyebrows raised at her words. Although he knew what his girlfriend was alluding to—he still couldn't wait to see what she would bring to the steamy FaceTime call. During her absence, Ino's tugging down the pajama pants he wore. The alluring thought of having phone sex already caused his dick to twitch in anticipation. As he held his iPhone, his hand traced alongside his toned abs before palming himself through the fabric of his boxers.
"You're ready Ino?" Y/N questioned. "I'm going to call you off my MacBook, 'kay?"
"Yes," Ino could hear the phone hang up before he could see her calling back. He answered the call with quickness and his eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store when he saw the view.
The only view of his girlfriend's cute pink-colored panties that covered her pussy he's been balls deep in too many times. If Ino look closer, he could see the faint dampness in between her legs that imprinted her panties. He saw the vibrating wand that was a similar color to her panties and chuckled. "Could you hear me okay?" He asked.
"Mhmm," Y/N answered before she tugged off the tank top she was wearing revealing her bare chest.
At that moment, Ino was kicking the thin sheets that covered his lower half. His body instantly grew hot at the sight of his girlfriend. His cock aching to be touched and he wished it was her touching him. His teeth grazed at his lower lip before he spoke once again, "Go ahead and give me a show pretty girl."
He heard her chuckle. "And how do you want me to give you a show, Ino?" She asked.
His eyes looked at the pastel pink wand in her hand on the phone and she could only playfully roll her eyes. However, the curious glint in Ino's eyes caused her panties to be soaked.
The next minutes consisted of Y/N's placing the wand against her bare folds. Her legs quivered feeling the vibration in between her thighs and Ino felt like he was on a cloud despite being miles away from her. He was so enthusiastic to please himself, but first, he had to make sure Y/N felt the same way. He needed her to feel as hot as he was in the hotel room.
"How you're feeling baby?" He asked as he watched her move the wand in a circular motion.
"Much better if you were here," Y/N says through subtle moans.
Ino could see her hands shaking just a bit due to the intoxicating feeling that was placed on her clit. "Just imagine, I am there." He says.
Y/N has never heard Ino's voice leak with so much sex appeal. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment. She let her body relax in her queen-sized bed and her eyes shifted closer. Her grasp on the wand seem to grow tighter as Ino's voice echoed out of her laptop speakers. If she thought hard enough, she could imagine that it was Ino holding the vibrating toy against her clit.
"Just me in between your thighs eating you out just the way you like it," Ino said. "You always tend to run away from me when I'm down there, but I always pull you right back to my face. Or the fact that you always tug at my hair when you're about to cum, thinkin' I don't want you to cum all over fuckin' face."
"Fuck." Y/N breathed out while she could feel her orgasm coming bit by bit.
Ino would sneer at the sight he was seeing and instantly flipped his camera so that Y/N could see the lower half of his body. His hands now tugging down his boxers freeing himself from the growingly tight space. His cock slapped at his stomach and oozed with precum from the thought of his pretty girlfriend. He brought his hand that wasn't holding his phone up to his mouth. Pooling all the saliva he could and spitting it in his hand. His free hand palmed his cock starting from his pink mushroom-shaped tip to his girthy shaft.
Y/N's mind seemed to be doing mental backflips at the sight of Ino's cock. The woman has seen many men dicks in previous relationships, but nothing could beat Ino's. A very persistent grower when it was time to please her. He kept it trimmed and neat, but not exactly clean-shaven. Gosh, she couldn't forget it seemingly having a curve to the left.
"Fuck—Y/N. I missed you so much," Ino moaned out as he was letting his hand guide up and down his cock. He was trying so hard to attempt to mimic the exact type of grip Y/N would have if she was giving him a handjob.
Y/N gasped out Ino's name repeatedly as if it were a scripture. Her mind felt like a bottle of shaken-up soda. Her body was getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. The two of them have shared countless times like this before due to Ino's sorcerer's work, but tonight was a bit different. The pornographic sound of Ino beating his dick and the sound of Y/N's moans was enough for Ino to gain a noise complaint from whoever occupied the hotel room next to him, but he could care less. He needed to watch his girl cum.
"Fuck." Ino uttered as his hand guided up and down the shaft of his cock. "I'm going to cum, let's cum together baby girl."
Y/N couldn't even focus with the way her toes were curling in anticipation to cum another time. Her moans that called out Ino's name as the pastel pink wand was pressed against her clit, "Okay." She moaned out.
In a matter of seconds, Ino was a grunting mess as he could feel his body heat up. The sheer thought of imagining Y/N's hands around his cock caused the sorcerer to go feral. When he felt the thick ropes of cum splatter out, his head fell back in complete bliss. His breathy grunts bounced off the walls as he glanced down at the mess he made. His face drained of its color and the only noticeable color that stained his face was the shade of red from the desirable pleasure he formally was experiencing.
The couple came down from the small moment of being on cloud nine due to them cumming together and the only thing that was heard between the two were the breathless pants.
"When you come back, just come to my place." Y/N would say.
Ino would get out of bed, instantly going to the bathroom to shower (again). He could hear Y/N shuffling around her room, most likely doing the same thing he was about to do. "What about class?"
"I can always get a doctor's note and I would rather you be the one to make me cum and not a vibrator." these were the last words Ino heard from Y/N before he heard the sound indicating that the FaceTime call ended.
"Gosh, I fuckin' love her," Ino uttered to himself.
"TO SEE WHAT YOUR INSIDES LOOK LIKE." | GHOSTFACE!ARMIN ARLERT.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — word count. 4.6k
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — cw. fem!reader, smut, modern au, mentions of murder / death / blood, fingering, armin’s a creep, symbolism, noncon/dubcon, insanity, manipulation, monomania, creampie, knives, stalking. mdni <3.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — synopsis. armin’s worked hard to build up his perfect life, and he certainly wasn’t expecting for someone to rip that from under him. he’s obsessed — with a life that isn’t his.
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! we are sooo back n in full swing for kinktober this year !! i’ll drop my masterlist here for all the prettie dolls to check out … please show this some love by reblogging / sharing, it’ll mean the absolute world 2 me !! kk, luv ya, bye ♡
Armin Arlert. Age 23. Graduated from Shiganshina University.
Armin Arlert, starting his new life under a freshly installed roof that rivaled his dorm of the past four years and provided him with much needed privacy. Armin Arlert, with a degree in humanitarian affairs accompanied with a promising future ahead, it’s the life he deserved after the turbulent destruction that was his tragic past. He could start over now in high hopes of making a name for himself in this unfamiliar city. Nothing could stop him, or the unperturbed spout of elation percolating within.
Aside from optimism, though, he remained undoubtedly sure that the life he had curated for himself was one that no other could outclass. He was smart — spent his days in libraries, in his study room, reading about anything that satiated his appetite for enlightenment, and be that as it may, he wasn’t looking for a lover. His solace brought him far better pleasure than any person could possibly imagine.
He’d work, research, and then work some more, day in and day out. And the day of your meeting was no different.
He had decided to utilize the time he carved out of his restless schedule for a much needed re-read of his favorite book. Moments like these were significant to Armin; the pungent aroma of freshly brewed tea in his mug, luminescence dim in the apartment, and a faint timbre of violins that spilled from his speaker.
Moments like these were when he couldn’t keep track of how many hours had passed him by as he flipped page by page into whatever universe his books had drawn him into.
Rested against the kitchen counter with his novel in one hand and retrieving a sip from his beverage in the other, his eyes scanned the piece of literature. Every once and awhile, he’d shift his weight from his left hip to the right, or opt to sit on the cozy loveseat in his study. All without withdrawing his attention from his book.
Glasses low on the bridge of his nose, he gently pushed them up — Then it came. The sonority of his doorbell, jostling him out of his serene thoughts and the inquisitiveness that flowed through his veins soon after, urged his body to tread to the front door in search of the cause.
As his footfall led him closer to the handle of the door, he could make out a silhouette, seemingly of a woman. All inquisitions of who could be at his doorstep were fulfilled once he opened it and you stood, with a bright smile on your face.
Armin’s angelic features hidden underneath a veil of golden blond tresses accentuated his soft, azure-hued eyes. His face was one of few that aided you in comfort just upon first glance, which chased away the unease of the possibility that he could’ve been ill-tempered.
“Hi, I’m Y/N! I moved in next door,” You pointed your thumb in the direction beside you as if to signal which side of the building you’d be occupying. “I just thought I'd introduce myself,”
He matched your syrupy sweet beam with one of his own, the corners of his eyes turning upward in tandem as if they were smiling too. He held the door open slightly wider to catch a better glimpse of you. From your attire, he could discern that you weren’t much of a modest girl, but it’d be wrong of him to idly make assumptions. Especially when his choice of dress during the lax hours of the day were a white button-up, cashmere cardigan thrown atop, with a pair of tan slacks.
“Y/N?” He repeated, in a manner to affirm that he had heard correctly. “I’m Armin. It’s nice to meet you,”
He would’ve held his hand out for yours had it not been engaged by his book. You weren’t trying to pry, yet the cover of the story was lucid in your mind once you took notice. “Berenice? The Edgar Allan Poe novel?”
His eyes trailed to where your manicured nail was pointed. The rosy flush of his cheeks deepened while he rubbed away the discomfiture stirring at the back of his neck. Once again, he had mindlessly brought his book with him wherever he strode.
“Y-Yeah, It’s my favorite. Have you read it?”
“A few times,” You hummed, meeting his sheepish gaze. “It’s so jarring, right?”
Armin skimmed over your face before allowing himself to speak. “But there’s beauty in the madness,” His words trolled over in a more weighty tone than he had intended, an apologetic smile on his face once he caught wind.
“Or at least that’s how i interpret it,”
His outward timidity roused an endearing chuckle from you. “I truly don’t mean to bother you, though. If you need anything I'm on your right!” You retort with a vague inclination of haste.
Truth be told, Armin’s interest in you piqued with the mention of the Poe story. “Oh, you’re not a bother-”
His vocables fell short against your own when you waved him goodbye, and he mirrored your actions with cordiality in his eyes.
Maybe she’s just busy.
—
Ever since Armin’s first encounter with you, he had found himself taking a rather atypical interest in the relations of you. The first bout of instances being regular events of curiosity where he’d watch as the moving company aided you in getting your belongings settled; hauling in furniture and appliances, all while Armin remained under the guise of checking his mailbox. Over a short span of time, though, he found himself increasingly knowledgeable in the subject that was you.
You showered at 8:00pm. You ate dinner at 7:00pm. The alarm settled on your desk, a few feet beyond your bed would go off at 6:00am sharp, and he’d be up at that same dawning hour to anticipate your departure to work.
He knew these things. Of course, he did.
He memorized all of your schedules to calculate what you’d be doing throughout the day, and where.
His own work was slow for him during those days, and books didn’t seem to capture that spark of exhilaration like you did. For once, he felt enthralled by each day granting him an opportunity to analyze you further.
On another day, he’d built up enough confidence to observe you as you came home from work, once more, under the false assumption that he’d been checking his mail.
“Good afternoon.”
Armin’s voice registered within your being quickly, startling you out of your fast-paced strut to your door. “Oh, good afternoon!” Your footfall faltered until you reached a close. “Armin, was it?”
Over Armin’s time of stalking- no, studying you, he’d come to realize just how ethereal you were. It was as if the deities above handmade every feature on your face, curve of your body, lilt in your voice with the intention of making you one of their own — an angel.
He found you charming.
With a nod of his head, he braced himself to inch toward you. Not proximal enough to cause you discomfort, he wouldn’t want that, yet enough to signal his unwavering immersion. “Did you just come from work?”
It was otiose of him to ask the question seeing as he undeniably knew the answer. Judging from your business attire and pencil skirt just a little too short for any other establishment’s dress standards, he had assumed you worked a kushy job at an office firm. You evidently earned a heap of money, with him recalling the numerous occasions you’d come home with luxury shopping bags hanging off your arms, tied in with the fact that the suites he inhabited weren't exactly affordable for the average person.
You responded hospitably to his question, that same lovely smile poured over your features and seeping into his personage. “Mhm, and what about you? Your work?”
