Sucker Punch (m) Sae Itoshi

sucker punch (m) — sae itoshi

in the pivotal moments leading up to the most significant fight of his career against his estranged younger brother, sae meets a girl who turns his entire world upside down

warnings:- underground fighter!sae, fem!reader, heiress!reader, reader is coded to be feminine (wears dresses, makeup, heels, etc), language, cursing, mentions of blood, mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, unprotected sex, cowgirl, rough sex, petnames (princess, whore, slut, daddy's girl), choking, power play between sae and reader, degradation, sae is an ass towards reader

✯ chapter 1

Sae didn’t believe in love. 

Growing up in a harsh part of Tokyo where he had to fend for himself and his little brother, Rin, gave him an understanding that the world was a cruel place. Yet even crueller were the promises of a happy ending he read in crumpled up paperbacks the old bookstore down his apartment would throw out after it started to yellow. 

It was always the love stories that rarely got sold. 

Boy meets girl, they fall in love, they fight, they reunite and they live—

“Happily ever after,” Oliver’s voice slammed him out of his reverie. Those heterochromatic eyes prodded him when his silence got too loud. 

“Sae, were you even listening to what I just said?” 

The younger man slid his apathetic teal eyes to his comrade and friend. He gave a noncommittal shrug.

Aiku sighed. His frustration was threatening to boil over. It would be a month till the U20’s biggest match against Blue Lock and their starfighter was a million miles away. 

“I said: We can try the underhanded tactic to bring either Isagi or Rin down and then go for the throat. The money will be ours and we can make enough bank to last us for a year. Neither of us have to fight again. That will be our happily ever after.”

Sae was tired of listening to miracles. He stood up abruptly and nodded. 

“Whatever. I’m heading home now.” 

Aiku didn’t stop him from leaving, and neither did their other comrades.

Shouldering his heavy parka onto his sore shoulders, Sae stalked out of the U20 facility and to his car. The interior stank of takeout, sweat and the tinny rust of blood. He gunned the engine, but it faltered. Cursing under his breath, he tried again. And again. 

But, the stupid engine refused to start.

Contemplating if he should just push the damn car back to his apartment, he almost missed a soft voice clearing her throat.

“Do you need help, sir?” 

Sae was about to retort that he had it under control and she should mind her own business, when he caught sight of you. 

Dressed in a simple, beige A-line piece that showed off your legs and arms, a chain dangling from your neck and a pair of sunglasses perched on your head, you were the picture of quiet elegance. The fancy clothing couldn’t contain the humble appearance of your smile when you motioned to his car. 

“I have a pair of jumpstart cables. You could borrow them.” He still hadn’t responded to you. “If you want,” you added hastily, not wanting to seem pushy. 

Sae blinked. His silence stretched on without an intermission. 

You faltered and let your embarrassment swallow you whole. In hindsight, Sae found it adorable how you flushed and stuttered like you wished your entire existence would melt away just from his unresponsiveness. 

“Sure. That would be great.” After a beat of hesitation, he added a word which seemed foreign coming from his rough and rude tongue. “Thanks.” 

This should be the part of the story where boy meets girl. 

Sae jump started his car with your help, and as a treat for your kindness, he invited you to a late night izakaya selling his favourite kombu ramen. You were a stranger passing by, someone from the upper end side of Tokyo who noticed him struggling and decided to help.

You told him you knew what it was like to struggle and not be aided. Sae wondered what you could’ve possibly meant when he caught sight of the signet ring on your right hand. A mark of an elite.

He straightened, unintentionally freezing over. You didn’t know him; didn’t know that he was one of the men your world employed as free entertainment for nights when they craved a hit of violence. The both of you were as different as day and night.

“So, what do you do for a living?” you had asked him. 

Sae decided to tell you a lie. “I’m a blue collar worker. Delivering stuff.”

“Oh.” You took a look at the finished bowls and beers, the order sheet at the edge of the table. As if understanding what you were planning to do, Sae snatched the bill right in front of your extended hand. He couldn’t resist the small smirk decorating his face when you started to huff and pout.

“My treat,” he murmured, removing his battered wallet from inside his pant’s pocket. “And then we’re even.”

Except, he never did want to draw a tie or cut them off with you. 

Sae studied your car number plate, memorising it and used some of his connections to dig up more information about you. 

He didn’t have to look far. 

Your family were well-known as some of Blue Lock’s biggest sponsors, a direct rival of the U20 faction. Born from a history of blood and violence, your grandfather had been the first pioneer of a fight club that eventually changed the trajectory of his and many other poor men’s lives. As the money poured in, so did the promise of more extortion and exploitation.

Sae reasoned that he should’ve hated you. After all, you were partly the reason why he had to fight for a living.

But, he was intrigued by you. Your gentleness, your humble disposition. 

You were a rare jewel he had to unearth. 

One day, out of the serendipitous blue, life seemed to listen to his wishes and granted him a rare glimpse into your world.

As one of the rising Platinum fighters who everyone could bet on, Sae was invited to a networking gala hosted by none other than Ego Jinpachi himself. A raging egoist of a man who held his fighter’s lives in his palms like a deranged puppeteer, Sae found himself sitting opposite Rin and his bloodthirsty mentor.

Such a sight would not be unsettling.

As two opposite ends of the fighting arena’s spectrum, Sae and Rin drew lots of attention from potential investors.

The story of two brothers, once tightly knitted and now estranged only to eventually meet in the ring as opponents one day, was a huge investment factor. Filthy rich men with more money than God flocked to both Aiku and Ego to have a hand in orchestrating one of the biggest, historical fights in all of Tokyo’s history.

And tonight, Sae had to face each of them, wondering who would be the one to bolster up his gear or bet on whether he would emerge victorious against his brother. On the opposite side of the table, Rin was detached and uninterested. 

Both brothers barely said a word to each other all night; didn’t even glance at the other from across the table.

This apparently caused quite a stir with the investors who were taken by their stone cold treatment of one another. 

It’s a tragedy, isn’t it? To face one’s own blood in a ring and fight to spill it? 

Sae felt his brow twitch, and the room was starting to cave in. He needed to leave for some air or he would lunge across the table and sock these lofty motherfuckers right in their faces. 

The garden was a work of art designed by Ego’s careful hands. After stumbling out of the mansion’s door, he tried to hide himself behind a hedge, staring up at the starless sky as his heart continued pounding in his chest. Sae fully expected to be alone, and not to find a familiar face outside just a few feet from him, nor for you to still recognise him despite the slicked back hair and fancy suit.

“Sae,” you smiled, red lips parted to reveal a row of perfect teeth. You put out your cigarette into a Roman pillar column, leaving a halo of ash and a burnt skid on the otherwise pristine concrete. Sae thought it was rather rebellious of you to do that. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Tipping your head to the side, you studied him. His flushed cheeks, tight lips. 

“I thought you said you were a blue collar worker?” 

He decided to come clean, spitting out the truth in equal parts aggression and apathy. 

“I’m an underground fighter.”

The auburn-haired man fully expected you to crinkle your expression in disgust. Not nodding in understanding. 

“I figured. Most blue collar workers don’t have bruised knuckles.” 

Unconsciously, he tightened his fists, feeling the callouses and the split skin stretching across his knuckles. “If you knew who I was, then why didn’t you say something?” 

Why didn’t you leave? 

Rich girls like you had no use for men like him. He was a stain under your shoe, a man with a God complex high off a violent occupation with no God in sight. But, you only smiled at his question. 

“You didn’t fawn over me even when you noticed my ring. I like that.” 

Somehow, you had gotten close enough for him to smell the vanilla from your hair. Sae tipped his head back, turning his gaze to the side; the action pressing him deeper against the brambly hedge walls. “Whatever you think will happen tonight will not happen.” 

He pretended like his heart didn’t skip a beat when you reached for his hand, so much rougher compared to your soft ones. You circled your thumb over the bruise on his palm, increasing the pressure till he felt the wound throb. 

“Stop that.” But, he didn’t pull his hand away. 

You grinned. “What do you think will happen tonight, Sae?” 

His handsome, arrogant face broke out into a sneer. “Just because you order men like me around every single damn day doesn’t mean I have to give into your whims, princess.” He wrenched his hand from yours, trying to ignore how much your touch singed his skin. “And don’t ever touch me again.” 

Brushing off your crestfallen expression, he strode back into the mansion, feeling more breathless than when he abandoned the suffocating room full of investors and back-talk about his skills. Rin had left a few minutes after he had, and with his little brother out of the room, he could finally relax. 

Except, you chose this moment to enter the same room. 

Immediately, everyone stood up. 

“L/N-san. Welcome.” 

You weren’t the teasing, sweet girl in the garden anymore. Instead, you wore a look of fabricated disinterest, roaming your eyes over every single man. Lingering your searing gaze on his own wide ones before turning to Ego. 

“My father sent me here as a representative. Now, which star player do you recommend I speak to first?” 

Everyone started to clamour, calling for your attention like dogs scraping at their master’s legs for the last bone. 

Eventually, Aiku was the one who cleared his throat loud enough to get the entire room’s attention. Through the hazy tobacco smoke, he cut a handsome figure in his suit, languidly rising to his feet and gesturing at Sae.

“L/N-san, Itoshi Sae is one of U20's undefeatable players. A 6-streak win and low possibility of injuries. A prodigy. You should speak to him first, miss.” 

Sae felt like you were analysing him through his suit. 

After a beat of tension, you nodded. “Fine. Send him up to my private room.” 

You turned and left. Sae stood up, hesitantly casting his gaze to a triumphant Aiku. 

“Are you sure she is the richest one out of these assholes?” he murmured under his breath. 

Oliver chuckled.

“The richest. With her backing, we’re practically golden. Now, go and woo her. You’ll do great.” 

Straightening his tie, Aiku sent him off with a wink. Unlike the atmosphere at the garden, this time, Sae was aware he had to be on his best behaviour—which was a challenge considering he had already rudely brushed off a potential investor. 

Fuck, he swore internally. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Why had he been so brash with you?

There was no use in crying over lost chances. He had to man up and knock on the door to your office—face you when he had already insulted you right in the face.

Sae braced his hand on the red oak, breathing in deeply. Here goes nothing. He knocked three times. 

