A/n; I kinda put together two fics I wrote..sooo hopefully this make sense??idkk
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You don’t know what he saw in you, not really.
He was already beautiful in that broken-glass way , soft-spoken and sharp-edged, the kind of person who smiled like it hurt. Kazutora wore his pain like jewelry, and he never flinched when people stared.
You met him at the animal shelter, of all places.
He was crouched next to a scruffy kitten, murmuring something in a voice too gentle for someone with ink creeping up his throat. You cracked a joke, he cracked a smile, and somehow, that was enough.
He’s not what people think.
He’s not the threat ........ you are.
Kazutora is all careful glances and lingering hesitations, like he’s waiting for permission to fall apart. You tease. You test. And every time you push, he follows.
Tonight, he’s on your bed, leaned back on his hands, eyes heavy-lidded from the wine you split earlier. His shirt’s ridden up slightly, revealing a sliver of the tiger inked across his hip.
He doesn’t move when you lean in, not even when your fingers trail lightly along his arm.
“You let me do whatever I want,” you murmur.
Kazutora’s gaze drops to your mouth. “Yeah.”
His throat bobs. He looks up at you through his lashes. “Because you make me feel like I can stop pretending I’m a good person.”
You freeze ,not because you’re shocked, but because you get it.
You grin, slow and dangerous. “Who said I wanted you to stop pretending?”
That earns a breathless laugh. A little desperate.
“I want you to ruin me a little,” he admits, quiet. “Just enough.”
Your fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.
He lets you pull him closer.
He’s not addicted to chaos — he’s addicted to your version of it. The kind that doesn’t come with blood on his hands, but fingerprints on his soul. You don’t drag him into darkness. You invite him to step in willingly.
And Kazutora? He’s already halfway gone.
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His voice is already breathy before you even touch him.
“kazu,” you say, leaning over where he sits at the edge of your bed, shirt off, knees apart. “You sure?”
You click your tongue and cup his jaw, making him look up.
He swallows, eyes wide. “Yes. I want -please.”
That soft desperation. That raw need in him, it’s almost too much. You push him back gently by the chest. He lets you.
You settle over his lap, fingers tracing the tiger ink on his side.
“You’re so easy for me,” you whisper, almost like a secret. “One look, and you melt.”
Kazutora moans quiet, already falling apart and your lips haven’t even touched his neck yet.
You take your time with him. Because you like watching him come undone.
Your hand slips into his hair, tugging just enough to tilt his head back. You kiss along his throat, teeth grazing skin.
That breaks him. His fingers curl in the sheets, hips twitching under you.
“Say it again,” he pants.
You pull back just enough to look him in the eye. “You want to be my good boy?”
He nods, eyes blown wide, so sweet it hurts.
“Yes, please—I just wanna make you proud.”
Oh, Kazutora. The boy who’s always been afraid of ruining things, begging you to let him be ruined, as long as you’re the one guiding it.
You slide your hand lower, palming him through his jeans.
“You’re doing so well,” you breathe, stroking slow. “Look at how hard you get from just a little praise. Fuck, you’re precious.”
His head drops back, hips rocking up into your touch — not even subtle anymore. He’s already sweating, biting his lip, trying to hold himself together.
“Please,” he begs again, voice shaking. “I wanna be good for you. Let me be good.”
You kiss him hard ,open-mouthed and messy , then pull back just enough to say:
“Then take it. Take everything I give you, and don’t stop begging.”
He moans into your mouth like you just handed him heaven.
And for the rest of the night — he does exactly that.🩶