He was surprised at your need to pull the conversation along further, it was as if you were succoring to curate his plans, as if you could read his mind and pick out from a haystack that you were his only interest, you were his source of bliss. A serendipitous moment, indeed. He straightened himself up, clearing his throat. “Me? Oh, well I just help out at charities and organizations from time to time,”
He’d be a fool to deny the set of wide eyes that were fixated upon his figure.
“For real? You must be a really good person then.” You responded with your hands clasped together and held against your chest, pupils of your eyes glittered in a sense of unshakable admiration.
As the conversation went on, you had begun to synonimize your neighbor with the fresh, and comforting feeling of congeniality. It helped that he was easy to converse with, seeming as he’d always been listening while keeping eye contact and rewiring his queries in a way that deemed you the main focus, and he, a vessel for your words to absorb within.
For Armin, he enjoyed getting to know you. You were perfect, in all the best ways.
And soon enough, through an exhausting series of prying inquiries, he’d piece together that your perfection wasn’t hulled along by determination or strong will, but by God’s good grace. He’d come to register that you didn’t have to struggle like he did to reach the triumphant point in life for which he stood. You were born that way, born with a silver spoon in your mouth and just the right kiss-ass people in your life to keep you that way. A spoiled fucking brat.
What had been the rationale behind his suffering? The years in which he’d been bullied repeatedly in public schools, had acquaintances that had only cared about him for their personal gain, and parents so utterly vapid that they’d give up their only child if it meant they could continue working towards an unattainable goal?
Fueled by a sense of jealousy, he waned your nepotism a hindrance. You were merely a telescope that he wanted so badly to see into.
For Armin was obsessed with a life that wasn’t his.
Meticulously, he had spent his time after that hidden away within his flat. Armin didn’t care to know anything more about you, he didn’t care to see your face, and he surely didn’t care for you.
When he stumbled across an unkempt, unpacked box in his room with the label of “Uni 2019,” written on the side in thick, inky letters, his concern led him to relive those memories upon removing the cardboard lid.
In it, there were polaroid photos, compact trophies he’d won from participating in school events, courtesy of his STEM minor, and a dark piece of fabric that caught his eye more than anything.
He recalled his first year of college where his two closest friends, Eren and Mikasa, dragged him out of their stuffy shared dorm and onto one of the first parties held by the school’s fraternity house during the fall semester.
“Armin, you look ridiculous,”
Mikasa said as she stomped away in her leather boots, leading the way for the two men accompanying her to follow her off-campus.
She was dressed in homage to Misa Amane from her favorite anime, although the style of dress aided no significance since it was hauntingly similar to her everyday wardrobe.
Eren was intended to show up as “Light” but he insisted on wearing something he deemed appealing, his plan was to get initiated by the end of the night, anyhow. He wore a deep black cloak, dark ripped jeans and had his hair tied aimlessly into his warped perception of a bun, with the mask of a ghost facing sideways on his head to allow for him to see.
Ghostface. Scream (1996).
Armin allowed himself to be pulled away by the Ackerman, his rebuttal falling on deaf ears. “You didn’t give me enough time, Mika. This is all I could come up with.” Armin’s poor excuse for a costume was tissue paper wrapped around his frame in stereotypical mummy fashion, a classic of all classics.
Though, that night had concluded like any other gathering involving college-aged students, the trio having woken up to hangovers and bad decisions.
Armin stared at the contents of the box a while longer before taking the cloak out and trying it on for size. Obviously, it was meant for a taller person, but regardless, the wheels in his head gradually spun.
He took it off after careful observation when the sensation of juvenility filled his veins. He wasn’t fond of the costume rousing the impression that he was an illegitimate killer — He knew more than he let on, and his passion for the grotesqueries scribed in his books further proved that.
Concurrently, you had been pondering the reason for Armin’s disappearance. After your last conversation with him, he’d stopped formulating ways to talk to you and seemed to never leave his suite, and your heart yearned for his presence once the feeling truly settled in.
You had been swayed by his charm.
His dulcet tone of voice, the intriguing quirks that seemed to hang off of him like leaves to a tree; You missed the way he cared for you, through mundane matters and the like.
Night had fallen, the warm, ochre hues of the day meshing in perfect balance with deep purple tones that signified time’s passing. You were settling into bed, just about ready to fall into slumber when you heard light tapping at your door.
Only for a second did the thought of who could possibly be up this late float through your mind.
Your soles kissed the floor when you made your way to the front door. And once you finally opened it, the sight of your worst fear was drawn to life — The deviant sight of the unknown, with what seemed to look like a kitchen knife in its right hand.
Quickly, without time to react, you attempted to slam the door shut with the force of your shoulder but the action proved futile when the aggressor’s strength pushed back against the wood, sending you stumbling backwards and vulnerable to any attack.
Heavy footsteps creeped eerily towards you out of something from a horror film. Your worst mistake was turning your back, scrambling for a way to retrieve your phone, or even a weapon.
“Help! He-”
The stranger was more agile than you had assumed, easily capturing you with one arm around your waist and its hand cupped against your mouth. You couldn’t shake the terror growing within you as hot tears seemed to spill down your cheeks and your heartbeat so intense, you were sure that it’d had been noticeable.
Your body soft in the assaulter’s touch, they embraced your body taut. The sensation was suffocating, your eyes squeezed shut to further distance yourself from the situation at hand, even if it was only a mental trick.
You resided in a relatively safe area, so why were you in this situation? What cruel joke were you the target of?
The grip on your body loosened ever so slightly, yet you were still fixed in place by the attacker’s opposite hand. While your body was immobilized, you felt the lingering of metal lightly drag against your abdomen to find itself settled just underneath the band of your lace pajamas.
Just moments prior, you had completed your elaborate nightly routine consisting of a glass of wine, face mask, and a warm bath. You also found it fitting to change into one of your newer pajama sets — Thin, baby pink, lace bralette with matching shorts that called for forgoing the need for panties.
All you wanted was to wake up from this nightmare.
“It’d be so beautiful if you died right here in my arms,” Your assailant spoke.
Through your ears, his voice was familiar. A tone so soft, you refused to believe the possibility of who it’s owner could be.
His hand over your mouth was hesitant to situate itself elsewhere in wariness of how you’d react. He was aware of the power behind a blood-curdling scream. The neighbors in this area were nosy. He would know.
He let out a sigh. “But you look really pretty tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blood on you,” His knife trailed further into your shorts, the edge cutting out a hole in the fabric at the seat of the garment.
“Did you do all this for me?”
You winced when the sonority of cloth ripping resonated through your ears. The blade felt dangerously close, running along your body as if to taunt you. That had to be the case; You were in the perfect position to be harmed, so why hadn’t your attacker done so? With your body stricken from fear, his job was easy. Was it not?
The hand over your mouth moved to caress your face and you gasped heavily for the air you were denied.
“W-What do you want?” Your voice echoed shakily throughout the room, barely audible enough for the two of you to hear. His knife inched upward to your sternum, and slowly dragged itself back down to your abdomen as he spoke.
“To see what your insides look like.”
For a split second, his hold on you seemed to diminish, granting you the perfect opportunity to run. Yet, your legs felt frail as if there were weights tied to your ankles. The assailant quickly repositioned himself in front of you, his head tilting slightly while he continued his up and down ministrations with the edge of the blade gingerly pressed against your flesh. Not forceful enough to draw blood.
“But maybe now, I want to feel your insides,” His steps crept closer, and instinctively you tried to create as much distance as possible by stepping back. It proved useless when your back hit the cold surface of the door, his face mere centimeters from yours.
Your breath hitched as you found comfort in the presence of the door, leaning against it as if it’d keep you from harm’s reach. You fidgeted, fumbling to grasp at the handle that’d grant you escape. The masked man took notice, hovering over your frame to keep you from trying anything.
“Please- -” Your plea fell in the form of a choked up whimper, just the sound he wanted to hear.
More uncomfortable ripping was sounded when his blade etched a perfect cut in your shorts, leaving your bare cunt out on display for his eyes to see. “Don’t be shy, pretty. I’m sure lots of guys have seen you like this. Am I right?”
Crudeness started to sink in as your face morphed into a contradictory pout. He took your expression for a no and chuckled genuinely, albeit louder than his previous tone. “No? Does this make me the first?” His eyes scanned your lower half once more, then flit back to meet your fear-blown orbs.
“I’d really love to be your first,”
Having grown confident enough to be sure that you wouldn’t try to break free, he dropped the knife to the side, metal clamorously clinking against hardwood flooring while he used his free hand to lift your right leg over the juncture of his elbow. He carefully slotted his middle and ring fingers into your hole, shallowly pumping. Your legs threatened to close with what you couldn’t make of embarrassment or denial.
Your mind felt cloudy once your body gave up its immobility and allowed pleasure to course through your veins, heat rushing to your core with every pump of his fingers. He took notice of the way your expression hastily contorted into one of pure pleasure, eyebrows knit together and your mouth slightly agape, eliciting quiet moans to tumble past.
It was a whorish sight, indeed. A circumstance you couldn’t control with your death at the forefront, yet it was terrifyingly easy to succumb to the euphoric sensation building up within you. The pad of his thumb found its way to your aching clit, and from just the light circling motions in tandem with his fingers, you felt yourself floating to the cusp of release.
“F-Fuck- -“ you rasped. Your hand reached out for his wrist to push him away but the attempt was futile and in turn, he sped up his ministrations.
“Didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth. You’re making me lose interest.” He coyly teased.
He was thankful you couldn’t see how flushed his face appeared under the mask. The sight of you spread open for him was too much to bear, he could cum in that moment without ever feeling your gummy walls wrapped around his painstakingly hard cock.
Just before you were about to hit your orgasm, he pulled his fingers away. An agitated groan rumbled from your throat, eyes finally opening to the sight of the man before you, removing his mask and unveiling his true identity.
Something within you didn’t want to admit what you had seen.
From the golden strands of hair that shimmered against the moonlight to his cyan-hued orbs tinted dark with madness. It was Armin, but it wasn’t Armin.
“M-Min.. You —“ The words failed to leave your mouth in a coherent string of sentences. It couldn’t have been your neighbor, not Armin. He was far too delicate, too feeble to carry out a task like this.
He kept unwavering eye contact with you, your pupils shaking from shock. “Hm? Couldn’t see a thing with this mask on,” His response was that of nonchalance, his hand coming to caress your tear-stained cheeks.
“You’re much prettier behind the mesh.”
He pulled down the zipper of his slacks along with the garment itself and his briefs, just enough so that his cock was freed. You didn’t want to look, but you did. You notice how bulbous the head was, glowing a bright pink while the rest of it was pretty girthy as well. It bobbed under its weight, the strings of precum leaking onto your inner thighs as he lined it up with your entrance.
“Why would y—“
Just before you could get the vocables out, he pushed his entire length inside of you, head tilted back and adam’s apple bouncing with each groan he let out. You felt as though you were being split open by how fat his cock was, how it glided effortlessly in and out of your heat.
His pace was tauntingly slow as if he’d shoot his load prematurely. Once he gradually thrusted more vigorously though, you found it hard to keep whimpers at bay. Each push in felt deeper than the last, the wind within your system struggling to keep you afloat. You reached for something to hold onto, scrambling for Armin’s shoulders in the end. Your nails dug deep at the lean muscles of his back, creating raw, catlike scratches on the flesh.
The pain was enough to make him smile. Or maybe it wasn’t the pain, but the sight of you so desperate for him — So desperate for your killer.
How pathetic.
He leaned himself upward to meet your gaze again, that of something from a horror movie, his gaze was darker than before, strung together by a serious expression. “Kiss me.”
You almost didn’t hear him as your impending orgasm was your only focus. When you took too long to respond, he glanced back at the knife settled just underneath his foot, in a manner to remind you of the real dangers he was capable of.
With the slightest inclination of hesitancy, your lips met his. Contrary to his actions, his kisses were soft, sloppy, and hungry, as if he were craving you. He hooked his arms beneath your knees to hoist you up and against him.
Deeper. You whimpered into his kisses wondering how his cock fucked into you deeper. He slammed your body down onto his length, using your body like it was a toy. You pulled away from the kiss, heaving for air as your head fell upon his shoulder. “Gonna cum, ‘m so close!” Your words slurred, and before you knew it, your essence came in waves, each aftershock more jolting than the last.