“Come in.” 

You were sitting on a sofa, legs crossed and expression neutral. Not once did you give him a look like you were hurt from his rejection in the garden. Instead, you stood up, gaze cold and faraway. 

“So. You’re the prodigy, hmm?” 

Sae kept his eyes lowered, not touching yours. “Yes.” 

You patted the sofa seat next to you, gesturing for him to come over. “Sit. We have a lot to discuss.”

Gingerly, he sat down on the other end of the sofa, putting enough distance between the two of you not to make things any more awkward than it already was. 

The silence dragged on. Sae stared at the fireplace—the flickering embers throwing lengthening shadows around the room. He counted the cadence of your breath; discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his expensive slacks.

You broke the silence first with an airy giggle. 

“I had no idea I was speaking to such a talented young man.” 

He looked up and caught the barest hint of a smirk on your pretty lips. Swallowing his dry throat, Sae croaked, “And I had no idea you were… influential.” 

You chuckled, placing your hands on your demurely on your lap. “It’s not me. It’s my father. I’m just his representative. You see, he’s currently bed bound from an injury and doesn’t have any sons so it’s up to me to oversee his work.” 

Sae responded to your words with a heartfelt nod, wishing he could turn back the time and slap his old self from pissing off a very powerful investor (and a very beautiful woman). 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” 

Glancing at him up and down, you chuckled. “I guess we’re at an impasse here. And to think I nearly committed indecency by proposing you come back to my place.” 

The memory of your hand in his sparked like a flame in his mind, burning his skin. 

“Yes. To think we could’ve done something like that.” 

Your eyes lowered to his hands. His pretty teal gaze flickered to your exposed throat. 

“It would be horrible.” Your foot brushed his knee. Sae tightened his hands into fists. 

Despite the warning bells going off in his head, he relapsed back into his impulsivity, letting it taint his next move with his debilitating habit of never saying no to danger.  

“Disgusting,” he retorted, smoothly playing your game. 

You gasped, low and quick, when he stretched his hand out to graze your bare shin. He almost smiled at your eagerness. 

Pretty rich Daddy’s girl with not a shred of self-preservation in her…

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you mumbled, uncrossing your legs and inching closer to him. 

“We shouldn’t,” he confirmed, gruff and sure, but his body was betraying him; moving to meet you in the middle of this wide sofa. 

There was something mesmerising about your eyes and face. It entranced him, kept him hooked on the curve of your profile and those alluring lips. 

Your breath brushed his cheek, warm and inviting. “It would cause a scandal.” 

Sae curled his palm over your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It would.” You turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb. Such a simple gesture made a thrill of electricity run up his spine, painfully shocking him to the heat pooling right in his groin.

“People will talk.” 

He was growing tired of this lame cat and mouse game. Moving closer, he bridged the gap, resting his large palm on your lower back to nudge you not-so-gently onto his lap. The weight of you felt familiar—right. This close, your scent of vanilla was stronger, nearly overpowering him. 

Before his lips brushed yours with an intensity that nearly made you dizzy with lust, he mumbled: 

“Let them.”

“Sae,” you mewled, nails stabbing into his fleshy biceps. 

He had you pressed against your own bedroom door, creaming right on his cock like the perfect little whore you were. Your makeup was ruined, red lipstick smudged and eyeliner crinkled in the corners. 

You had let him push your dress to the side, your panties ripped and in tatters on the floor. Sae was quick to fuck you the moment you gave him the green light to, and like the scrappy underground fighter he was, he never missed out on seizing a golden opening. 

Your thighs were trembling around his waist, struggling to hold yourself up right. Sae’s mouth devoured your weak mewls, and you let him paw at your covered breasts, ripping the dress down to expose your stiff, bare peaks. 

“No bra?” He murmured into the heat of your mouth.

You shook your head, a breathless laugh tumbling past your kiss-swollen lips. “I—mhm—don’t like to wear one.” 

“In a room with the other men…” Sae trailed off, a frightening flash of jealousy igniting his veins. The thought of any other man seeing those perfectly suckable nipples even through the silky hint of your dress made him want to break their teeth.

His growl reverberated against your throat, and you were thrown onto the bed, his larger frame crowding you into the sheets.

Sae hitched your thighs up to his shoulders, those teal eyes alight with feral lust.

“Slut.” He slid his cock back into your throbbing depths the second that degrading pet name slipped out of his mouth. “Whore. You could’ve shown them what was mine—what belongs to me.”

He bunched your cocktail dress out of the way, exposing your tits and pussy right into the cold air of your stuffy bedroom.

“Mhmf,” your eyes rolled back into your head. You were panting, bullets of sweat dripping down your face. “I-I belong to you? Says who?” 

The Prodigy nearly broke the headboard into two when he slammed into you, hard enough for the entire bed to shake. Your squeal rebounded across the room, sparking his filthy satisfaction.

“Me,” he growled breathlessly. “I said it. You belong to me.” 

Curling one hand possessively around your throat, the sloppy sounds of your two sexes meeting together sent him on a hazy high. Those teal eyes were glazed over, the broad muscles on his back twisting and flexing with every thrust into your tight, welcoming heat. 

Sae was careful not to choke you too hard, but hard enough for your mouth to fall slack, pathetic whines and drool slipping past your slick lips. 

Your toes were curled tightly in his periphery, one hand in between your legs to frantically rub your clit.

“Fucking whore,” he grunted, trying not to swoon at how pretty your sweat-covered skin looked like in the dim moonlight. “Daddy’s girl taking this dick like a champ.”

“Sae,” you dragged out his name. Ending it with a choke.

Sae felt your walls rippling around his cock, and he wasted no time in diving headfirst in between your cleavage to nip and suck at your plush fat; nursing on your nipples like a man close to starvation.

You seized, back arching and he felt those perfect velvet walls choke on his dick. Squeezing down on him.

“Cumming for me already?” He spoke in between harsh exhales. “Fuck. Fuck. This pussy is fucking perfect. I want you to cum for me—only for me. Do it, Y/N. Milk this cock, Princess. Let me fucking fill you up—fuck.” His choked moan made you see stars; the hand around your throat was now gripping your hair, forcing your feverish lips onto his. 

You practically ripped at his dress shirt, tearing two buttons off to scratch down his chest. Animalistic whines and low grunts filled the heated space between both your mouths. Sae tasted like champagne and regrets, his tongue lapping right at your teeth. 

With one last hard thrust, you broke around his cock, triggering his warmth to fill you up. 

Sae slumped onto you, and you dug your heels into the band of his slacks, pushing it further down his toned thighs to expose the rise of his firm ass to your wandering eye.

Your nails bit into the plush globes, raking down his thighs. You played with his balls, squeezing on them lightly to take every drop. Unable to resist taking all of him however you could. 

Sae smeared hot kisses down your throat, on your jaw and across your heaving mouth; completely smitten by how cockhungry you were. 

The both of you sat in the filth of your mutual mistake, stewing in the greasy silence until you nudged his shoulder. The look in your eyes was glorious; an opponent about to make her next move. Usually, he would push back—never surrender.

But, something locked his muscles in place, keeping him focused on the rise of your shoulders—the dip of your collarbone painted in his hickies. 

He let you push him back onto the bed, watching intently as you ripped the expensive dress right off your frame, gesturing to his still clothed torso.

“Take it off. Let me see you.” 

Like the obedient fighter he was, Sae unbuttoned his white dress shirt, letting it melt off his broad frame and onto the floor. Scars littered his milky pale skin, catching your curiosity. He silently observed as you straddled his thighs, working his cock back to half-mast with your much smaller fingers. All the while your other hand never stopped caressing his broad pecs and chest; tracing his scars. 

Sae didn’t know what possessed him to sit still and watch you. 

It was like seeing a painting coming to life; the remorse which melted into determination right in your fiery eyes. 

He let you sink down his cock, bracing your palms right on his shoulders. You bucked your hips slowly, grinding down on him with a painful passion; almost like you were afraid of making any sudden movement.

Sae found his large palms slotting perfectly on your hips, holding you right in place. 

Pleasure unfurled itself down your body, bending your spine back. It soused across your face, turning your determined stare hazy. You locked eyes with him, and he didn’t dare look away. 

“Feels so good,” you managed to pant. “Your cock feels so good.” 

He undulated his hips upward, instinct pushing him to surge towards the opening of your cervix. “Yeah?” he almost growled. “Can’t keep your fucking hands to yourself—you’re such an eager slut.”

Despite you being on top of him, Sae was still in charge. He clamped a hand around your throat; yanked on your hair until your neck snapped back and your cry bounced across the room. 

“Ride me,” he spat and then licked his lips. “Prove to me that good whores deserve to cum. Make me proud, baby.” 

Sae was entranced; unable to tear his eyes away from your pussy leaving milky rings of cream around his cock. 

“Mhm,” you tearfully whined. “Yes, yes! I wanna make you proud—wanna make you cum again.”

A thick arm swept you to his chest, muffling your cries right into his throat. Sae bit down on the tender juncture between your neck and shoulder, bucking his hips up into you with enough ferocity to nearly throttle you off the bed. 

“Fuck—” he snarled, grabbing at every inch of your skin; spanking your ass, groping it, raking his nails down your back. 

Doing everything he could to get you melting for him. 

“Give it to me, baby.” Not an order; but a desperate plea. “Cum for me—make me cum. Pretty girl. Pretty baby—g-gonna make me lose my mind—” 

“I’m cumming!” Your hitched gasp rang loudly in his ear, like an explosion of joyous surrender. “S-Sae, I-I’m—” 

Your walls rippled around him for the second time tonight, and for the first time ever, Sae found a new rush in his life that wasn’t centred around bruised knuckles and split, bloody teeth. 

He welcomed it—that surge of crazed passion, so different from when he was about to snuff a man’s life out with his bare hands. Felt it twist his bones, break his soul. 

The world exploded in a white ball of heat again, right into the depths of your body, his heart shattering into dust. 

Sae tasted your honeyed whisper of his name on his tongue, felt your tears stain his throat. 

He held onto you as tightly as he could, afraid that if he opened his eyes, he might find himself back in the ring, the glaring lights forcing your smile from his memory.