He continued pounding into you, shifting his position to hold you up against the wall. Your pleasure reverberated in the form of an inaudible cry while you allowed for the bullying of his cock in your cunt. It was evident to you that he was close from the way his features were etched in pure ecstasy.
Armin looked pretty like that — Wisps of tawny bangs messily splayed across his forehead from perspiration and a light tinge of scarlet dusted across his nose and cheeks, up to the tips of his ears. His soft, rosy lips were slickened with the mixture of your wet kiss and his.
“Oh, God-”
The guttural groan he let out had your walls clamping down taut around him. “Cum for me again—Shit! Say my name,”
The stamina he retained came as unexpected to you, your overstimulated heat trying to find pleasure in the way it’s being battered up. He spoke again, this time with a docile lilt in his tone.
“Tell me you’re mine, Y/N. I wanna be yours.”
You didn’t want to. You were beyond opposed to feeding into his hedonistic delusions, especially in the impuissant state that you were in. Yet, you couldn’t stop the affirmations from flowing once another orgasmic high coiled up in your core.
“Armin! ‘M yours! All yours,”
Just as soon as your words circulated through his mind, he felt his balls tighten, his thrusts faltering in potency as he reached closer to his high.
In his mind, it was profoundly amorous that you both had hit euphoria simultaneously, warm ropes of his sticky seed painting your walls while he shallowly jettisoned every last drop. Your womb was the goal, and he had scored.
He was tentative to pull out, wanting to relish in the warmth of your core for as long as he possibly could but he knew the idea wouldn’t be feasible. “You’re so good. I mean, you listen so well,”
He delicately placed you back on your feet, your body lax in his hold. “Thank you!” He beamed, tilting your head upwards to meet his gaze.
“Thank you for what?” You responded, your eyes searching for anything else to focus on as you gained enough strength to separate yourself from him, even if it was just a few inches.
“You helped me,”
You couldn’t make sense of the nonsense coming out of his mouth nor his need to be a hair's breadth away from you at all times.
“You helped me realize I never wanted to hurt you,” His hands found their place at your waist, softly running along the curve. “I just wanted to be inside you.”
“No, you wanted to kill me.” You spoke in a more conflicted tone, wondering if the gears in his head were turning at all. He chuckled, creating a few inches of distance between the two of you.
“I mean, I did at first. I was jealous, Y/N,” His voice sounded like that of a beg. “You have such a perfect life and I want it — I want to be in it.”
You couldn’t bear to listen to anymore of his twisted thoughts, feeling the heavy coat of uncomfortability weighing your shoulders down. “Armin, you’re crazy.”
“I love you, Y/N. Let me into your life, please?”
He pulled you into a tight embrace, his hands furthering south until they halted at the small of your back.
fine, for a request, give me car sex with ran haitani 🥴🙏🏻
MUSiCS iN THE BACKGROUND!
★ tw nsfw! ── mdni, car sex obv, whiney & needy reader, ran is um,, a lil bit mean bit its ok bcos its him :3 degradation + praise kink, ran has a BIGGGG COCK ARGHHSHBXJ, creampie, unprotected sex, ran is so nasty omf,,, dirty talk ?? doggy style, ran loves watching your ass from the back, 1 spank, reader is described w big thighs, idk wht to add HELPPP, i wrote this in my laggy ahhhhh laptop so bear w me pls 💔💔 (this was soo rushed omll 😞😞)
★ ashvie‘s text hi bea srry for late respond, was bz sucking takeomi's cock <3<3
it all started when you and your boyfriend went to the mall, for a skirt. you were oblivious to notice how turned on he was when you wore nothing a black skirt with a lacy panty under it, do you have no shame?
do you not realized how his pants tightened around his cock, begging for you to free it?
gosh, the way your thigh high were so nicely wrapped around the meaty flesh of fats of your thighs. now he is definitely gonna ruin you.
he wasted no time but pulled you into his car and shoved his huge cock into your cunt, hips slamming against your ass, the black lacy panty were stuffed in your mouth, muffling the loud whines and moans that tried to escape from you. “oh baby, don‘t you think you look good with my cock inside of you?”
his deep raspy voice rings in your ear, earning a whine from you. “what‘s that baby? can‘t hear you over this cunt sucking me in,” he swat his hand on your ass. he watched the fat of your ass jiggles as he buckles his hips more.
“hmm.. hmmf!──” he grabbed the fat of your ass, gripping it as he laughed.
"pretty slut, can't even say a word properly." he wiped off the saliva that has been leaking, in fact it was dripping to your chin.
he took out the fabric, grabbing your chin to face him, slowing down his pace. “‘want your cum, please ── cum in me!”
raising his eyebrows at your word, he chuckled and pushes your head to the black tinted window, seeing people walking to their destination, different cars passing by. you watched as the glass fogged.
ran picked up his pace, keeping the skirt up to your waist, “rannn! i‘m gonna ── cum!!” you gripped the handle of the door tightly, feeling the orgasm were approaching, eager to cream his cock dry.
his breath hitched, reaching for his orgasm. “baby ── let's cum together, yeah? pretty faced-whore.” after a few thrust, he came inside, hardly enough his hips twitched. he let out his cock, seeing a string of white liquids between the slit of his cock and your hole. it was too overfilled ── even some semens leaked out from your hole.
“keep it in, pretty girl,” ran pulled your skirt back, before patting the your ass gently.
you know, i feel like choso is the friendly jock who’s really nice to the weird kids and v sweet to you, the shy girl. he eventually makes you his girlfriend officially after some time. but there was definitely a casual hook up phase that lasted for about a month between you two— a little over a month maybe.
you were a virgin when you met him but obviously that changed over time. it’s a little funny because you actually made the first move oddly enough. he held your cheek one night and— you snuggled your face into his palm, enjoying how warm he felt. every time he touched you it felt like a hug, you relished in it a bit with his eyes on you and a small smile on his face. but you completely took him by surprise when you took his hand and sucked on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes.
you were shy but the kind of cock he gave you turned you into a lovesick, little fucking yandere lite. how could it not? he fucked you like he hated you and that was something you’ve never experienced before. you became somewhat of a fiend, really.
you were shy but you had zero qualms letting him split you open right on his thick, heavy cock— whether it be him folding you into a mating press or riding him until you were cross eyed and drooling.
you were shy but you never hesitated to offer your throat to him as if it were some sort of consolation prize when he had a bad day or a particularly rough day at practice— or maybe the team lost the game. just all “oh no! 🥺 would a blow job help you feel better? ♡” you’re so genuine about it too, he thinks it’s sweet. but he feels bad for taking you up on the offer because he feels like he’s taking advantage of you. he’s all you know, your very first boyfriend. often thinking sex = bandaid.
you were shy but the sweet venom that poured from your lips while he pounded into you was anything but coy. “don’t talk to other girls.. i’ll kill them.” it’s a breathy little remark and you say it as you’re about to cum. if anything, it gets him off— turns him on even more.
you were shy but who would have thought you’d turn into such a little cock drunken minx for him. you’re his own personal cheerleader, so willing to please him.
contents: mild dubcon, manipulation, past csa, trauma dumping, age gap (20+ years), vaginal sex, hurt/comfort vibe, probably ooc hanma but i do not care. not proof read lol
wc: 7.2k
"will you be fine on your own tonight?"
you shouldn't have said yes.
but, no—you wanted to be all mature and collected like, "dad, i'm nineteen now; i'll be fine by myself," when you're already sobbing into a pillow not even an hour after he left. your nails tear at the skin of your breasts so hard blood is drawn, screaming as if anyone could hear you from the top floor penthouse. fuck, if it wasn't for your empty stomach, you're sure you would have thrown up twice by now, instead of dry heaving so hard that you choke on air.
it's dramatic, it's grotesque; this is the worst it's been, but even then, it's just milder on other nights.
will this ever change?
i mean, it's been years and you don't even remember what exactly happened that night, but for some god forsaken reason, it still lingers. it's in the scent of your room, in the phantom hands groping your body, in the position you lay in, in the thoughts of intimacy you fear, in the arms of your loved ones—it's everywhere, and you can't escape, no matter what you do.
what can you even do?
with your dad's line of work, therapy isn't exactly an option, but even then, how are you supposed to talk to someone about how disgusting you feel when you don't know exactly what happened? you've tried it already and it doesn't seem to work, albeit kisaki tetta isn't exactly the best person to go to for anything emotional, but if not with your dad, what friends do you even have to go to? you haven't been able to let people into your life after what happened.
that fact makes tonight so much harder.
even if your father is emotionally unavailable, him simply being in the house with you is enough to keep your worst thoughts at bay. he sleeps with a loaded gun by his bed, so the possibility of someone breaking in and doing those things to you again is gone. he can't fix what happened, but your dad still makes you feel safe; that's been enough for you in these past few years.
but tonight is the first night he isn't here with you—well, when he had business to attend to during the night, he would at least wait around for you to fall asleep first, but this is the first time he's abandoned you so early; it's scary. the thoughts you've been able to ignore with him around now rear their ugly heads, and it's so scary. thoughts telling you to tear all your skin off so you don't have to feel the hands touching you, thoughts telling you to mutilate your vagina so you don't have to worry about someone forcing themself inside you ever again, thoughts telling you to nose dive off the balcony so you don't have to think about any of this anymore; god, they're terrifying.
you need an escape from them—no, you just want an escape; what you actually need is someone, anyone to be here with you to make you feel safe for tonight because you know there is no escape. because, at the end of the day, the only thing even close to an escape you have is what little bit of security someone can provide you. at the end of the day, there's nothing you can do to prevent you from losing it all.
at the end of the day, things never change.
so, you call up the only other contact on your phone other than your dad's, and pray he isn't working tonight
—
the buzz of the intercom scares you, even though you've been sitting in wait for the past hour for it to ring; you press on the button and tell the man on the ground floor to come on up, voice shaky. i mean, you can't be blamed for being nervous, right? sure, you know him, but you've never actually spent time with him alone—besides the fact that he's way older than you and hanging out with him by yourself would be weird, he just doesn't seem to care all that much about you.
but, if that was the case, then why would he show up tonight? is it because your dad isn't here this time?
oh god. was he waiting to get you alone so he could rape you and not get in trouble with his boss? waiting for the perfect opportunity to threaten you into not saying a word about the way he's going to toy with your body? your bedrooms don't have security cameras, so he wouldn't get caught that way either.
oh no.
no. no. no. no. not again.
even if he got caught, he's been friends with your dad for so long; it would be so easy for him to find a way to convince him that having sex was your idea. i mean, you're the one who called him over in the first place.
this was a bad idea. this was a horrible idea.
should you grab a knife from the kitchen? no, that wouldn't work; he has so many years of experience on you, especially in fights. he'd just rip the knife out of your hands, and then bend you over the nearest surface, ignoring as you scream for him to stop. or he might just pull out a gun on you, if you try to attack him. he'll push the nozzle against your cranium and tell you to get on your knees, and then, while you're sobbing, you'll have to—
"hey, sorry i took so long," hanma yawns, as he walks through the doors of the elevator. his presence snaps you out of your paranoia immediately.
what were you even thinking? hanma wouldn't do something like that; he's always been nice to you whenever you saw him. just because he's a gang member, that doesn't automatically mean he doesn't care about anyone or that he only wants to hurt you—you're just letting your nerves get the better of you. hell, that's the reason you called him over tonight.
you need to calm down, especially evident when hanma asks, "you okay? you're shaking a bit there, kid."
breathe in for four, hold for seven, breathe out for eight, and then repeat.
deep breaths go in and out of your lungs for about a minute before you finally turn to face hanma, who leans over you with his arms folded utop the backrest of the couch. you didn't take him as the patient type, but you're more than grateful that he isn't forcing you to rush a reaction. "i'm… hanging in there," you answer him, forcing a smile. he rubs your shoulder in what seems like a poor attempt to comfort, before he hops over the couch to sit down next to you; his touch and closeness make you tense up, but you try to ignore it by talking to him. "u-um, thank you for coming over… you, uh, really didn't have to, b-but i appreciate it—like a lot."
he lets out a small laugh before rubbing your shoulder again—you really don't like it. "no problem, girlie; i mean, kisaki would probably off me if i didn't tend to his baby when she needed it," he comments, lifting his hand off you to grab the remote. another deep breath escapes your lungs the second his hand is off you, which grabs hanma's attention. you mumble an apology, but he only sets the remote back down and turns to face you. "but, y'know, i didn't just come over because of kisaki; you sounded pretty horrible over the phone—crying and stuff like that." hanma reaches for you again, but this time, he grabs your hand instead of your shoulder; it's better, but you still don't feel comfortable with him touching you exactly. "is there anything you want to talk about, sweetheart?" though, you're especially uncomfortable with the newfound nickname he has for you.
still though, you feel like you would have recognized any malicious intent he would have had by now, and you haven't; he genuinely just seems concerned for you. i mean, he didn't have to come over, nor did he have to ask about anything—you even told him on the phone that you didn't care if he just wanted to go to sleep the minute he got here, and that all you needed from him was to stay the night with you.
yet, here he is, offering you some place to vent. offering you something you haven't had a chance to really do.
offering something that you need.
maybe hanma is what you've wanted this whole time.
maybe he can make things change.
sure, it might be odd to pour out all your trauma onto your dad's friend of all people, but he's here. hanma is here and cares enough to listen, which is what you've needed. with no access to mental health care, no friends, and no way to explain this correctly to your dad, hanma is the first person you have the chance to talk to properly about this.
you may not be the closest with him, but you trust him enough. and above all else, you want something to finally change.
you need this.