But, the jeers and cheers never came. The bell never rang. 

It was the sweetest fight he had ever lost. 

This was the part of the story Itoshi Sae never expected. 

Sae never had a home. His old apartment was recalled back by a shitty landlord who didn’t care about two orphans trying to stay afloat with what little money their dead parents had left them. When social services had taken Rin away, they tried to get him, too, but he was faster. 

Swiftly escaping out the window, Sae recalled nothing else but memories of wet underground passageways, nights rummaging through garbage bins and saddling up to the closest homeless community for warmth and company. 

Eventually, he met Aiku and everything else that transpired before he became The Prodigy was history. 

Fighting was all he had ever known. Violence and terror were all familiar flavours on his tongue. 

But tonight, in your sheets, Sae found another sensation creeping up his unsuspecting body that he could not quite name. It was sticky and hot, curling down his spine like a languid rush of lava to pool somewhere deep in his chest when he took in the sight of your pussy wrapped around his cock. 

He fucked you deep and hard, like he was trying to erase that sensation. But, you brought it back to the surface with your fingers in his hair, your lips on his and the sweet moans of his name brushing his hot ears. 

Where it was easy to repress his entire soul away from the world, Sae struggled to keep his emotions in a tightly shut jar under your gentle attention. 

Sae never believed in love; never believed in someone else’s goodness long enough to be confident in his own grace. But, he supposes that tonight’s encounter with you was the closest to love he could ever get. 

You let him stay the night, comfortable with him warming your sheets. Sae spent the entire sunrise staring at your face, memorising the curve of your nose and cheeks. That strange sensation was back again, this time stirring him to brush a piece of hair from your temple. 

But, like every good love story, it would not be the same without personal demons haunting every sentence. 

Sae wasn’t good for you; he knew that. You were a whole station above him, impervious and untouchable. 

Unlike fighting, there was no prize in the arena of love. No fame, no glory. 

Sae wasn’t sure what would be at the end of this chapter, and a part of him, the scared little boy who had been abandoned by forces beyond his control, didn’t want to stay to find out. 

Nothing good would come out of this if he pursued a story that he didn’t know an end to. 

The morning after, he had vanished, and you woke up alone in this too big apartment; smell of cedar and oranges still lining your blankets. 

Like it was a dream or a memory you could not quite shake off, you wandered down the halls, rustling every corner to find a shred of the man you had trusted enough to let into your inner world. But, he hadn’t stayed long enough to give your world any colour. 

The cold walls adorned with art your father had personally picked out for this apartment didn’t reflect your taste or your fondness as you stared at them, hard coals for eyes. The picture in front of you was of a woman, running free in a grassy sea. Above her, a weak sun shone down, illuminating her golden hair. 

Monet must’ve been the inspiration for this work, and though the French painter was known for his art that brought a sense of peace to the viewers, this particular one did not inspire the same notion. Perhaps it was the clinical wall it was attached to, or the furniture surrounding it that did not give off the warmth a serene painting like this was supposed to emote.

Whatever it was, you didn’t dwell on it long; turning on your heel and stomping back to your orange-cedar scented sheets, trying to ignore the pathetic ache in your heart which echoed the indent on the empty side of your bed.

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

꒰ྀི 𝒪𝒞𝐻𝒪 𝑅𝐼𝒪𝒮 ꒱ྀི

꒰ 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 . . . ꒱ 12.9kay words , black fem reader coded , strangers to friends to loverz , tutor armin :3 , some miscommunication , pining , slight flirting , sex on a yacht , oral sex [ r. + a. receiving ] , fingering , cum swallowing , dumbification , reader has a phat creamy pussie :3 , soft dom + service dom armin .

𝜗ϱ 𝓁𝓊𝓋 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝓂 𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓀 . . . had noooo idea dis wuz gna b dis long . . ૮꒰ ྀི . . ꒱ა . uhm . fic title inspired by dis song c: Minors + Ageless Blogs Do Not Touch ! ! ! ! !

life has a funny way of pissing you off, you think.

of pissing you the fuck off, actually.

if it isn’t one thing, it’s another. in spite of you ultimately  managing to find a balance between your social, academic, and family roles, after having attended winsome university for almost three years mind you; the beginning of your junior year, and first statistics lecture, all it really takes is ten seconds, ten for you to realize that all the work you have spent fighting to find an equilibrium between those three mantles is now swirled down the drain.

because within those initial, mere ten seconds, your professor introduces herself, guides you all to click on the link of a syllabus decreed almost mockingly near the top of your incoming emails, and what you see on the first page of the, admittedly sublimely, organized opening page is, ‘ exams — 75% of your grade. ‘

“i’m so screwed.”

your professor’s name is ida sullivan. her ratemyprofessor’s rating sits at a decent 3.5 / 5, 62% of the general population of students would take her course again, and her level of difficulty is a solid 4.0.

from this, you declare your own score by comparing yourself to the rest of winsome university’s students — a 3.5, round that up to a 3.8 . . and the difficulty level, a hard 4.4. while you were clearly intelligent enough to be accepted into the university ( acceptance rate is a cruel 8%, categorizing it as one of the most competitive ivy leagues in the country ), you are painfully aware that when compared to majority of your peers, you sit at a very low rank. what are subjects that took you half a lesson to grasp in high school, now takes you nearly three in college. disparate to others, you have to fit in an extra day to study before a quiz or exam, all in efforts to get a grade just near theirs.

it’s discouraging.

walking the campus’ quad, through the hallways, bypassing buildings that a multitude of your friends’ mothers, fathers, and grandparents threw thousands of dollars into every year — each day you open your eyes, you’re hit with a sense of . . dread. no true sense of belonging.

“what’s wrong?”

a month later, after having been struggling with statistical concepts for twenty two long, extremely winded days, it’s a friday.

disregarding your school being named a ‘ bottomless pit of big brained knowitalls ‘ within a world-known news outlet article, your football team wasn’t half bad. mikasa enjoys going and dragging you along because ymir’s there, you let her to escape the four, ghoulish gray walls of your dorm who seem to be trying to speak to you after spending six hours at a desk going over the same fifteen note cards.

after the game, the rest of your group of friends find you — eren, pieck, reiner, ymir, and historia — and sometimes, usually after a win, you all pile up into reiner’s pick up and head to his.

a high rise condominium that over looks the bustling life of the city, completed with high windows showcasing a panoramic, three sixty view of it all. you love reiner’s apartment because, while clearly a token of affluence and grandeur, it’s also lived in. there are frames of family photos hung along the walls in the foyer, pictures of scruffy art drawn in vivid crayolas and pastels made by his baby brother pinned to the fridge, a guest room dedicated just to him when he visits. it’s precious.

“ ‘m gonna fail my stats course,” you whimper into the palm of your hands when you’re all seated upon the balcony, reposed along the propane firepit. “ ‘ve aced the syllabus and first two lesson quizzes but there’s an exam coming up in a week and i’m,” you recognize it — the choke, that mass of your throat closing as it tries to somehow work in more oxygen come the influx of tears. “m-my gpa’s gonna drop — i don’t wanna go on academic p—“

“—chill, hey.”

“no, don’t cry.”

as annoying as they can be, all of your friends are ultimately good people. there’s a soothing rubbing on your back, a comforting hand on your shoulder, hair ruffle from no doubt reiner, and a big squeeze of a hug from eren. “stats?” historia’s questioning with a darling head tilt. “hmm . . — have you tried—“

“—‘ve tried everything.”

you’re falling back against the cushioned bench where you sit, crossing your legs atop of one another and dabbing the few pearls of tears that’ve glided themselves across your cheeks with the small pads of your fingers. “different note taking, studying methods, ‘m like . . burnt out.”

reiner takes a thick quaff of the beer he holds within one rough paw, eyes glancing up towards the glittering pellets of stars for a moment — as if they held an answer prior to lifting a shoulder, letting it drop, then retorting, “get a tutor.”

voices are overlapping before your response.

“oh, shit. yeah,” eren’s smiling — that boyishly handsome smile that achieves in placing all of his aligned, white teeth on display. “yeah. i had to get one when i took quantum physics.”

a tutor.

you have never needed a tutor. you don’t think you want a tutor. in a way, you suppose that it all kind of, cements it all — that you need help. that you aren’t as smart as you’d thought.

you want to simply mold yourself inside of the linen — ingrain your body within the weaving and take your stupid brain with you. “. . a tutor?”

slipping a cig from the inside of his pocket, eren places it between his lips in advance to leaning his face dangerously close to the fluttering flames of orange and gold and lighting it. mumbling around the stick, “yeah. i know a few people who do it for letters of recommendations from professors,” he inhales, holds it, and through a strained breath, concludes, “others, just because.”

“who’s the best?” you inquire. might as well. “like, in stats.”

“. . uh,” eyebrows furrow, green eyes lift. “. . connie?”

“no,” ymir rolls hers. “connie’s good for like, english lit and shit. he’s very articulate. go with armin — he’s a fucking genius in everything. especially math.”

armin.

the name sparks something — enters your ears, squeezes past your brain, and knocks along the walls of it. “armin uhm,” you nibble on your bottom lip, mind churning to remember a surname. “a-arlert? he’s blond?”

with the confirmation, you’re suddenly reminded of a familiar blond that sits within your lectures, always in the front row, far to the left.

“please be reminded that you do not only have me to come to for any questions, but also my ta, armin here,” first day of class, professor sullivan had gave a small chin raise his way. “he will not steer you wrong — top student currently here at the university, please take advantage.”

mikasa seems to perk up come the mention of a clearly familiar name, “oh god, yeah. armin’s so nice. yeah, ask him.”

you’d thought with their encouragements that you’d be able to actualize tough enough skin to walk up to the guy, ask for some help, and get it over with — nonetheless, at the end of the day, you’re just a girl with an insane amount of pride. you don’t need tutoring. you’ll be okay.

commence your exam grade being returned back to you — 68 / 100.

it’s a tuesday when you finally generate the guts. thankfully, you aren’t the only one who has questions for armin. there are two students ahead of you — a guy you recognize by the name of hayden, campus’ running back on the football team, and a girl, grace. hayden asks him a simple question, something about what’s going to be the main topic on the next exam and if it’ll be as long as the previous. come him stepping away, you see the shift in grace ahead of you.

she comes to a stop in front of his desk, and after placing her exam down upon it, inclines toward him with a small lean to gently question, “on question eight — uhm, i guess i’m just . . a little confused. can you tell me where i went wrong at?”

you come to realize that armin’s voice is gentle. there’s the occasional sound of a deep tenor when he says ‘did’ and ‘some,’ words with short vowels, however, he’s mostly quiet. you can’t really hear, nor see him, only grace. she gives an occasional nod, a quiet, long, drawn out ‘ ohhh ‘ and eventually, a small giggle when the conversation is apparently over. “okay, great. thanks. i’ll see you on thursday then.”

“same here.”

upon her exiting, and you replacing her spot at his desk, seemingly, about a feet on either side of him — there’s the scent of citron and ambertonic. you wouldn’t say there’s a cloud of it surrounding him, because in a case like that, you doubt you’d be able to breathe, nonetheless, it’s definitely there. it teeters a line of an aromatic wood; reminds you of those gossamery salt tinged breezes you feel at the beach, and you suppose, come being in his line of sight for the first time, that armin’s cologne . . suits him.

he’s . . handsome. he’s attractive. he’s . . . pretty — in a kind of . . all american, golden boy way.

tawny blond hair sits atop of his head in tufts, falling near midway of his ears with a, presumably, natural part in the middle. it’s a bit darker at the roots, a kind of light brown, however it’s natural, you can tell. he doesn’t dye. his skin tone is a bit on the lighter side — there’s a blush tinged along his knuckles and the tips of his ears. it’s autumn, nearing winter, that’s to be expected, albeit still, there resides a sort of . . flaxen glow within the undertone. he tans well in the summer, you can tell.

his eyebrows match his roots, they’re admittedly well groomed. thin framed, gold matte, polygon framed glasses shield long eyelashes — and those border pools of beautiful, ocean blue. they catch you immediately, your eyes feel pinned to them due to the fact . . they aren’t necessarily an unsettling shade of blue — they teeter the shade of . . ultramarine? there are peppers of baby blue near his pupils, but, they’re . . pretty. the type of blue found only in jewels buried within the ocean floors of fiji and moorea.

“hey.” he gives a small smile, it’s polite, warm.

“hi,” you rub your lips together, quickly averting your eyes downwards — they find the chain he wears . . a simple curb chain, made of silver? white gold, maybe? it stands out against the starking white hoodie he wears, looks to be bleached by the gods. “uhm, i’m ( ❤︎ ). i heard that . . you tutor?”

he’s closing a binder, his laptop, and standing while you talk.

oh.

okay, he’s taller than you thought. for so many days, you’ve only seen him from afar, never thought he looked any taller than six feet at most, albeit, up close, he graces the line of at least six three. “oh, uh, yeah. did you fail the exam?” his eyes are . . concerned. he packs his backpack slowly, a plain, black moncler, wow, all while keeping his attention on you.

you want to wince at that word. fail. you’re close to doing so. you know it. “uh,” you hesitate, finding interest in your nail when it finds a divot in the desk beside your thigh. “i got a D.”

he doesn’t flinch away or give a sympathetic coo, only a quiet, “huh,” underneath his breath. “okay, sure, yeah,” he swings his bag over a single shoulder and pockets his phone within the one of his hoodie. “i’ll tutor you. we can start . . tomorrow? at the library? around,” he looks up, rolls those pretty, blue eyes skywards towards the high ceilings of the classroom and clicks his tongue against the fine porcelain of his teeth. “four?”

you feel relieved. your shoulders fall forwards as you both begin the trek towards the door. “yes. thank you,” oddly, you feel as though you want to cry. “i appreciate it.”

“no worries,” another warm smile, then a large hand is held up as a goodbye. “i’ll see you tomorrow then.”

wednesdays are always kind of a busy day for you. you have your microbiology lecture at ten am, and come it ending at twelve thirty, anthropology begins at one. there’s little to no time to go back to your dorm and change in preparedness for your first tutoring session because by three fifty eight, after leaving your lecture and stopping near the dining hall for a quick meal, you realize that you’re going to be late.

winsome university’s library sits on its own acre of land across the campus. it’s labeled something akin to the state’s pride and joy — was built by the founder of it and all. half of the money donated towards the school is to upkeep the library and add improvements when necessary.

admittedly, the building is gorgeous. rustic and sylvan-like — the inside of the five story high structure houses eighty thousand books, an entire level of study rooms, and two computer labs. you have only ever been a few times — twice with mikasa, once by yourself. within a distant part of your mind, you wonder why. it’s a pretty place, a quiet place. you adore it — think it’ll act as a nice change of scenery when studying. upon first entry, there’s a hushed stillness settled over the interior, save for the occasional low murmur and cough. the wicker platform of your sandals click against the buffed chateau flooring as you slowly walk, head on swivel, searching for a familiar mop of blond hair.

amidst finding him, huddled in his own, little corner on the second floor, at a desk between a shelf of autobiographies, you tap your fingers upon the wood to alert him of your arrival.

he looks up at you while pulling an airpod from his ear, giving a sort of quick scan of your face in efforts to recognize you prior to smiling, “hey,” he quietly murmurs. collecting a few books and folders that are scattered along the surface of the desk, armin soon closes and gathers them in a stack beside his expanded macbook to make room for your backpack and ipad. “sorry. i realized when i got here that . . i didn’t tell you where to meet me.”

you shake your head, “it’s okay. i found you.”

when you take a seat adjacent from him, you find yourself reimmersed within the intimate, salt tinged breeze of his cologne again. it drains your brain a little empty. “uhm,” when your ipad is opened onto a blank doc, pencil in hand, you look at him. “i . . dunno . . even where to begin.”

taking hold of the top and bottom of his frames with one hand, armin pushes his glasses a bit higher up on his nosebridge, “shit, yeah, well,” he licks his lips. “she’s started on chapter three right? frequency distributions? you . . do you get that part?”

you pause on your rejoinder. your automatic response is ‘yes,’ be that as it may, you’d only lie. big and blue, his eyes are expectant, though they don’t judge. when you quietly shake your head, he doesn’t sigh or suck his teeth, only nods and opens a notebook to a fresh page to begin to sketch a few things. “well,” he utters. “statistics’ just . . all about data, right? uhm, collecting it, reading it, drawing conclusions from it. a lot of it is taught so that we’ll have the proper methods on how to conduct research and employ the correct analyses. what do you major in?”

“pharmacology,” you reply, thumbing with the silicone nub of your pencil. “minor in ethics.”

beneath his glasses, still writing, he looks up at you, “hm,” he mumbles. “mkay,” armin looks back down. “interesting.”

his reaction . . is unreadable. it stumps you. “what do you major in?”

“petroleum engineering with a minor in communications and a foreign language.”

wow.

blinking, you quietly hum, “you must make your parents really proud.”

he scoffs a bit . . then he smiles. it’s a big grin — the biggest you’ve ever seen. it pushes charming dimples into his cheeks an inch away from deep smile lines. “ah,” he chuckles. “you’ve no idea. but,” insert a shrug, a blasé one. it says ‘eh, what can you do?’ “thankfully, i actually do love the subject, so . . can’t feel too bad for myself.”

with the intention of only warming your brain up, armin introduces a practice question to you.

‘ Data from a sample of 10 pharmacies are used to examine the relation between prescription sales volume and percentage of prescription ingredients purchased directly from the supplier. The sample data are shown below. ‘

“starting off simple, i want you to find the mean of the sales volume.”

easy enough, you think. you can do that.

as you work, the table falls quiet. armin watches you, moreso, your fingers — he needs to make sure you’re following the correct procedure. or at least, he’s supposed to. you’re distracting him. your handwriting is quite lovely as you scribble along the doc of your ipad and his eyes linger on how you hold the pencil — nails are layered with acrylic . . long and square. they’re nude based with pastel designs and pretty, gold charms. he trails them up your wrist wear a few bangles sway from, to your shoulder, your neck . . .

hm.

. . you’re actually quite pretty.

you’re very fucking pretty.

“like that?”

your eyes are wide, when they look up into his — oases of mahogany. you’re standing on pins and needles, aching for his approval.

“can i see?” armin turns the pad his way and double checks your work. “. . yeah,” gently, he begins to nod. “yeah. good work. now, do the same for the ingredients purchased directly.”

complying, from then on, step by step, he instructs you on how to properly plot the residuals. he gives you another question after that, and another, and then two more. by six o’clock, you find yourself heavy eyed. the library closes at seven. warm, dim lights are now illuminated throughout the aisles and the green visored lamp that sits upon the desk you both work scrawled atop of had been lighted by armin almost an hour ago. “thank you,” you’re softly saying as you pack your bag. you feel a little more confident in your skills — not completely A+ worthy, nonetheless, some progress was made. “i understand like, half of chapter two now.”

he’s simpering while packing his own bag, “nice. cool. you’re really not that bad at it. i think you make it harder when you double back on things just because they don’t seem right — most of the time they are.”

he’s correct. you’re just not sure of how to resolve that fickle way of thinking. “thank you, armin.”

when you’re both outside, you find yourselves cloaked within the darkness, a moon, and her millions of children. under silver rays armin’s hair lightens to platinum. you take a look at him again while he has his phone pulled in close to his face, shooting a text to someone.

he’s disgustingly handsome.

how haven’t you noticed him before?

“do you need a ride home?” he points in the vague direction of two cars — a simple, grey honda civic beside a metallic blue bmw i5. no need to wonder which is his.

you gather enough willpower to take a step back, towards the direction you came. “oh . . no,” you shake your head and your island twists move along with it. “i live on campus. it’s not a far walk.”

he looks past you, in the direction of the university’s main grounds. you’d have to walk along the twisted, lengthy pathway between here and there to get to it, past the main, lecture halls, and the dining hall, to enter the dorm buildings. his eyes squint a bit, eyebrows gather in close, and lip curls as he sucks his teeth — it’s a cute face. “that’s a long walk . . at least twenty minutes.”

“i need to get my steps in.”

“it’s cold.”