"can… can i get personal with you, hanma? i-if you don't mind…" you mumble, heart beating out of your chest as you prepare yourself for this conversation.
his eyebrows raise in surprise, but then a lighthearted smirk follows it up soon after. "of course; whatever you need," he confirms, which relieves some of the weight on your chest. but, still, you're not comfortable enough to talk yet.
you swallow your breath before questioning, "would you mind if i lie down while i talk?" to which he laughs and tells you that you didn't need to ask, but you felt it appropriate, as you decided to rest your head on his lap. thankfully, he didn't seem to mind that, nor does he seem bothered by how you maneuver your hand around so that you're grabbing his hand back—it starts to become comforting when it's mutual, and even though this is all a bit intimate, laying on hanma's lap and holding his hand makes you feel like nothing bad is going to happen.
it feels safe; something that you didn't think you'd feel with another person ever again.
but as you try to find a place to start talking, fragmented memories push to the front of your mind, and they make you want to scream. they're all incomprehensible, blurry images, and yet you want to run away and hide. all you can make out of your memories are the pain you felt, the blurry image of someone on top of you, and how much you cried—god, you might actually vomit if you linger on this too long, but you need to push through it. you're the only one who can make this change.
but even if it's all up to you, you're not alone; you're reminded of this when hanma squeezes your hand to comfort you, your struggle with racking your memories together visible to him. you look up to him, where he gives you a smile, and it helps you calm back down. you squeeze his hand back, take in a deep breath, and then close your eyes.
he's not a therapist, he's not your dad; you don't need to give an accurate account of what happened for him to believe you. just say what you think happened as it comes to mind.
don't think about it too much.
the deep breath you had just taken escapes through your nose before you start with, "i-i… think it happened when i was twelve…" you could've been thirteen too, though. did your birthday pass yet? you're not sure; all you remember is that you were in your first year of middle school. "dad had… some sort of party that night, i-i'm pretty sure…" you continue, but you think you might be making that part up. you know for sure that it happened at your house, but no clue about what was going on that day; though, it just makes sense that there were other people over, so a party will have to be the scene. "and… u-um… i was… i was in my bed…" that you remember the clearest; it's why you sleep on the couch most nights.
though, to hanma, it was clear you remembered that in particular because of the tears you didn't know were threatening to stream down your face. his thumb smooths over your knuckles to calm you down, as he tells you, "hey, i get what you're talking about now; you don't have to continue."
but you don't process his words—you can't; hanma's reassurance won't cut through the incomplete memories filling up your mind, even though you wish it would. "i-i just… i don't… i-i don't know w-who… how do i-i not know who d-did it…" you pry your hand away from hanma's so you can wrap your arms around your knees, curling yourself up into a fetal position; it's not as comforting as you wish it was—there never is comfort. "it-it… was… it hurt, s-so much… a-and… th-there was so much b-blood on my sheets the next morning, a-and i don't think i could even s-stand up either… b-but i—"
as your sobs start to make your rambling even harder to listen to, hanma sits you up to pull you into a hug, and while you want to peel all of your skin off at the feeling of another person touching you intimately, you grip onto him like a vice. his body pressed up against yours, encasing you—it does honestly make you feel sick, but you're too scared to let go at this point because, "d-dad didn't believe me, s-so i… i haven't told anyone else… a-and i've been s-s-so scared and alone…"
hanma seems to freeze for a second before pulling back, seemingly to say something, but you don't even consider that; you pull him back towards you hastily, face buried in his abdomen. "please! p-please don't go… i-i don't want to b-be… alone…" your panic quickly starts delving into desperation with each sob, leaving hanma left to pet your head like an animal to comfort you. "i-i just… i want it to stop… i want things t-to change… i'm so… s-so sick and tired of being sc-scared and… and mi-miserable over something i-i don't remember… i want it to s-stop… p-please make it stop…" even though you know hanma can't do anything other than listen, you still beg with him incoherently until your tears start to dry up.
…which then leads to embarrassment once you come to your senses.
and god, now that you can think a bit clearly, what have you been doing? convincing yourself that hanma could help you, trauma dumping onto your dad's friend, forcing him to comfort you, pleading with him to do something—who does that? you know it was a spur of the moment thing, but seriously, it's ridiculous. you feel ridiculous. i mean, you're supposed to be an adult for fucks sake, yet here you are, trying to make someone to take responsibilty over your unresolved problems like a child.
you'd probably break down again at the realization that you've never been able to actually mature since that day, if not for hanma's patient reassurance keeping you grounded—"are you feeling a bit better now after letting it all out, sweetheart?"
you nod your head and pull back from him, a shiver running up your spine when you're no longer touching; it's relieving, but at the same time, it leaves you feeling worse than before. though, you ignore it because, above all else, you really need to apologize to hanma. your hands come up to rub your eyes and wipe away all the snot and tears, while you tell the man, "i-i'm so, so sorry that you had to deal with that… i know you can't do anything, a-and i shouldn't have made you comfort me…" however, he dismisses your apology, telling you that you have nothing to be sorry for and that he would've already abandoned you if it was too much for him to handle. which does admittedly make you feel a bit better, if not a little surprised by his bluntness, but you still can't shake the awkwardness of the situation.
so, you mutter, "...um, w-well, thank you f-for putting up with me anyways…" after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "y-you don't have to stay any longer, if you don't w-want to…" you offer him, even though you're really unsure if you can be left alone with your thoughts right now; though, you'd feel bad if you made him do anything else for you.
he's already done enough.
and yet—"well, i wouldn't feel too great leaving right after you had a breakdown"—he's still so generous to you.
but in all honesty, you feel… kind of weird, at this point.
i mean, of course you appreciate him being here, but you don't know what he's getting out of this; you're not sure why he would practically babysit his boss' daughter without some kind of incentive. sure, it could be out of the kindness of his heart, but things feel off, now that you're no longer blinded by your meltdown.
and as if to validate this weird feeling you have, hanma drops on you, "by the way, now that you've calmed down, i actually think i know how to help you move past this trauma of yours a bit."
this revelation of his makes you tense up. yeah, you've wanted help for so long, but there's something in the calmness of his voice and the smile on his face that makes you think it isn't the help you want. hell, you're already gotten what you wanted: someone to listen to you.
then, it finally dawns upon you that it isn't that hanma has done enough; it's that you don't want him to do anymore.
yet—"i think you would benefit from having sex; y'know, where you actually have control this time"—he's still trying to help.
and now the source of your unease is viscerally clear.
you know what you just heard him say; the idea itself makes you want to vomit, but knowing that he's suggesting you have sex with him, is something completely different.
something worse.
but you don't want to come off rude, after what he's done for you. "u-um… i-i-i don't know about t-that…" you mumble, scooching away from him ever so slightly, only for hanma to grab your hand. you jump at the contact and debate running upstairs into your dad's room to hide, but instead, you try to calm down, telling hanma, "i-i know you… you, uh… m-mean well… but i don't think i'm, um… ready for t-that yet. i-i mean, this is the first time i-i've even talked to someone ab-about this! it would be weird to—"
"haven't you been waiting years for things to get better?" hanma interrupts, his words cutting through you like a knife and stabbing you in the heart of the issue. i mean, of course you want to get better, but what he's getting at is that you don't know how to get better because of how long you suffered for—and he would be right.
in retrospect, you imagined your recovery to be something instantaneous; you get this dwelling pain off your chest to someone, and then you'll miracuously get better. but here you are after telling someone what happened, knowing that if he left right now that you'd be at your worst. you know opening up about this was just the first step, and you know you have to be willing to step out of your comfort zone of suffering to get better.
you know hanma's proposal is the only option on the table right now.
but you also know that you're not okay with this.
however, your hand still in his grasp, hanma stands and drags you up with him. "listen, i know this is all probably scary to you, but trust me, i only want to help," he starts, as he leads you to the stairs. your feet are moving on their own to follow him, but your heart is beating out of your chest; you were worried about him coming over just to violate you, and that's really about to happen isn't it?
but as if he could read your thoughts, hanma reassures you, "i mean, i don't exactly want to sleep with someone under half my age, let alone my boss' daughter, either, but like i said, you'd benefit from having consensual sex." and even though you're still uncomfortable, his comment does relieve your initial fear—that this is something he wanted to do to you. and to cement that relief, he confirms with you, "and i'd prefer you have sex with someone you know and trust. you do trust me, right?"
that's all there is to it.
you really need to stop thinking the worst of a situation
"yes, i do…" you mumble an answer, noticing he had stopped in his ascent up the stairs to hear from you. hanma gives you a smile in response, before pausing once again once he reaches the top of the steps; he asks you which room you want to use. instinctively, you were going to say your dad's room, but that's… weird. and besides that, you have to face this—all of it. "um… m-my room is the one at the end of the hall…" you say while pointing at the door, to which hanma responds accordingly.
this is okay.
you'll be okay.
when you walk into your room, you feel fine. i mean, you spend most of your time here—you just have trouble sleeping in your bed; that's all the issue is, so it's great that you're going to get past that too, after…
after you're all tired out from…
"go ahead and get comfy," hanma tells you, to which you oblige as if you were on autopilot. you hesitantly lie down face up, as you try to relax yourself.
you don't remember the last time you've laid in your bed; realistically, it couldn't have been that long, right? but then again, all you really do is sit at your desk all day, so maybe it has been a while. hell, you remember laying on your floor more than your bed; so, maybe that's why the feeling of your comforter engulfing you in warmth is so foreign. and, now that you think about it, the softness of your pillows feels like something you forgotten as well—
the shifting of weight on the bed snaps you out of your head.
now's not the time to get distracted.
even though your skin is crawling at the sight of hanma sitting at the foot of your bed, you can't retreat into your own head; it would probably be worse for you anyway.
i mean, it always starts with the little things—like your bed. but then, you start thinking about how you used to lay on your stomach when you were younger, and how you couldn't sleep without cuddling a pillow. then, there's a gap in your memories that always leads to you thinking about the pain you felt. the blood you bled. the tears you cried. the cum that was inside—
hanma's hands rest on top of your knees, and for the first time since you laid down, you're aware of your existence. you didn't even realize that you were sitting up, legs locked together, arms wrapped around yourself.
god, you need to stop thinking so much.
you need to focus.
but that's so hard of a task to do when—"do you want me to take off your clothes for you? it's up to you."—you don't want to be here right now.
you just need to remind yourself that this will help. this is for your betterment.