“i have a sweater.”

arminfinds himself at a loss, you have him absolutely stuck. he wants to be demanding — say something like, ‘( ❤︎ ), just get in the car,’ however, when regarding the state of the world today, he’s aware of what he’d look like. he would never. he wants you to feel and know that you have a choice, in everything. albeit, in spite of this, his mother raised a gentleman. he isn’t going to feel right, driving home, knowing you’re out here walking alone. “mm.”

you read the obvious frustration slathered across the soft slopes of his face. it’s an interesting thing — to see features like his harden and inure.

“hm,” you turn your head over your shoulder to gauge the distance once more. it is a long walk. “i think . .” a step back towards his way. “i’ll jus’ go ahead and take the ride, actually.”

he leads you towards his car, using a keyless remote to open the doors with a small ‘ beep! ‘ he’s smiling, you realize, a small thing paired with a head shake as he opens the passenger door, allowing you to slip in against cool, leather seating.

you have tutoring sessions at the library with armin twice a week — early evenings on wednesdays and late mornings on fridays. he’s helpful, he’s kind. with his methods, you pass your next exam with a lustrous B+, and for the first time in a long time, your pending future doesn’t loom over your head bordered by an infernal grey cloud full of disappointment and failures.

there isn’t a word to really describe how the two of you interact during the sessions — it’s all very . . formal. he demonstrates a math problem — muttering quiet and slow, and attentively, you listen. on more lazy days, days where your mind is churning just a bit more idle than normal, still traced with the sluggish residues of sleep, you like to admire him. today’s one of those days — because armin’s charming, he smells good, and upon a few accidental grazes, you’ve come to find that his skin is as soft as it looks, too.

“so,” he’s different today. behind his glasses, rings of mauve underline the skin beneath his eye sockets. his chin is rested within the divot of his palm and, almost idly, a finger traces the shape of his lips as he mumbles, “you gotta remember this formula — memorize it for me. the probability of success equals,” his voice breaks off in a yawn. he turns his head away, using a fist to cover it as he does.

you can’t help but yawn too.

“shit, sorry,” he smiles, sniffs, and shakes his head quickly as if to shake the drowsiness off. “uh . . the probability—“

“—n equals the number of trials. r is the number of successes during the trial. and p is the probability . . of success on a given trial.”

his eyes twinkle something akin to delight when he looks at you, “good,” he whispers. “very good.”

unable to help it, you let your upper body fall and with it, your head follows until it plops onto your folded arms, “ ‘m sleepy, armin,” you tenderly say. you’re hoping that this session could be cut short. you’ll see him again on wednesday. the two of you can cram some of this lesson into it to fall back on track. “i need a nap.”

“you need to learn this, though,” he’s tracing his lips again, absentmindedly. you wish he’d stop. “it’s gonna take us a while to get back on course.”

“but ‘m tired.”

“so?”

“you look tired, too.”

“don’t be a hellion.”

you’re giggling before you can help it, covering your bright smile with a couple fingers, “. . a what?”

he’s smirking and shaking his head, eyes focused out towards the large, arch shaped, stained glass window ahead of you both, “a . . minx. pirralho,” his smirk widens into a grin. “a brat.”

you bristle with taken ignominy. “ ‘m not,” your voice doesn’t display your true emotions. it’s quiet, a mere grumble. “i’m not a brat.”

he closes a text book with a firm thump, “wanna go grab a coffee?” he’s already shoving binders into his pack. “there’s a uh . . cafe a few blocks down. they’re really good.”

oddly, your heart skips a beat . . and in that same moment, you feel its speed pick up. you’re lifting yourself up slowly, “a coffee?”

“yeah,” he’s waiting for you. “c’mon.”

the cozy kettle is a little hole in the wall a mile out from the university. it’s sweetly nuzzled between a thrift shop and record store and upon first glance, nothing stands out to you. there’s a sign outside of it and written in pastel colored chalk on it are the specials, however, that’s about it. it’s sort of a shame though, because the interior is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

similar to how it looks from outside, it’s small, nonetheless welcoming, pleasant. there’s the smell of roasted cocoa beans and marshmallows, the sound of mellow piano keys and boiling water. the decor is homely. there are cushioned seats, a sofa, framed photos of customers, and precious, porcelain figurines. strangely, you want to cry again. you adore places like these. you can see why armin gravitated towards it.

he fits right in with his cream, cable knit sweater, tattered blue jeans, and warm, blond hair. “hey dré,” he greets the cashier by name and looks towards you first. “need a second?”

the menu is . . extensive. your eyes tremble, darting from left to right while you try to figure out what you wanted. “uhmm . . n-no, uh, just a dalgona coffee.” you’ve always wanted to try one.

he’s humming, leaning towards you on the tips of his toes, “that’s it?” he asks softly, eyes low yet inquiring. “are you sure?”

you give a nod, he squints them prior to turning back towards the register, “large dalgona coffee, please, with a large strawberry matcha latte, honey cruller, and strawberry cruller.”

after your order is taken, armin pays, and leads you up a short, spiral staircase whose landing opens into a small dining area. it overlooks the lower half of the cafe. “this is so . .” you try to find the words as you both take a seat within a little nook. it’s a plush bench, inserted within a window. you can see the busy avenue ahead and his car parked in front. “cute.”

his irises glimmer with mirth, “yeah,” he nods and takes a quick look around himself — as if he were trying to view it from your perspective. “it is very cute. i found this place a couple months back, it’s quaint.”

“mhmm.”

with a new bout of silence, you find yourself nervously picking at a loose thread of your thermal tights. other than the occasional ride back to your dorm, and of course, the ride here, armin and you are hardly ever . . truly alone. there are always other students around you both, other professors, other distractions. you have nothing to do but gaze out of the window. you don’t want to touch your phone, ‘cause that’d be rude, right? yeah.

“uhm,” armin speaks up and you’re hooked on his words, instantly, giving him your undivided attention. “so, is stats the only class you need help in?”

you pause for a moment to think about the question, “. . kind of, yeah. i mean, ‘m taking microbiology, anthropology, and an elective, too — ceramics. they’re challenging however, i get the gist of them,” abstractly, you find yourself twisting a curl that’d been threaded into one of your island twists around one of your fingers. “stats is . . . yeah,” you breathe out with a small smile. “the only class so far where i really struggle.”

armin listens to you. his eyes are pinned on yours and refuse to move anywhere else, despite you breaking the contact multiple times to look down or away.

“well,” he has his hands resting against his knees, and he sits . . comfortably — back against the window, legs agape.  “as i said before, you’re getting pretty good at it.”

“ ‘m not a natural at it,” the thought makes you pout a little bit. “not like you.”

he smiles again. you feel your palms getting a little sweaty. “nah, nah,” he shakes his head. “not a natural.”

you roll your eyes, “don’t be coy, armin.”

he’s quiet, “. . . alright. maybe.”

when you release a small groan, he laughs — it’s a boyish thing. he inhales hard between each cute cackle.

“you’re so smart,” you hum with a small smile, looking back out towards the street. “i wish it was natural for me. i have to study, like . . all day, everyday. it’s so tiring.”

“hm, you’re intelligent, ( ❤︎ ).”

when you make a face — lift your eyebrows and purse your lips, it says ‘ yeah, right. ‘ armin nudges at your knee so you’d look at him when he says, “you are.”

you don’t agree, nonetheless, you won’t disagree with him. crossing a leg over the other, another silence ensues. if you decide to be honest with yourself, they’re painful. you kind of ache . . . to know more about him, to listen to him speak again, and laugh, and smile at you. “you don’t live on campus?”

he shakes his head, the soft tufts of his hair follow with him, “no. i have a loft, about . . ten minutes away.”

“oh.”

“yeah,” armin turns himself more toward you. “so, uh, tell me . . about your parents. are they cool?”

armin listens to you while you talk, he does, really. however, he can’t be too sure that he actually retains a lot of what you say because his mind is fucking . . fogged. it’s clouded with you. he quietly admires the softness of your brown skin, the way the long wispies of your eyelashes flutter as you blink a few times, trying to remember things, how your lips pout out sometimes around certain words — you’re a fucking enigma.

a paradox difficult for him to figure out.

or maybe, you just tangle his feelings and thoughts together and — that doesn’t happen much. it’s a skill he’s mastered a long time ago with the help of his father, to never let his emotions get in the way of doing things that had to be done, disregarding the person or situation.

armin’s been sure that it’s simple attraction. it’s dwelled and has started eating at him since your second session together. and he’s thought of people as pretty before. he’s wine and dined before, has fucked only three girls in his lifetime so far, albeit, none of them have ever sparked the sentiments he’s been inwardly battling for nearly a month now, except for you.

he thinks now that this is . . a crush. he isn’t sure if he likes it. it’s too much. he feels too much, thinks too much.

“what about you?” he’s tuning back in when you give him a polite smile. “are your parents cool?”

“oh . .” he shrugs. “yeah. they’re nice. they’re . . old.”

“they’re old?” you’re giggling again.

he smiles. he likes the sound of it. “yeah, m’dad is like . . fifty eight. mom’s fifty five. they’ve been together for thirty five years now. was an arranged marriage type deal but, they actually liked one another.”

“do you have siblings?”

armin shakes his head, “no, ‘s jus me. i have dogs though,” he’s states. “had them since middle school.”

a barista is setting your drinks and crullers down on the small table in front of you soon after. they all appear so tempting. you and armin give your thanks and as you take a teaspoon of the coffee froth toppled atop of your own drink, you take a look at armin’s.

there’s pink near the bottom of his glass cup and it fades into a sweet gradient of green from nearly half of it on up. “here,” after he takes a sip, he pushes his glasses up higher upon his nose and brings the plate of crullers closer between you both. “have you ever tried one?”

you nod slowly, “years ago though.”

the crullers are both golden brown. the honey cruller is glazed with syrup and dusted with powdered sugar, however the strawberry one is more of a pastry. there are two of them stacked on top of one another with whipped cream layered in the middle. “ ‘ll just . .” armin takes a butter knife, and carefully, he cuts the first one in half, followed by the strawberry. “there you go.”

you watch, amazed, how he pops his half of the honey cruller inside of his mouth and begins to slowly chew.

by no means was it a little piece, both desserts are about the size of his own fist. “y’just gotta . .” he’s smirking while he chomps. “go for it. tastes even better that way.”

you try to do what he does — only fit half of it inside and sticky sugar smears along the corner of your lips. unleashing a small sound of disappointment, you take a napkin to dab it away.

“ ‘s good, no?”

“it’s yummy.” it is. the texture’s heavenly.

you notice that he eats the strawberry cruller more slowly — bites half of it, lazily chews, swallows, then finishes it. marveling the tincture of his drink again, you soon sweetly denote, “you like strawberries.”

there’s the pink of his tongue, swift, it peeks past his lips so that he’s able to rid them of specks of sugar. “hm? you can tell?” he's chewing on the inside of his cheek — the motion of it causes the dimple in his cheek facing you to play peek a boo. “yeah, they’re m’favorite fruit. an uh,” he huffs a small laugh here and thumbs with his glass. “a family friend, she owns a strawberry farm. i go there every spring . . she lets me pick like, a freaking boatload of ‘em. i ship ‘em here to m’loft.”

“yeah?” you’re simpering. you try to picture it — a more tanned armin, crouched and picking through bushes for the most plump, most ripe berry with sweat beads dotted along the margin of his forehead. “that sounds so nice.”

“it is. you should come this spring.”

unheedingly, your spine straightens. ‘ this spring. ‘ the sun, the greenery, a strawberry farm, armin in tees and short sleeved garments. your cheeks swelter, your heart blooms. “uhm,” you revert your attention back outside of the window. you hope your smile isn’t too wide. “yeah. that’d be swell.”

you don’t really know how it happens.

armin remains your tutor for the rest of the semester. four days and nearly eight hours a week spent around one another — it is no secret to yourself that what little attraction you’d felt towards the boy at the start evolves into something more . . a feeling more ample and vast than you could have ever imagined. on friday afternoons, after your tutoring lesson is over, you both frequent the cozy kettle. you order your dalgona coffee, he grabs his strawberry matcha latte — contrarily, never the same pastries. there are the yummy macarons, iced with little faces of bear cubs in buttercream, moist banana breads, and sweet strawberry tarts. and over these delicacies, what are seconds spiral into minutes, and what are minutes, hours. you immerse yourself within a boy — a sweet boy. you learn about his favorite color ( cornflower blue ), his favorite foods ( creamy tomato prawn pasta and smoked salmon sandwiches, toasted bread preferably ), what his hobbies are ( chess, painting, and . . wood carving ?! ) , what he enjoys doing when not focused on his schooling ( sleep, taking walks within the city ).

armin arlert is beautiful, you discover. he’s beautiful inside and out, starting from the few, dark moles that pepper the back and sides of his neck to the childhood scar that runs vertically across the top of his right foot ( showed you one day while you both sat on the sun warmed grass of the quad . . learned a lesson to not run with scissors after that anymore ). he interweaves himself within your life until he’s nearly all you think about, every single day.

your friends notice. they’d all explained that they knew armin from way back — the group of them attended the same high school, therefore, it was no question as to how they were aware just how far his intelligence ran and why they recommended him to you as a tutor, all’d shared a class with him at one point. nonetheless, come college, armin’d gravitated and became more close with connie and jean. and while he wasn’t as tight with the others as you were, it didn’t stop the rest from light teasing. never in front of him, only towards you.

you’d never felt your face so warm. “it’s cute,” mikasa had smirked at you one night while giving a slight nudge toward your shoulder with her own. “it . . works. can’t say ‘m too surprised.”

then january came — a new semester, new classes.

you aced your statistics course and what few classes you needed left to receive your degree were all quite simple. near the beginning, four meet ups with armin a week dwindled into three, and then two. you were busy with classes. he was busy with his thesis — it made sense. however, what became a week of not seeing one another, soon progressed into two without even texting one another. you don’t know how it happened, really, however, by april, you and him were basically . . . strangers once more.

it hurt. if you decide to be honest with yourself, it still hurts. you barely see him around campus, he’s hardly ever in the library anymore, and during, admittedly, desperate attempts to run into him at the cozy kettle you’re never successful because, according to dre, ‘ you just missed him ‘ or ‘ he hasn’t stopped by in a while. ‘

blond hair now sends a frigid chill down your spine. you smell a familiar cologne and the disconcerting sting of viscid tears boil the surface of your eyes. you wished you were able to just . . forget. redact his name from the fissures of your mind and bowdlerize the feeling his name evokes when you hear it from inside of your heart.

and mikasa knows you best. she knows you better than anybody, at times, even yourself.

you need to escape the prison of your dorm, go out, socialize, hopefully find a new person, even if just temporarily, to occupy your time and mind. and you agree. why not? jean has some yacht party he’s throwing. a farewell before spring break and, you like jean. he’s polite, he’s funny, he’s kind. you’re aware of what this can entail, however — jean being one of armin’s closest friends and all, there’s a high chance he could be attending and you think it’s this simple regard that has you tunneling yourself within the furthest pits of your closest to produce your most shortest and skimpiest two piece set.

berry blue, the top is to only be held up by a thin string tied at the back of your neck and another around the mid section of your back. the neckline follows more of a cowl style, however, cinches tight in the middle, accentuating your tits. the flowy excess fabric of the skirt skims the tops of your thighs, inches above your knees. it’s . . a lot. it’s . . just what you need.

everyone on the yacht appears to follow your lead, because you end up not being the only one to go for something so flimsy.

the ship pushes off from the dock when the sun is hung high within the sky — it’s thronged with people, lots you recognize from your classes, from bow to stern. on the upper deck are four, bass boosted, five foot surround sound speaker towers. they stand beside the dj who shouts at the crowd below on a mic. “this is fucking insane,” mikasa’s giggling behind a meticulously manicured hand. the two of you stand beside the main deck aft’s bar. she nurses a pink tinted drink within the other, however you can’t find the energy to remember the name. your eyes are shifting, from here to there, in search for one, tall, blue eyed, dimple cheeked, horribly handsome boy. “i think jean fuckin’ outdid himself with this one.”

“well,” you reach for her hand to bring her drink closer between you two. lowering your head, you wrap your lips around a thin, black straw and take a long sip. sweet, tart, bitter. “he’s graduating next month. might as well.”

“mmm, where have you been?” there are arms being draped along your shoulders before you can as much as so blink — heavy ones, buff ones. you have to feel a small smooch on your temple and the scruff of a beard to know who it is.

“reiner,” you whine and push back against him to let his arms fall. “my hair.”

with reiner comes eren, ymir, and historia.

the blond in front of you is shirtless. he wears nothing but black swim trunks, printed with a designer’s name all over in abstract. “i apologize,” he’s smirking and reaching a hand out to help you fix a curl out of place, albeit, is not surprised to get a quick swat on the knuckles within the same second of doing so. “got excited. haven’t seen you in like, three weeks, no?”

maybe you were more depressed than you’d thought. “i know,” involuntarily, you’re pouting. you’ve missed him too, you’ve missed them all. “been busy . . studying for finals and stuff.”

“mhm. been okay, right?” he’s concerned, tilting his head, waiting until you give him a sweet nod. “okay, good. need to make sure. you know my parents have been asking about you.”

you’re brightening up come the mention of them — how sweet the brauns are, you can’t help but smile. “really? what they say?”

“want you and everyone over for dinner again, especially you,” the golds of his eyes are slyly rolling. “some . . - something about your major. they like learning about it, hearing you talk about it. i don’t fuckin’ know.”

once the opportunity reveals itself, you’re pushing at one, tough, broad shoulder, “ugh, jealous much?” the brauns are sweet. his mother bakes the sweetest pumpkin pies and his dad is entertaining — has a thousand stories about his younger days working in the mines. you wouldn’t mind another dinner with them, not at all.

reiner entertains you for the time being, “mm, you can’t imagine how much.”

it’s nearly ten minutes of you chatting with reiner before you feel it — it’s a subconscious thing at first. there’s the sensation of a bug crawling across your shoulder. it startles you, nonetheless, without breaking eye contact with reiner, you quickly reach and rub it away. but, there it is again, this time, on your neck. you swat at it irritably, glossed lips pulling downwards into a frown. by the third time, you’re flinching and huffing, swiftly turning on your heels and holding your hair to one side to grant him a more extensive view, “can you check if there’s a bug on me, please?”

while reiner’s humming, eyes scanning your back, you look up, catching the familiar blues of someone’s across the ship.

unwittingly, your body pulls taut.

you’d wanted to see him first before he saw you, gather some conviction, some tenacity, be that as it may, it’s clear he’s been watching you for a while.

his eyes don’t hold the same kindliness as they once did. while they used to remind you of sweltering summers spent in palau, of fine sapphires and calm seas — from nearly forty feet away, you can view the hidden lividity that dances within them. calm seas are now raging waters. sapphires roast within an inferno. they’re set on you, unmoving, even while the bodies between you both shift and sway this way and that, he remains where he is. nevertheless of connie saying something to him, leaned in close to his ear so that he can hear, armin’s clearly not listening.

you snap your eyes away quickly.

turning back to reiner, you await for him to give you an all good before you’re slipping away, from everyone, and everything. you head to the bow of the boat. you’re pleading with the stars, begging for them to not have him follow you — you need to breathe for a moment, replay that meager interaction back a dozen times in your brain to dissect and figure out what’d just transpired. but, it’s clear the universe is out for blood today. you hear footsteps, they’re steady, firm — they make you walk faster.

there’s a teeth suck, an annoyed sigh.

he doesn’t say anything though, not until you’re both alone, at the front of the boat . . away from brain rattling music, loud laughter, loud splashes, and squeals. you take a seat within the sunken area meant for accommodation — arms folded, back straightened, you refuse to look at him.

armin plops himself down nearly three seats away from you and through your peripheral, you watch his head tilt back as he downs the rest of his drink. it falls back forward as he swallows and places the glass down on the floor between his feet. your knee is bouncing — you hadn’t even realized.