"i-i can do it myself, but um… do i have to t-take off all of it?" you ask confused, being that this is your first time doing this. much to your relief though, hanma assures you that you can do whatever you want; you call the shots tonight. which… does make you feel more confident in this, but—"well, y-you know, um… i don't really know what i'm doing, so-so, uh… maybe you… y-you should just…"
hanma lifts his hands off your knees and pushes you back down against the mattress as gently as possible, explaining to you, "just tell me to stop whenever you need." you're glad he understood what you were getting at, but the embarrassment of it all is the least of your concerns now that his hands are on your hips.
it takes all your willpower not to kick him as his thumbs finger the waistband of both your shorts and your underwear, but you still end up doing it; thankfully, it was more so just a shove than a full blown kick, and hanma seems fine with it, as he respectfully backs away in response. "l-like i said, i-i can do it… s-sorry, should have, um, been m-more clear…" you apologize, to which hanma only nods his head unfazed. thank god he's patient with you.
though, how much is his patience even helping? your hands tremble as they reach down to replace hanma's to nervously tug off your bottom wear, and it's still uncomfortable. the way hanma diligently watches you strip is uncomfortable. the cool air hitting your naked pussy is uncomfortable. telling hanma, "y-you can… uh… go ahead… i-i guess…" is uncomfortable.
no matter how good hanma is to you, you're still so uncomfortable.
and it doesn't help that he has to forcefully pry your legs apart to get access to your cunt, even though that's more so your fault. but once he does, you can only stare up at the ceiling and take deep, methodical breaths—don't freak out. if you can't get past the discomfort, then the least you can do right now is not panic, even though you already feel like screaming at just the touch of hanma fingers.
you cement your feet into your mattress and clench your jaw shut to the point it hurts, as he spreads your lips apart with his index and ring fingers. his middle runs up and down your folds, with you getting more nauseous every time he makes contact with your clit, but then he suddenly dips the whole finger inside of you without warning, causing you to let out an almost grotesque squeal; you immediately apologize, even though you didn't even do anything—even though you're actually kind of pissed that he did that.
it was his fault, and hanma knows that, especially telling by his laugh as he pulls his finger out of you. to your surprise, his finger is covered in slick; i guess being at war with your body for so many years has made you unaware of how it reacts because he didn't really do anything that turned you on. in fact, you are still pretty sick at just the idea of doing this, let alone actually going through with it.
or so you thought, until hanma's tongue lapped up all your juices left on his finger and what little that started sliding down his "sin" hand.
i mean, you always thought he was an attractive man, but him doing something so… erotic makes you feel so many emotions. another layer of nausea gets added on at the fact that he's so unfazed about tasting you, maybe even into it, but you're not any better—you can feel heat rising in your cheeks, and you can't even take your eyes off him, until he opens his mouth.
"sorry, sorry; i know i shouldn't be too playful with you," he apologizes, which makes you let out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding on. his apology relieves you of a bit of tension, and it results in a smile from hanma. "i just wanted to make sure you wouldn't freak out when i actually went down on you, and i mean—you didn't panic all that much when i shoved my fingers in you, so guess i'm in the clear," he explains, before he finds his place back in between your legs.
you don't understand his methods, nor do you really want to; he seems like he knows what he's doing, so you'll just go along with it. besides, you figured he has plenty of experience just by looking at him, so who are you to say anything to begin with? i mean, regardless of what his intentions were doing… all of that, hanma managed to pull your attention away from what's going on, and that helps you calm down for a bit. hell, you don't even react when his tongue glides up your slit
well, not immediately, at least.
your breath hitches when the tip of his tongue reaches your clit, and it all suddenly comes crashing back down. the vision of an attractive man between your legs was what was keeping your mind elsewhere, but an actual touch whiplashes you back into sobriety.
back into the reality of what's happening.
and the nausea settles back tenfold.
albeit, there's also a churning in your lower abdomen as he sucks on your clit which could very well be the brunt of how sick you suddenly feel, but regardless, you think you might actually vomit the more you stay in your head. just grappling with the fact that this is happening—that your dad's friend is going to fuck you—is hard enough, let alone actually being touched like this after so long of fearing it. it's just… too much to handle, especially when hanma's fingers find their way back inside of you.
you need to tell him to stop; he said he would if you did.
but when you open your mouth to say something, his long, slender fingers reach a sensitive spot inside you that you didn't even know existed, and all that comes out is a whiny moan.
it's supposed to feel good, but the closer he pushes you to finishing, your body starts remembering how it felt the first time you came.
when you were forced to.
when you were so young that it happened maybe weeks after you just started puberty.
when your body didn't know how to respond to what was happening.
your body still doesn't know how to responds
your legs are over hanma's shoulders, so you end up slamming your foot down onto his back to make him stop. you don't even realize you did that until he removes himself from you. he looks pissed with you, and you are too.
you're so pathetic.
but, as always, hanma reassures you, "alright, alright—i'm sorry. we can stop now, if that's what you want," even if his tone sounds a bit annoyed. he wipes his mouth and chin of your slick, before attempting to get up.
but you wrap your arms around him before he can get off the bed. "n-no…" you plead, and he looks back at you confused.
you're going to tough it out. you're going to change.
even if you're scared. even if your body won't like it. even if you think it's weird to do this with hanma.
even if you don't want to.
"no, i-i'm sorry, hanma… i should've just said something…" you apologize, your voice sounding choked up as you fight off the urge to cry. he turns around to you and reaches to give you a hug, but you grab his hands and look him in the eyes. "l-look, i just… i-i don't think i can handle, um… too much… so, c-can we just, like… uh…"
you're not really an adult; saying what you want outright embarrasses you, and you can't deal with anything sexual without feeling bashful. you're a nineteen year old child who needs an adult to walk you through this, and hanma knows that. "you wanna skip the foreplay, right?" he confirms with you, to which you shyly nod your head. he chuckles in response, "that's fine by me; i just wanted to make sure i didn't go in dry—it's your real first time, y'know?" before crawling over you to lay down on the bed.
you turn around to face him, confused as to why he's the one laying down, but he answers your question before you can even ask it. "listen, i know you said you wanted me to do all the work, but you don't tell me anything—and, to be honest, i don't wanna get kicked again," he explains with a bit of lingering annoyance in his tone, as he reaches for something in his pocket. you want to apologize for that again, but he interrupts you by tossing a condom onto your lap, then continuing, "so, instead, how about you be on top and go at your own pace, sweetheart?"
it's not a suggestion; he's already tugging his sweats down his thighs so he can pull out his dick, and you're suddenly way more nervous than you were before. i mean, you don't know what you were expecting, but he's big—way too big for you, at least.
you really didn't want this time to hurt too.
but before you have the chance to retreat back into your mind, hanma points at your hands, and you remember that you're holding a condom. "oh! u-um… uh…" why would he hand this to the inexperienced one here? "m-my hands… they're, uh, s-sweaty, so could you, like, d-do it?"
hanma rolls his eyes—you think it's in jest, or at least, you hope he isn't actually anymore annoyed—and snatches the condom out of your hands; he opens it and rolls it down onto his length faster than you can even prepare yourself for this. "it's your turn now, for real," he comments, carelessly tossing the opened wrapper somewhere into the darkness of your room.
despite what you had hoped, you can tell his patience is running thin—it's most noticeably in his deadpan expression. there's no sight of that reassuring smile he has been giving you all night when he orders you to do your part, and not to mention his mannerisms are slowly getting more aggressive. and as if to prove his growing impatience, he grabs your fidgeting hands and pulls you towards him, placing them flat onto his chest.
if you weren't reluctant before, then you sure as hell are now. maybe even scared a little.
but you said you were going to tough this out, didn't you?
so, you follow hanma's lead and toss one of your legs over him, balancing yourself on his chest; this results in a soft smile from him, and a weight feels like it's been lifted off your shoulders at the sight of it. your hesitation was annoying him, but he isn't actually mad, even adding a proud "attagirl" with his grin—guess that's one thing out of the way.
the real daunting issue at hand, however, presents itself as hanma helping position his tip at your entrance, where you're supposed to lower yourself down now. just the thought is making your heart race and a cold chill go up your spine, and it doesn't help that you can feel what you think is precum sticking onto your folds now mixed with the cool air; it all just feels… so uncomfortable. so wrong.
just a little more left, though. you're so close—you can't bail out now.
you take the deepest breath you can muster and screw your eyelids shut, before slowly lowering your hips, and for the first few centimeters, you had thought you were overthinking things—but then, just one centimeter deeper, you felt a certain sting you had forgotten.
and with it, you heard a little girl cry.
your heart stops for a moment, your eyes shoot open. you don't think you can breathe. the pain was only fleeting, the pain wasn't even an issue, but you feel like you're dying.
no.
that little girl is the one who feels like she's dying right now—not you. her pain is never ending, and she always drags you into her suffering; it's why you've been in this hell for years.
every night, you're forced to hear her cry, and it makes you sick. baring that little girl's agony with her tears you apart; it's been ruining you
and right now is no different, except for the fact that you're trying to ignore her.
you grit your teeth and squint your eyes tight to the point you think you're going to hurt yourself, while forcing your hips down until the full length is inside of you. however, your efforts of drowning out the little girl's sobs are in vain because she starts to scream at the feeling of you getting stretched out. you only thought it was a bit uncomfortable, but she's making you feel so much worse.
and, "you're doing great, sweetheart," hanma isn't making anything better either. honestly, you forgot he was even here; you only took notice of him talking because his hands have found a place on your hips, and it's making her scream more. you don't even take the time to move them off, though—you just want to get through this.
but when you finally start to move, she starts begging you to stop, and you can only respond by bouncing your hips faster than you can handle.
it's awful.
you hate everything about this.
the crying, the discomfort of something inside you, the screaming, the thumping against your cervix, the pleading, the tightness building in your lower abdomen.
why did you agree to this?
a hand comes up to your face to wipe the tears that you didn't even realize were coming from your eyes. "hey, i told you we can stop whenever; you don't need to force yourself."
everytime hanma tries to reassure you that you don't have to do this, the guilt you feel for disappointing yourself is unmatched. you keep telling yourself you're going to tough it out, but everytime, you start to crack when your mind wanders—and you hate it the most out of anything happening right now.
you agreed to this because you wanted something, anything to change, and change isn't supposed to be easy.
change is supposed to hurt.
you slap hanma's hand away from your face, letting your tears flow freely, and start to grind your hips against him again, while the little girl wails 'stop' or 'it hurts' in your head. you really just can't ignore her, no matter how much you want to.
no, instead, you have to hurt her more—put her through so much pain that she dies.
and so, you'll do just that; raising your hips, forcing them back down, while your face becomes disgusting with tears and snot. the gross sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room of your quiet penthouse, along with your moan-like sobs and the occasional grunt from under you, and an all too familiar pressure being pounded closer and closer until release.
it all makes her scream and beg louder, cry harder, with each passing second, until your body jolts—a shiver runs up your spine, your lips tremble. there's a white noise ringing in your ears, muting the little girl.
you feel like you've been engulfed in static. even though the hands that are on your hips continue to move you, riding out your orgasm, you don't feel much. you feel fuzzy, but you can't even tell if it feels good or not.
before you know it, you're laying back down on your bed. your pussy throbs, hole clenching around nothing, and your heart is beating so fast that it feels like it's going to stop any second. your sight is blurry with tears, but you don't know if you're still crying; though, your eyes still dart around aimlessly, catching a glimpse of a used condom being tied and then thrown somewhere.
there's weight shifting around your bed, you think someone's talking to you while it happens, but you can't hear them. a warm comforter is brought over you, and the weight now rests besides you.
your mind goes blank, the sight of the little girl completely lost.
—
you wake up more refreshed than usual, but there's an ache between your thighs and a pounding in your head, on top of feeling as gross as any other day. though, you're not plagued by discomfort while laying in your bed, so you shut your eyes again, ready to sleep away your headache; unfortunately, indistinguishable yelling from downstairs denies you of your rest.
guess you should go see what the commotion is.
though, the first step out of your bed and you almost collapse. i mean, you're well aware that you had sex, but you don't exactly remember the last bits too well; once your younger self left, you did too. maybe you pushed yourself a little too hard, but if that meant being able to lay in your bed without having nightmares for at least one night, you were fine with it.
but nevertheless, you have to face the day too, to see if things have actually changed.
you drag yourself over to your dresser to put on clean underwear, before pulling your comforter off the bed. you wrap the warmth around yourself, and head out of your room, trying not to trip over yourself.