“i don’t . .” his voice is low, quiet. you try not to react to it — try so hard not to melt within his lap and sob. “i don’t think i . . really know what to say . . . where to begin.”

your response is simple, “mm.”

armin turns his head, fixing you with a stare of incredulity. he tries not to focus too much on your dolled up face . . how you’ve taken your braids out which now leaves tightly coiled curls resting a few inches past your shoulders — half of it is pulled into a ponytail with a small, pretty, glitter dusted scrunchie. he doesn’t want to focus too much on your attire — jesus fucking christ, just what were you doing?”. . . reiner?”

eventually, you look at him. your expression crosses a line between bewilderment and irritation, “what?” you mimic his same tone. whether it was done intentionally or not, armin doesn’t know but his own aggravation rises.

turning his face back forward, he then folds his arms and leans back within his seat, “would’ve thought eren was more your type,” he utters. “or . . fuckin’ jean, i don’t know.”

“what are you even talking about?” your tone is exasperated, you plop your face within your hand and shake your head, visibly annoyed. armin refuses to elaborate. the longer silence stretches, the angrier you become. “why . . do you even care?” your body’s straightening once more and again, you look at him. “like, what the hell is your problem, armin? seriously?”

his hair has gotten longer. it isn’t a drastic change, but . . still. and the earrings he wears are no longer white gold and round cut however, black, square cut diamonds. you weren’t supposed to look at him for so long. you find it hard to look away now. “don’t do that,” his face is screwing — morphing annoyance into a meld of discomfiture and vexation. “don’t sit here and . . .”

you remain mute, waiting for him to finish though he never does. he only tilts himself back forward and places his elbows on his thighs to reach up and comb a hand through his hair. his sigh is quiet. “. . i’m sorry,” he murmurs.

you hadn’t expected an apology, truthfully. it stupefies you.

you aren’t sure of what to say. to forgive or apologize, too. there’s no reason you need to do either, you suppose. he’s apologizing because he sees you, that’s all. he’s had your number for months now. he could have easily called, or even texted, albeit . . nothing. for nearly eight weeks, it’s been nothing from armin. complete radio silence. and now he’s here . . . it’s insane how bad you’ve wanted to see him for so long, although, now being within his presence, you want nothing more than to leave. “whatever.” you’re standing and beginning up the short flight of stairs to head back towards the stern, however, armin’s right behind you again. he intercepts your path, holding an arm out between you both to keep you from taking another step.

“i’m . .” he’s confused. “i’m sorry. i apologized.”

your folded arms acts more as a fence separating you and him, rather than an action to exhibit your huffiness, “good for you, armin. i don’t forgive you.”

he doesn’t seem surprised. “you don’t forgive me.” his voice is low — not a sad low, however, he’s contemplating . . studying you.

“i don’t. i want to go back to my friends.”

he’s motionless . . and he’s quiet. behind his specs, armin simply stares at you for a moment, tracing the shape of his lips slowly — the same way he always does when he’s evaluating or ruminating on something. you feel like a literal open book. it’s a feeling of excruciating bareness. “come with me.” grabbing hold of your hand, armin interlaces his fingers within the spaces of yours while leading you behind him. he walks swiftly — a step of his takes two of yours, and in no time, you’re stumbling after him, holding onto his forearm with your other hand. “armin — c-can you not?”

he’s leading you down to the dining space of the yacht. there are a few people dotted here and there — most of them using the space for shelter against a beaming sun. he ignores them, so you do, too. a short flight of stairs below the dining area opens into a short hallway concealed by a door. he opens it, turns right, opens another, then softly nudges you inside first. it’s a bedroom. it’s minimalistic — only a queen sized bed, a few pieces of art hung along the walls and a comfy sectional, however, still . . it’s quite nice. there are two, rectangular windows that over looks the right side of the yacht. the room sits about a foot or two below the sun deck it seems because you can see people below you.

“i find that people usually enjoy saying what and how they really feel when in an enclosed space. when alone outside, you’re never truly alone.”

armin stands beside the sectional, hands on his hips. it appears as though he’s waiting.

you remain rooted beside the window. “. . i have nothing to say.”

“no?”

you look back out towards the sea, “yeah, no.”

he’s walking over . . steps deliberate, quiet. you’re stiffening the closer he gets because you know what he wears. black swimming trunks, and a thin, black button down top — only a few of them were fastened near his sternum. when he’s directly behind you, you sense the warmth of the sun, still embedded within his skin, radiating off of it onto yours. he’s close, he’s very close, albeit, he isn’t touching you . . simply, crowds your space. “. . i’ve missed you.”

your head drops and your eyes close as you rub a temple. “you’re so mean. you’re being mean.”

“ ‘m sorry.”

“stop it, armin.”

“. . i’ll leave.”

when you feel the warmth of his body retreat, you’re turning, “why would you — . . stop it, armin,” before you can really realize it, your fists are balling, you’re stomping a foot, and you’re exploding, “why did you do that? you jus’ . . stopped talking to me, stopped . . dealing with me. who does that to a person? to a friend?” you’d started off strong — voice firm and adamant, however, it weakens near the end; leaves you quiet and feeble. “that’s not . . nice, armin. that’s mean. you’re mean. you can’t keep saying sorry if you don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

armin loathes this. he loathes what you make him feel. he sees the beginning of tears glisten your eyes and he’s walking over to take a seat on the bed and carefully pull you between his legs consequently leaving you to stand above him. albeit it’s only an inch or so separating your faces, it’s still good enough. he wants you to look at him. “i fucked up,” he admits quietly. “at first, i was busy . . i was just busy, ( ❤︎ ), honest.”

“and then what?”

you’re frowning again. armin crumbles underneath your stare. you don’t know what you do to him — what you continue to do. groaning out, he drops his head, “i just . . i can’t . . i couldn’t be around you.”

he feels you withdrawing. thoughtlessly, his hands are on your waist and he’s tugging you back, “i needed to focus,” he mumbles. “when i’m around you, i don’t focus. it’s very fucking hard for me to even concentrate on breathing when i’m with you. i didn’t . . want it to go like that. i just needed some time, but then, a week turned into two and by three i thought,” he rubs the back of his neck. “you’d be angry with me. i just, i never grew the balls to approach you head on until today. i’m sorry.”

he feels pathetic. utterly fucking pathetic. when it’s said out loud, he realizes just how much of a dick he truly is. he found himself thinking of you, every second of every day. it’d gotten to a point where he’d even dream of you — your smile, your lips, your touch. “i’m sorry,” he’s sighing and pulling you closer. “i shouldn’t have done it. forgive me.”

you’re not as tense as you once were. granted, you’re still refusing to touch him — you aren’t pulling away either. and with a ticking silence, armin admires his current position. you smell of brown sugar and patchouli, and you’re soft. he opens his legs wider, pulls you even closer. you sharply inhale comes his grip on you tightening. “armin,” your tone is hushed. he can’t help it. softly, he deposits a kiss upon your tummy, right above the gold bar of your dangling navel piercing. “i’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin. he engraves the apology within you alongside another kiss — this one upon the mole he’d always catch a peek of when you’d wear cute baby tees and cropped tops. it sits right upon your hip. “ ‘m sorry.”

he goes higher. kisses each of your bone of your ribs, your sternum. he feels you squirming, however, it isn’t away. you push into him — lean when he pulls away and tugs when he’s close. “let me show you.”

a hand skims down your thigh — it raises small bumps in its wake. you feel yourself trembling as he takes the back of your knee and makes you bend it to plant your foot upon the bed, slow and careful. “won’t happen again, i promise,” his eyes are fixated upon yours as he falls to the floor upon his knees. they don’t move, even as he kisses along your calf, pushing himself higher with each passing second.

your heart’s pounding. you let the small shoulder bag you wear fall off of your arm when he reaches for it and places upon a nightstand. tension cascades off of the walls of the room — slow and thick. you no longer hear the constant thump of bass outside, but each shallow, quivering breath he takes. it’s maddening how unhurried he is — you can tell he feels your frustration, because he smiles, dimples exposed. “you smell so fucking good,” he utters within the inside of your thigh, stunning you when he suddenly kisses a patch of skin there, nibbles, then draws it tight inside his mouth. it’s . . impressive — how quick he marks you. “all the time. everyday.”

higher he goes and the more you tremble.

his whisper is quiet, “stay still.”

majority of his face is now hidden beneath the chiffon of your skirt. you think you’re going to faint. there’s the sensation of a finger, one single finger, hooking within the crotch of your panties . . carefully pulling them aside. you whimper, suddenly apprehensive, “a-armin.”

“there we go.”

a couple more kisses against your thigh, then he’s pulling you closer. you’re a second away from bolting — leg twitching, eyes locked upon the door. your nails are pinching within your own knee as you go to move, right as you feel the warmth . . of something firm, wet, and long, touching your clit.

you dissolve — eyes closing, face melting, as he does it again with a wet pucker — he’s . . kissing it. slow and deliberate. “oh my,” you gulp when he does. “. . god.”

armin’s slow . . careful. he pays attention to your clit, beckoning the little, wet pearl inside of his mouth to sweetly suckle before snaking his tongue down to your hole to get a taste from the direct source. you’re sweet, salty . . akin to rose water. he breathes out through his nose — a sigh of gentle relief because you taste just as good as you look, just as he’d imagined for so many lonely nights, lying in bed, fist wrapped around his cock that’d drip with an obscene amount of pre cum and lube. “dreamt of this,” he mutters into your pussy, suddenly grabbing a handful of one soft, plush orb of your ass to bring you even closer. “sweet fuckin’ pussy — god, give it. give me it, baby.”

you weakly sob his name, reaching a trembling hand for his head. soothingly, your fingers scratch through, soft and cloying, as if you were afraid you’d hurt him, prior to you establishing a grip. “mhm.” he presses himself higher, opens wider, strokes his tongue along the canvas past your lips, no longer paying attention to one, sole place. your hips shyly buck when he pushes.

“oh, god,” you sigh and let your head fall backward, body liquefying within his hold. he feels so good. his tongue, his touch, it churns your mind into goo. “armin,” you mewl his name, sweet and quiet. “ ‘min it feels so g-good.”

you don’t know how long he’s waited. how long he’s envisioned himself between your legs . . you using his mouth for however long you needed, however long you wanted. he feels your hips beginning to move with more assuredness, rolling and rocking down onto his awaited tongue, and his cock plumpens. it solidifies, twitching against the muscle of his thigh. “unh,” your moans are riveting — cute and whiny. he never would’ve guessed that your voice would become so broken, so tender when you feel so good. “please,” you’re whimpering. suddenly you’re reaching for your skirt, pulling it up to reveal his face. his glasses are fogged near the bottom, pupils are blown. “ ‘min . .”