"you slept with my daughter." looking over the railing to the floor below, you see your dad holding up hanma against the wall with a gun. right… he's probably enraged about that, for good reason. "give me one fucking reason i shouldn't lodge a bullet into your skull, hanma shūji."
though, hanma looks relaxed, delighted even about a gun being pointed at him, as if this isn't a big deal at all. "well, kisaki, i don't think you want your daughter to witness a murder, right?" he answers, gesturing over to you upstairs. your dad looks up at you in shock, before hanma adds on, "i especially don't think she'd like to see the last guy she fucked shot right in front of her, yeah?"
your dad snaps back to hanma, ready to shoot him point blank for that comment, but he resists the urge because of you. he socks the man in his gut, before turning back to you. "sweetheart, please go back to your room," he asks through gritted teeth, tucking the gun into the holster under his arm. he's trying not to scare you, but you're still concerned about hanma. "i said, go back to your—"
"please don't be mad at hanma!" you plead, resulting in a surprised look from your father.
"yeah… exactly…" hanma mutters, holding his stomach where he was punched. "like i said, i was trying to help her out… you know, help her recover from what you did."
what?
you stare at hanma with bewilderment, and your dad looks at him just as confused… you think, at least.
hanma gives you an all too knowing look, before turning back to the man in front of him. "seriously, why are you mad at me? i mean, you're the one who raped your daughter in the first place."
you heart drops.
and when you hear the little girl, back from nowhere, cry 'dad, you're hurting me,' your body drops to the floor too.
not me arguing with a girl on tik tok about colorism. like why do some light skinned women think that colorism only revolves around whose pretty and who the men date more. it is deeper than that. darker skinned people (especially women) get harsher jail sentences, get paid less, and even they use skin tone in classrooms to predict who will be the the most disobedient within children…it’s fucking deeper than the dating pool and such! urgh!
it’s a chill day. soft rain pouring outside. wind blowing, but not enough to be noisy. no traffic around, just the sound of the rain hitting the roof window in your room.
you’re laying up against the headboard on your fluffy bed—soft hands absentmindedly playing with the pink hanging canopy bed drapes. the other scratching against connie’s overgrown buzz cut as his head lays against your bare thigh. this is nice.
connie looks up at you, watching another episode of hello kitty and friends on your macbook pro—giggling to yourself.
it’s around 3ish in the afternoon and you two have done nothing but lay around in your pjs all day. he came over the other day to your apartment and had yet to leave. he didn’t even bother packing anything—half his shit is scattered around your room anyway.
he’s thumbing over your panties—the cute white ones he loves with the little red ribbon right at the top—when he hears you sigh out his name.
“connie, are you looking?” you take your hand off your curtains and itch at your collarbone, bringing his attention to the bite marks on your neck.
“yeah baby,” here it comes. “you know how much i love watching weird talking animals do weird talking animal shit.” you grin to yourself. knew it.
he sits up, stretching his arms until his shirt rides up a little—exposing the happy trail fading towards his tummy.
sure does make you happy.
he’s standing now, looking down at you smile at him like a love-struck puppy—big eyes gleaming up at him.
“what’re you lookin at?” he fakes annoyance, leaning down to trap you on the bed—his hands caging you in.
you giggle dreamily, finger coming up to trace his sharp jawline. “you, you’re really cute.”
he puts on a disgusted face. clenching his fists and giving light one, two jabs to your jaw. listening to you giggle at him.
“hmm,” he glances to your pretty lips, “gimme a kiss then.” he does that weird thing where he puts his tongue over his top lip & pouts, leaning in to you.
“ew. connie quit it!” you laugh loud when you push at his chest. he backs you into the headboard—nowhere to go.
“thought you said i was cute?”
“nuh uh,” you feel him rub on your ass. big hands running up & down your back before pausing to squeeze and repeating. you peck his lips.
“what the fuck was that?” his brows furrow, “want a better kiss than that, princess.”
you lean in, slowly rubbing your lips across. pecking, pulling away, pecking, pulling away, before you feel his tongue slide into your mouth, tangling with yours. he’s softly biting your bottom lip when he’s pulling away, a trail of saliva following when he delivers a rough smack to your ass before pulling you back in.
you whine into his mouth, already getting drunk off of just his lips. connie’s always been a good kisser, even when he was just a beginner to everything. he always caught onto the concept fairly quick.
he’s pulling you by your thighs towards the edge of the bed so you can lay flat on the back before he’s getting on top of you and pulling away for air.
“you good?” you’re already huffing and connie finds it cute, though he tries to hide the amusement in his face with a furrow in his brows and a faux concerning tone.
“y-yes…m’good.”
he’s pushing your knees up to your ears before you can even respond fully. getting a fresh view of the little mess your pussy made in her panties. he coos and rubs a thumb over your clothed clit, humming when you shudder.
“ya wanna have fun or ya wanna watch hello kitty n friends all day?”
you sniffle, “wan’…wanna have fun.”
he grins at you, leaning down to place a single kiss on your nose before giving one harsh hump against your panty-clad cunt.
“fuckkk,” he moans loud before continuing. grinding himself on you hard and fast, handling your tits for leverage. “feel you soaking through my boxers princess, you want it?”
you rub your hands over his chest, eyes following the bulge that started swelling up through his boxers as he humps you, “wan’ it s’bad..wan’ it in me connie.” you whimper when you feel him grind against your clit.
“shit.” abruptly he pulls away his hips, “get it wet baby.”
you’re already taking him out his boxers, rubbing the slit a little before spitting in your hand to coat his cock, he moans and humps into it, trying to match the pace of your strokes.
you start to get a little impatient now. as much as you love watching connie’s pretty cock twitch in your hold while you make him feel good, you love the feeling of him inside you more. stopping your ministrations on his dick you look up at him with big teary eyes and a pretty pout on your lips. “connie…”
“aw, i’m sorry baby,” he gives a fat smooch to your cheek before shoving your panties to the side and spitting right on your cunt. “m’right here.”
you you yelp when he slides three fingers in your entrance without warning, little hands springing up to push him away. connie’s fingers were just so thick. everything about connie was thick. sometimes you find yourself struggling with just one of his fingers so for him to just shove three in there without any warning had tears streaming down your pretty face.
“shh. i know, i know. taking it so well baby, such a good girl.” he watches your expression go blank and a loud drawn out whine escape your lips when he curls his fingers against a specific part in your cunny. “right here huh?”
he abuses that spot until he can tell you’re used to his fingers and lines his cock up, ignoring the look on your face that almost says, ‘finally.’
he likes when you get in your cute little, ‘im a big girl, i can take it’ moods. like you don’t start screaming and crying as soon as his fat cock is in if your pussy doesn’t get princess treatment for at least 15-20 minutes. it’s ok though, he’ll give you what you want today.
he’s pushing his hands against your thighs to slowly slide into you, his thick cock stretching you out beyond comprehension.
he’s only about an inch or two in when you stop him, you tried your hardest to be a big girl but it’s just too fat, feels like he’s splitting you open.
“wait—ngh—wait…s’big.” connie rubs against your pudgy tummy before leaning down to kiss you once on your forehead, cooing down on you.
“m’almost in pretty baby” he wasn’t he still had about 6 more inches to go. ”just a little more ok? i know it hurts but you’re my big girl right?”
“uh huh..” he starts pushing back in slowly. “ ‘m your—ngh—a big girl..”
“yeah you are.” and in one harsh thrust he’s all the way in, splitting you open. you’re immediately pushing at his lower tummy trying to get him to let up some. you were barely even calmed with the one inch so for him to push all of it it. you felt like you were gonna die.
“omgomg. s’big, s’big—s’too much…!”
connie just shushes you and leans down, kissing at your nose. he knows it takes you a minute to adjust to his cock. you start crying and you throw a fit and then you’re cumming in a matter of seconds. he thinks it’s cute.
he brings his hand down to rub your clit, rolling his eyes when he hears you keep whining, ‘m’gonnadiem’gonnadie’ underneath him. his dramatic girl.
he can tell you’ve calm down when he started rubbing on your clit a little. pulling the hood up going roundnround till you start twitching and whining. you’re about ok now. he pushes hard on your thighs while he fucks you. his cock sliding out before he’s ramming it all back inside. continuing his ministrations on your clit.
it only takes a little bit of this before he feels your pussy giving him what he wants. a pretty shower.
“oh yeah,” he moans loudly in your ear. “good girl baby, this pussy is such a good girl.”
your mouth forms a small o when you feel connie’s dick rub repeatedly at that sensitive goo inside you. you can’t help but scratch at his back, doing all you can to fuck yourself back against him.
“right— right there, baby.” you feel your eyes and your pussy water at the same time. “m’cumming..!”
he feels it before you even say it. it takes two, three more fucks into your desperate cunt before she’s crying and giving him what he needs. he’s following quickly after that, hopelessly humping into your pretty pussy.
“ohhhh, shit.” he pulls out, moaning to himself, hand immediately flying to his cock to pump it. “lif—lift your s-shirt up.”
you watch as all your juices on his dick slide with every pump. making your pussy tighten. he’s fucking into his hand now, throwing his head back with his eyes sealed shut. it takes one look to your pretty pussy and then his eyes glance back to your face before he’s cumming. thick droops landing right on your tummy, trailing up to your tits.
you’re huffing when he’s done. trying to sit yourself up but you just plop right back down.
“why did you do thatttt. connie!”
“what?—”
“it almost hit my face. connie, y’know i hate it on my face—” he knows you do. that’s why he tried his best to avoid it so he didn’t have to hear you whine. he only likes the whines that comes out of your mouth when he’s fucking you. the ‘your cocks too big, connie!’ whining. not the petty bitchy whining.
“shuddup,” he rolls his eyes at you. grabbing you softy but securely around your neck. “gimme a kiss.”
it’s a chill day. soft rain pouring outside. wind blowing, but not enough to be noisy. no traffic around, just the sound of the rain hitting the roof window in your room.
you’re laying up against the headboard on your fluffy bed—soft hands absentmindedly playing with the pink hanging canopy bed drapes. the other scratching against connie’s overgrown buzz cut as his head lays against your bare thigh. this is nice.
connie looks up at you, watching another episode of hello kitty and friends on your macbook pro—giggling to yourself.
it’s around 3ish in the afternoon and you two have done nothing but lay around in your pjs all day. he came over the other day to your apartment and had yet to leave. he didn’t even bother packing anything—half his shit is scattered around your room anyway.
he’s thumbing over your panties—the cute white ones he loves with the little red ribbon right at the top—when he hears you sigh out his name.
“connie, are you looking?” you take your hand off your curtains and itch at your collarbone, bringing his attention to the bite marks on your neck.
“yeah baby,” here it comes. “you know how much i love watching weird talking animals do weird talking animal shit.” you grin to yourself. knew it.
he sits up, stretching his arms until his shirt rides up a little—exposing the happy trail fading towards his tummy.
sure does make you happy.
he’s standing now, looking down at you smile at him like a love-struck puppy—big eyes gleaming up at him.
“what’re you lookin at?” he fakes annoyance, leaning down to trap you on the bed—his hands caging you in.
you giggle dreamily, finger coming up to trace his sharp jawline. “you, you’re really cute.”
he puts on a disgusted face. clenching his fists and giving light one, two jabs to your jaw. listening to you giggle at him.
“hmm,” he glances to your pretty lips, “gimme a kiss then.” he does that weird thing where he puts his tongue over his top lip & pouts, leaning in to you.
“ew. connie quit it!” you laugh loud when you push at his chest. he backs you into the headboard—nowhere to go.
“thought you said i was cute?”
“nuh uh,” you feel him rub on your ass. big hands running up & down your back before pausing to squeeze and repeating. you peck his lips.
“what the fuck was that?” his brows furrow, “want a better kiss than that, princess.”
you lean in, slowly rubbing your lips across. pecking, pulling away, pecking, pulling away, before you feel his tongue slide into your mouth, tangling with yours. he’s softly biting your bottom lip when he’s pulling away, a trail of saliva following when he delivers a rough smack to your ass before pulling you back in.
you whine into his mouth, already getting drunk off of just his lips. connie’s always been a good kisser, even when he was just a beginner to everything. he always caught onto the concept fairly quick.
he’s pulling you by your thighs towards the edge of the bed so you can lay flat on the back before he’s getting on top of you and pulling away for air.
“you good?” you’re already huffing and connie finds it cute, though he tries to hide the amusement in his face with a furrow in his brows and a faux concerning tone.
“y-yes…m’good.”
he’s pushing your knees up to your ears before you can even respond fully. getting a fresh view of the little mess your pussy made in her panties. he coos and rubs a thumb over your clothed clit, humming when you shudder.
“ya wanna have fun or ya wanna watch hello kitty n friends all day?”
you sniffle, “wan’…wanna have fun.”
he grins at you, leaning down to place a single kiss on your nose before giving one harsh hump against your panty-clad cunt.
“fuckkk,” he moans loud before continuing. grinding himself on you hard and fast, handling your tits for leverage. “feel you soaking through my boxers princess, you want it?”
you rub your hands over his chest, eyes following the bulge that started swelling up through his boxers as he humps you, “wan’ it s’bad..wan’ it in me connie.” you whimper when you feel him grind against your clit.
“shit.” abruptly he pulls away his hips, “get it wet baby.”
you’re already taking him out his boxers, rubbing the slit a little before spitting in your hand to coat his cock, he moans and humps into it, trying to match the pace of your strokes.
you start to get a little impatient now. as much as you love watching connie’s pretty cock twitch in your hold while you make him feel good, you love the feeling of him inside you more. stopping your ministrations on his dick you look up at him with big teary eyes and a pretty pout on your lips. “connie…”
“aw, i’m sorry baby,” he gives a fat smooch to your cheek before shoving your panties to the side and spitting right on your cunt. “m’right here.”
you you yelp when he slides three fingers in your entrance without warning, little hands springing up to push him away. connie’s fingers were just so thick. everything about connie was thick. sometimes you find yourself struggling with just one of his fingers so for him to just shove three in there without any warning had tears streaming down your pretty face.
“shh. i know, i know. taking it so well baby, such a good girl.” he watches your expression go blank and a loud drawn out whine escape your lips when he curls his fingers against a specific part in your cunny. “right here huh?”
he abuses that spot until he can tell you’re used to his fingers and lines his cock up, ignoring the look on your face that almost says, ‘finally.’
he likes when you get in your cute little, ‘im a big girl, i can take it’ moods. like you don’t start screaming and crying as soon as his fat cock is in if your pussy doesn’t get princess treatment for at least 15-20 minutes. it’s ok though, he’ll give you what you want today.
he’s pushing his hands against your thighs to slowly slide into you, his thick cock stretching you out beyond comprehension.
he’s only about an inch or two in when you stop him, you tried your hardest to be a big girl but it’s just too fat, feels like he’s splitting you open.
“wait—ngh—wait…s’big.” connie rubs against your pudgy tummy before leaning down to kiss you once on your forehead, cooing down on you.
“m’almost in pretty baby” he wasn’t he still had about 6 more inches to go. ”just a little more ok? i know it hurts but you’re my big girl right?”
“uh huh..” he starts pushing back in slowly. “ ‘m your—ngh—a big girl..”
“yeah you are.” and in one harsh thrust he’s all the way in, splitting you open. you’re immediately pushing at his lower tummy trying to get him to let up some. you were barely even calmed with the one inch so for him to push all of it it. you felt like you were gonna die.
“omgomg. s’big, s’big—s’too much…!”
connie just shushes you and leans down, kissing at your nose. he knows it takes you a minute to adjust to his cock. you start crying and you throw a fit and then you’re cumming in a matter of seconds. he thinks it’s cute.
he brings his hand down to rub your clit, rolling his eyes when he hears you keep whining, ‘m’gonnadiem’gonnadie’ underneath him. his dramatic girl.
he can tell you’ve calm down when he started rubbing on your clit a little. pulling the hood up going roundnround till you start twitching and whining. you’re about ok now. he pushes hard on your thighs while he fucks you. his cock sliding out before he’s ramming it all back inside. continuing his ministrations on your clit.
it only takes a little bit of this before he feels your pussy giving him what he wants. a pretty shower.
“oh yeah,” he moans loudly in your ear. “good girl baby, this pussy is such a good girl.”
your mouth forms a small o when you feel connie’s dick rub repeatedly at that sensitive goo inside you. you can’t help but scratch at his back, doing all you can to fuck yourself back against him.
“right— right there, baby.” you feel your eyes and your pussy water at the same time. “m’cumming..!”
he feels it before you even say it. it takes two, three more fucks into your desperate cunt before she’s crying and giving him what he needs. he’s following quickly after that, hopelessly humping into your pretty pussy.
“ohhhh, shit.” he pulls out, moaning to himself, hand immediately flying to his cock to pump it. “lif—lift your s-shirt up.”
you watch as all your juices on his dick slide with every pump. making your pussy tighten. he’s fucking into his hand now, throwing his head back with his eyes sealed shut. it takes one look to your pretty pussy and then his eyes glance back to your face before he’s cumming. thick droops landing right on your tummy, trailing up to your tits.
you’re huffing when he’s done. trying to sit yourself up but you just plop right back down.
“why did you do thatttt. connie!”
“what?—”
“it almost hit my face. connie, y’know i hate it on my face—” he knows you do. that’s why he tried his best to avoid it so he didn’t have to hear you whine. he only likes the whines that comes out of your mouth when he’s fucking you. the ‘your cocks too big, connie!’ whining. not the petty bitchy whining.
“shuddup,” he rolls his eyes at you. grabbing you softy but securely around your neck. “gimme a kiss.”
⋆˙⟡♡ synopis. going to a concert with your best friend certainly has its perks. and so does hooking up with one of the bandmates.
⋆˙⟡♡ contains. bimbo!reader, rockstar!baji, unprotected sex, pet names, asphyxiation, creampie, semi-public sex, baji being sleazy + eighteen plus, mdni.
⋆˙⟡♡ word count. 3.3k.
“Thanks for coming to tonight’s show! Here’s one more song before we head out!”
You’d never been much of a fan of underground rock music, and quite frankly, you still weren’t. Something about obnoxiously loud vocals backed up with random electric guitar riffs just never settle right within your spirit. In fact, you almost forgot the real reason you stood just yards away from one of the biggest up and coming rock bands.
For one thing, the air was incredulously too suffocating. Bodies upon bodies virtually sewn together despite the spacious arena that held them, and the stage lights abnormally dim—Only a few saffron-hued luminescences casted upon the four males that appeared on the platform. You hardly saw the members in the far back on their guitars but of what you could make out, one had white hair decorated with a small black streak and tan skin that glimmered under the hot lights while the other, with a dark neck tattoo and bold eyes, drank from his half-full water bottle.
Mostly by the front and center of the stage, occupied the drummer and the person who was just speaking out from the mic mere seconds ago.
“That’s my fucking brother!” Your best friend and little sister of the main vocalist, Airi shouted. She was but the replication of her brother; large, emerald orbs dazzled with long dark brown eyelashes and heaps of wavy blonde hair that fell downward to her lower back. Her outfit choice of leather pants donned with a matching corset top left none of her figure to the imagination, an ode to her love of the genre.
Wherever Airi went, you followed, and when she proposed the idea of seeing her brother and his bandmates perform, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity—Not to mention the free front row tickets he offered.
It was clear Chifuyu heard his sister from the crowd, looking down at the two of you with an illustrious smile and gesturing a two finger salute. He inched back with the microphone taut in the grip of his left hand and sent off a cue to the rest of his bandmates. Music followed hastily after and he began to sing.
Throughout the whole show, your eyes remained locked onto the raven-haired drummer. You marveled at each and every ministration he made, how his demeanor seemed to switch with each passing song and how the sweat accumulated on his perfectly toned body. In your head, you could’ve cursed Airi for not telling you about him beforehand, he’s totally your type.
You bobbed your head along to the melody that flowed within your ears and it was evident to Airi that you were enjoying the show you formally told her you “probably wouldn’t enjoy.”
She leaned over to sonorously whisper-yell in your ear. “Having fun?” The expiration of her words practically fell to flat ears had you not seen her in your peripheral view. In all honesty, you were more-so focused on the aggression that sexy drummer displayed while he played. How did he not break the drumset? Surely, he was strong enough to do so.
“Huh?” You peered over at her, vacant eyes meeting her jaded ones. She gave you her signature allknowing look and turned back to face the band.
Soon enough, the music stopped and the venue was filled with its final cheers. The stage went ominously tenebrous and the rest of the audience filed out of the stadium, except for you and Airi.
“Wanna go chill backstage?” Airi proposed. She pointed her thumb in the direction of a hallway filled with staff. “Are we even allowed to?” you started. “The place is packed with security.”
Airi mirthfully elbowed you, that sly smile on her perfectly made-up face. “I’m family, they’ll understand.”
One thing you couldn’t knock about your best friend was her adventurousness. Truthfully, you were just as bad as her, yet a bit more wary of getting in trouble—Especially if the law was involved, but you liked fun. And this was definitely what you needed. “Show me the way then, Little Matsuno.”
And with that, the both of you had set foot on your way to heading backstage.
Which undoubtedly felt like the case until you found yourself stranded among other concertgoers and personnel that you lost sight of your friend. She couldn’t have gotten far so where the hell was she? You continued your search by calling her phone, walking in any direction to pick up the slightest amount of signal.
“Hey.”
The bellow of a deep voice stopped you dead in your tracks and you sheepishly looked up with silent hopes that you hadn’t gotten in it with the wrong person. Much to your dismay (Or maybe it was a blessing), the man you’d been eyeing all night stood tall above you. Long, wavy noir tresses sat at his wide shoulders to match his black tank top that was slightly rolled up at the hem, showing off his midriff and that delicious v-line. His toned and ink littered arms folded across his chest while an undistinguishable expression etched over his features.
“Uh, hi.” You blinked a few times in dubiousness at the circumstance you so gracefully landed yourself in. Proximal distance to his figure led you to tread backward a few steps until you were at a comfortable enough range to take him in fully.
He looked so fucking mean, thick eyebrows pursed together, and sharp, amber eyes narrowed upon your figure.
“What do ya think you’re doin’?”
You had half a mind to drop to your knees and show him what was on your mind, yet you remained to keep yourself where you stood, for his sake of course.
His eyes bored holes into your frame. Whereas you couldn’t keep up with his unwavering eye contact, he managed to take note of every little quirk about you. “Um.. I was looking for my friend.” Your throat felt dry as you began to speak. “She said I could come backstage—Her name’s Airi Matsuno, Chifuyu’s sister.” The words got quieter as you spewed them out. You weren’t sure if it was your nerves or the intimidation, he’s so much taller up close.
“Eh? Fuyu’s lil’ sis?” He looked behind him to one of his bandmates, that same one as before with the blond streaks and neck tattoo. It seemed as though every member had genes blessed by the deities up above. “Tora, does Fuyu have a sister?”
The man you come to realize as “Tora” affirms your claim, adding that he had just seen Airi and Chifuyu leave the venue.
“Damn it, Ai.” You thought to yourself as if she’d actually given one day to not be herself.
The drummer turns back to look at you, this time unfolding his arms and standing somewhat widely. His thick dark brows remained quirked in a perplexed manner. He leans down to meet your gaze, hands hidden in his pockets as he concludes. “Some friend you got there. She left ya all alone.”
“She does that sometimes.” You reply.
He straightened up back to his full height, his expression softening, and a slight crack of a smile on his lips. “Guess i’ll keep ya company ‘til she comes back.”
Any other day, your humility would’ve been disregarded to the back of your mind. In all actuality, you were discourteous and loved attention, yet the feeling of a celebrity seemingly stooping low enough for some lost, 20-something year old groupie in disguise, kept your modesty in perfect condition.
“Oh, you don’t have to-“
Your words were quickly cut off by his cold demeanor as he opened one of the doors in the narrow hallway beside him. “But I wanna. /Ven aqui/.“ Eyes looked into yours like daggers and you couldn’t quite tell if he were vexed at your facade or if he were just blessed with bedroom eyes.
You followed him into what seemed to be his greenroom. It’s complete with a set of drums on one side near the corner and a half opened window, and a leather couch in the middle, not to mention the rack of clothes on the other edge.
“Didn’t catch your name, though. You are?” He questioned, sitting at the drumset in front of you. You made yourself comfortable on the plush couch, pulling the hem of your pink bodycon down in hopes you don’t reveal too much.
“I’m Y/N. And you are?”
He raises an eyebrow then follows it with a hearty laugh. “You came to my show ‘nd ya don’t even know my name?” You felt heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but he was right. You didn’t know any of the members aside from the obvious, Chifuyu.
“My friend dragged me here, I just go wherever she goes.” You retort, a cordial grin on your face. He adjusts his sitting position and spreads his legs slightly.
It’s coming. The urge to suck dick.
“Yeah? Name’s Baji. You can call me Keisuke though.”
He pulled the pair of drumsticks from his back pocket and quietly tapped away. “You’re cute.” Dexterously, he twirled one of the sticks between his fingers where you noticed his black lacquered nails paired with the skull-esque designs of the rings that adorned said digits. “You like a college student or something?” Heat spread across your cheeks at the comment. A band member calling you cute was not something you thought you’d experience tonight, but there’s lots you haven’t experienced yet.
“Mhm. It’s a lot though, I'm thinking of dropping out.” More calm your voice was, and he picked up on your energy, sending a stern glance your way.
“Nah, don’t do that.” The melodic tapping from the drumsticks halt. “Ya seem like a smart girl, don’t be like me.”
Curiosity overtakes you, causing you to press forward. “And what are you like, Keisuke?” His name tasted saccharine falling off your tongue and filling your ears with the sweetest music. Keisuke, Keisuke, Keisuke.
“Dropped out at 14, ran around with a few gangs, and now ‘m doing music.” His words register in his mind before he continues. “But ‘m makin’ good money now, maybe you should live like me a little.”
A giggle resonated within the room and he felt his heart swell at the cute laughter. He wasn’t quite sure what urged your joy but he returned it with a smile of his own. You truly do have the prettiest face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Ya know..” His words slipped off his tongue like honey and in turn you gave him the most of your attention, curious eyes locked on his dismal bronze ones. “I got this beat I can’t get out my head. Can I get your opinion?” His expression was glazed over in calculation with a slight pat to his thigh that you seemingly picked up. Instinctively, your body moved on its own and replied to his silent call. As you nestled into his lap, you only hoped that this had been what he was asking for. “Mhm.” Your response was curt and barely escaped under the pressure of your breath.
Your back was pressed against his chest and your core was slotted over his thigh, a relatively intimate position despite the need for cordial relations. He started up on the drums, stirring up the common one-two, one-two beat that emphasized its focus on the round bass drum that sat at the bottom of the set. It was as if with each press to the drum pedal the muscle of his thigh dangerously tensed beneath your heat, eliciting surges of delirium and pleasure straight to the very source. It’s clear he knew what he was doing from the onsight of your glossy lips parting and the faintest decibel of a gasp leaving your lips.
“Y’like it?” Deep voice ghosted over your ear as he leaned in precariously close. “Y’sure it won’t sound better like this?”
The beat he originally created morphed into one of a sonorous, heavier tone. Your body vaguely rocked over his, your tits bouncing from the nefarious rising and falling of his leg in the sweetest, yet most sinister tandem with his flexing thighs.
And all restraint vanished from within you as you diligently rutted your hips. You felt embarrassed. Like a needy nuisance needed to be taken care of, yet again, your humility sat idly by and pride dwindled from your very being.
“That—That sounds nice.” Your reply was breathy and if you thought enough of this through, your little plan of passing your insatiability off as adjusting your position would’ve worked on him. But it didn’t.
The sultry, damp sensation he felt on his blackened denim pants told him otherwise. Baji chuckled to no one in particular, the sharp canines on display while he smirked mirthfully to himself. He’s had his fair share of girls practically throwing themselves at him, and still, you were the most fun to play with.
The flexing and relaxing of his muscles didn’t let up, as with your ruthless humping. You held tightly to his knees with the pressure only gradually increasing when you felt yourself crumbling in his hold.
On the verge of your awaiting orgasm, Baji’s lips press against the shell of your studded ear.
“I saw you starin’ in the crowd tonight—Couldn’t keep my eyes off that tiny lil’ dress you’re wearing.” He moved one hand from the drumset to snake over the front of your garment, calloused hands kneading at your soft and pert breasts. The movement was one of full dexterity. Your nipples ached as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.
“Knew you weren’t wearin’ a bra.” his lips against your ear trailed down to your neck which caused the helplessly rutting of your core over his thigh, strikingly close to orgasm. You had managed to keep your whimpers low but due to proximity, you left nothing to be unheard. A harsh tug of your nipples pulled you from the hazed out state you were entranced in.
“Gotta tell Tora I won our little bet.”
False lashes fluttered with every move the both of you made. Your voice was soft as you responded, “You’re just so fucking fine, Couldn’t help myself.”
He was used to the attention. He’s a 6’0 rockstar with a checkered past — Any girl would fall for that cliche shtick, yet something within him wanted to toy with your naivety. Would you really believe anything he said?
“I don’t get much attention from fans, but you? You’re special.”
It was that moment that sent you over the edge, a lewd cry followed by your body convulsing, pretty face screwed up in pleasure, letting Baji know your release had hit you, and fucking hard at that.
“Oh ho? That did it for ya, huh?” He watched in awe at the sopping mess of his pants while allowing you to ride out your high completely before those same strong hands bunched your dress up at the hip.
You rested against his back for a while as stray pants waned themselves from your lips.
“Ya poor thing, I ain’t even get to finish my drummin.’” his hands left your tits as he rasped out the words and settled on turning you around to face him on his lap. “Sorry..” you meekly responded. An airy chuckle sounded itself from him as he whips out his throbbing hard length.
It should be illegal to be as thick as a fucking Coke can, yet there he was — The tip flushed a deep mauve, and pretty pearlescent beads of precum streaming down his cock and over the few veins that seemed to run along the shaft. The prettiest dick you’ve ever seen, and you stared in awe until the deep clearing of his throat caught your attention.
Pumping it shallowly, he pushed those cute fucking pink lace panties to the side, revealing your glistening and sticky folds to him. He prodded the tip at your hole, bullying your core that left you aching for his touch.
“Ride it for me, muñequita.”
With no hesitation, you sank yourself down onto his cock, carefully taking him in.
“Fuck—” The low whimper is sounded from you as you began to bounce yourself on his lap. He felt impossible to take and with your hands rested over his shoulders paired with his arms at your waist, slowly pushing you further down, you didn’t think you could take it. “That’s it, baby. Ride it like it’s yours.” He cooed, letting his head fall back as you got him off.
You bit at your plush bottom lip to elicit any moans from flying which reigned ineffective when you picked up pace and rolled your hips, allowing his cock to drag against that spongey spot within your walls that had your resolve weakening.
Obscenities and the reverberation of skin on skin bounced against the walls of his green room. You were tighter than any girl he’d ever been in and much cuter too.
Once you were able to fall into a comfortable rhythm of bouncing on his cock he hastily began to work toward his own release having grown tired of your saunterous riding.
He lifted you up off his length and turned you around so that you were bent over his drumset. “I know you were trying your best,” he followed up his words with a quick slap to your ass before aligning his cock with your slit once more, “But i’m gonna need better than that.”
Baji noticed the way you faltered once he built up his own pace, with more fervor than the previous. You almost fell forward with the trajectory of the thrusts and to his chagrin, your moans amplified.
“D-Deep! ‘S so deep!” You cried wantonly. You felt your guts get turned inside out with his vigor. A scoff was heard from him in response, the inked up hands that rested at your hips now filing up your body and hooking at your elbows, holding you back flush against him as he continued to hit harder within your walls.
You felt unsteady when his right hand trailed up to your neck and gripped at your jaw before his index and middle finger slipped past your lips into your mouth. The metal of the rings tasted metallic and felt cold against your tongue, those being the least of your concerns when you felt your high from previously coil right up within you once more.
Without warning, you were hit with your release that left you limp in his hold, his fingers retracting from your mouth and messily running down your fat bottom lip where he also smeared a mix of saliva and cherry oil gloss down your chin.
Just momentarily from the sight of how pretty you looked, convulsing and crumbling because of his doing, he followed suit and filled your insides in thick, hot spurts of his cum, drops dripping down your thigh when he continued to rut inside you, emptying himself of his need.
It took you both a while to settle down, his lips hungrily taking in your neck down to your shoulder.
“Was that deep enough for ya?” He rasped and haziness filled your system when you pant to respond. “I-“
Just before you could respond, there’s a knock at the door and a familiar voice accompanied.
“Y/N! You in here? I’m ready to leave!”
It’s Airi, loud and clear after her awaited reappearance.
“Shit.” Baji cursed under his breath. He pulled you off of him and bent you over slightly, fetching a thick black marker from the table beside him and holding the cap between his teeth.
The uncomfortable sensation of the felt tip on your ass trailing down to your thigh lasted mere seconds as you tried to make out the shapes you couldn’t see. “Here’s my number. Don’t forget me.”
He stood you up properly and fixed your skirt, sending you off with a pat to your ass.
tags. age gap, reader is like 18-20, kishibe is 50+, fem reader, sex work, sir kink, so self indulgent it’s insane
“Thought you were a big girl.”
“I am.”
“So start acting like it.”
Nonchalance has got to be in the top ten worst traits a man can have. Along with arrogance, impatience, and an awful sense of humour. He’s fifty-something years old. Old geezer should be begging to bust inside. Inside a tight, wet, barely legal cunt. You should be giving him a fucking heart attack upon orgasm. Pussy so good it killed a man.
But not this old man. When he’s buzzed he can’t get it up. You know that about him. So he comes to you stone-sober, not often, very rarely in fact. He holds out longer than you hope each time, makes you cum thrice then he’s ready. Fucks clean and nasty all at once. Has a thing for your tits, especially the shiny piercings, likes the way they sit so pretty. A lot of guys like ‘em, slobber on them, suck on them like little fucking babies, bite them a bit too hard. He just gives you a once over, a harsh squeeze, the fat spilling between the gaps in his fingers.
Goes by his last name only. Kishibe. He pisses you off. Talks down to you. Tells you to straighten your back, eyes on him, hands behind your back— too many fucking instructions. You’re here to fuck, suck and leave. He doesn’t fuck raw - told you he didn’t wanna catch anything nasty. You understood that, he’s old, herpes could put him on his death bed. You couldn’t let your best lay go out that way.
As much as you hate to admit, you look forward to your time with him, he’s clean with a big dick and a nice face. That’s as good as it gets. Pays well too. Slips the extra note in your bra on your way out. Sometimes you wonder if you’re the only one he sees. If he’s lonely, if he’s got a lady that you don’t know about, if you’ll be in his will ‘cause you’re the only one he seems to know. Fortune dedicated to the girl he met at the red light district. That would be a pleasant surprise.
“Hey, big girl,” Kishibe flicks your forehead, “eyes over here.”
His cock is weighty, hangs downwards when he’s hard ‘cause he’s hung like a horse. Slaps it on your cheek when you’re not paying attention. The wet tip leaving a silver trail along your cheekbone. Like a snail does.
It’s soft on your tongue. A velvety tip that’s leaking salty and musky precum. He doesn’t take care of himself very well. Come on old man, you have a good twenty years left in you, keep it up. Can’t let this big cock go to waste. You don’t think of him fondly, but god it would be such a shame. They don’t make men like Kishibe anymore.
“Go on then,” he nods his head, “suck cock like a big girl.”
You do suck cock like a big girl. You totally do. He just expects you to take that monster of a dick so far into your throat it gets jammed in your windpipe. He wants to see your throat bulge. Wants to see you cough up his seed. Gross old prick.
“That’s it,” his voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t throw his head back, doesn’t even blink. And you’re all worked up, panties sticking to your core over a mouthful of dick. Unfair. You wanna get him hot and bothered. Hear him make a noise that goes above like twenty decibels. That isn’t a strained groan, or a whispered curse, or a grunt. You want him to lose his composure, crumble when you run your tongue along the vein on his underside. “Up.”
He rubs your sore knees, hooks his fingers in your panties to pull you close. “You’re a baby,” he tells you as you clamber onto his lap, lacking all the grace in the world.
“I’m not.” You insist.
“You are,” he pinches your pout, “stupid little girl.”