“i know,” he breathes. “i know you wanna cum, baby. i know.”

you feel a finger. it traces the puffy rim of your hole as the tip of his tongue plays with your clit. he only sinks it in when you whine of restlessness — he enjoys the teasing, the building pressure. watching your face, armin evaluates it and intently observes each expression. slack jaw, crease between the eyebrows, chest heaving — you feel good. that’s all he wants.

your body literally jerks when he presses his finger as far as it’ll go then hooks it. “oh god,” your balance nearly teeters. you start to move again, pushing back against his finger then back forward into his mouth. you’re delirious, inhibitions gone, worries left somewhere astray within the seas surrounding you both.

armin groans, glasses knocked a bit askew — he doesn’t care, “fuck m’mouth,” he whispers, warm breath panted into your cunt. “y-yeahhh, jus li’that — . . so good. good fuckin’ girl.”

it’s at this moment when you admit to yourself that he’s all you want. he’s all you ever need. these couple months without him have been hell. you don’t want to go another day, let alone another minute without belonging solely to him and him, you. you cum with a hiccupy cry. your hand wrenches within his hair, pulling and seizing as he forces you to ride it out with shaky pivots of your hips. armin’s tongue refuses to quit for a moment. he pushes it alongside his finger to gather your sticky release within the opening vent of his mouth and swallow. “mmm.” only moves when you pull yourself away, palpably overstimulated.

your foot falls to the floor and you stumble before quickly finding stabilization against the bed. you brace yourself against it . . and for a while, there aren’t anything but pants heard within the room. armin’s face is drenched. he wears your cum like a necklace — driblets cling to the curve of his chin hanging there for several moments, as if stubborn to let go, before they fall to the floor between his knees. you watch him lick his lips prior to using one, large hand to swipe against his mouth and groom him back clean. you think you hate him . . you do because it’s clear he isn’t satiated. you watch him take off his glasses . . watch him quietly clean them with the fabric of his shirt. “. . stop it.”

“stop what?”

his tone is serene. he doesn’t even look at you.

“this.”

when they’re no longer smeared with a damp fog, he places them back on and rises onto his feet, slow and careful. “. . . i’m gonna go now,” he gives you a smile. it’s . . shocking . . what you now know, how filthy you know that same mouth can get, however now only imparts you a warm, civil simper.

you watch him turn . . watch him head towards the door.

“please don’t.”

his sigh is heard. it’s long . . hard. you remain where you stand, hoping he feels what’s clear that you want. “i’m not . .” he scratches his head for a moment before turning back around. what now lies beneath his eyes is a thin layer of frenzy. “you know what you’re doing, right?” one step closer. “i’m not . . doing this with you, ( ❤︎ ). i’m not. i refuse to even encourage the mere thought of having something strictly platonic again, especially fucking casual with you. i did that,” he points to the area where you both just were. “to exhibit my regret. to express my forgiveness. there was some selfishness in there, yeah. i’ll admit that,” another step closer. he stands only a few inches apart from you now. “but, you want me to stay,” his voice softens, his eyes do too. “if i stay we both know what will happen. we’ll fuck and it’ll be good. and i can’t place myself in a position to intertwine myself within you, even further just for sex. i’m not—“

you’re quickly rising to your toes, placing your hand upon the back of his neck to lower his face down and connect your lips against his. it quiets him and he catches on quick. armin’s pulling you into his body, molding his lips within the soft seam of yours, pushing and pushing himself until your back is flushed against a wall and he surrounds you completely. in the distant part of his mind, he’s cursing at himself. this isn’t supposed to be happening, nonetheless, what is a human being without some indulgence here and there? he needs this. if he can’t have you, one hundred percent, pure, and refined you, then the least he can have is this — a memory of your lips. they’re plush and soft; imbued with the taste of cake batter.

“don’t leave,” you mewl, reaching for the buttons of his shirt. you’re undoing them, one by one, revealing the plane of his abdominal muscles, faintly carved.

your lips are moving, slipping down his jaw, to his neck. armin’s eyes close as he melts and ingrains his nails within the wall behind you. you feel so good. “i can’t,” he’s shivering when you nibble upon the soft lobe of his ear. his cock is dripping precum down his thigh. it’s a mess. “can’t b-be just friends . . with you.”

“then don’t,” your nails scraps against his chest. they’re sliding, lower and lower until they find the hem of his trunks. “i’ll be yours. jus’ yours,” when it slithers its way in, your fingers wrap around the thickness of his base. involuntarily, he bucks within your grasp. “i promise.”

he’s kissing you again — this instance with more vigor. you let him spin and guide you blindly to the bed while his tongue weaves its way around yours. hints of salt reside upon his tastebuds, hints of you. you hear his shoes being kicked away when you’re lied down and he’s on top of you. you want to do the same with your strappy heels . . alas, they’re buckles. “lemme see,” he’s breathing while lifting up on his knees, inducing you to give him your foot. “look so pretty. don’t think i told y’that today.” he’s unfastening your heels and letting them fall, eyes fixated on your little skirt and low plunging top. “i like you in blue.”

you’re smiling, suddenly timid, “really?”

“yeah,” he’s opening your legs wider to accommodate his build. “you look like a princess.”

says him. armin’s princely in all that he does — suave and smooth. the way he walks, talks, the way he peels off your skirt and tiny panties, followed by your top. you’re bare below him within a minute, leaving him atop of you, still in his trunks and opened shirt. “wow . .” you squirm underneath his gaze, blushing and meek. “be still,” he whispers, eyes tracing your bod . . focusing on a mole here, freckle there, a cute birthmark. “let me . . let me look at you.” you watch him raise a hand . . it pauses midair above your tit, as if hesitant, before he carefully cups it. “hm.”

you keen underneath his touch, watching his thumb carefully roll the brown, hardened nub of your nipple beneath it. he’s studying you again — eyebrows furrowed in a bit, completely focused. he brings his thumb to his mouth, quickly wets it, then places it back against your nipple, this time gently twisting and squeezing at it. “ah,” you hiccup and writhe, dreadfully sensitive.

his eyes meet yours as his brows raise, “want my . . want m’tongue instead?”

he doesn’t give you much room to answer. his head lowers and his hands are dimpling the fat of your breasts as he presses his fingers into the skin to establish a good grip. you watch his tongue lathe across the surface of your areola preceding him completely enveloping it within his mouth. he’s generous. licks and suckles, trades between both, giving them equal amounts of affection and care. your pussy leaks between your legs while he does so. from his bent head, you’re able to smell his shampoo — a woodsy milk. and it’s a hard reality to grasp for a while . . armin here, above you, solid hard cock pressed up against your thigh as he nurses on your tits as though he’d been starving without them. “touch me,” you’re gasping and pulling him closer, leading his other arm underneath you so that he’s able to take a second nice grasp of your ass. “mmm.” you conceive that he’s a dream. a simple beaut made just for you. that maybe you’ve gone crazy and this is how your brain is coping after having been driven to the point of delirium.

but then, armin’s moving. he’s kneeling to shrug off his shirt, then his trunks are removed and . . . “oh my god . .?” you lift onto your elbows, thoroughly stunned. you’d felt him when you slid your hands down his shorts — knew he had the thickness about the size of a coke bottle, but . . you hadn’t expected the length.

“what?” he’s clueless. eyes wide in . . some form of unease and apprehensiveness. “is it bad?”

“what, no . . it’s,” your head tilts and you . . blush. “pretty.”

he’s cut with a fat coral toned tip. stands at nearly eight inches, seven point five maybe . . equal in girth and length. there’s a trail of light brown hair below his belly button that stretches into a thin patch of it against his groin, nevertheless, his balls are bare. they’re chubby . . soft yet a little droopy. you would’ve never expected him to be so . . perfect below the waist, albeit, when regarding everything else about him, you suppose it checks out.

“d-do you have . .”

he catches on, “oh, yeah . . uhm,” he picks his shorts again, reaching into the pocket for a lilac packet. “alright.”

you watch him spit into his palm. he strokes it along his length a few times, face momentarily melting into one of ease before he’s ripping open the wrapper, and though it was quick, you try to imprint the picture of him jerking himself within your brain — his arm pumping, bicep flexing, facial muscles relaxing.

your clit thumps. you try to hold off on touching it while watching him carefully roll the condom upon his dick. “hurry,” you’re whiny . . impatient.

he’s whispering, “mm, don’t be a brat,” while crowding back in again though this time he remains standing. he pulls you closer towards the edge of the bed, closer towards him, then forces your legs up and holds one of them out of his way when he grabs the foundation of his cock. you watch him lift it then let it fall upon your chubby, little pussy with a hard smack. you feel the weight of it when he does — it’s leaden and dense . . heavy . . your heart is hammering.

armin smooths the underside between them for a moment, back and forth, lets you both admire the way your lips hug his length tight . . how your pussy begins to speak to him with shy little quips of wetness. “mm, fuck,” he puckers his lips, lets a foamy dribble of spit fall from between him, and with the tip of his cock, he pushes the blob inside of your cunt.

“o-oh!” you tense and pierce your nails in the skin of your thighs, forced to watch as his cock presses in . . inch by inch. it’s weighty, just as you’d thought. it sits within your womb akin to a dumbbell inside of foam, slowly but never halting . . sinking deeper and deeper. “g-god . . oh . . god.” your head falls back.

armin’s watching you . . mostly silent. if it weren’t for his expression, you wouldn’t have thought he felt anything, however, you read how his eyelids have fallen low into his eyes . . his loosened jaw, how his fingers press in deeper and deeper into your calf. when its fully sheathed, you both sit there for a moment, settling in the moment. “mm,” you feel yourself loosening. your eyes flutter open and you take a peek down to commend the picture of your cunt stretched open and full, gratefully taking all that he gives. “y’can . . move.”

“yeah?” armin’s breathless. he’s holding himself scarily still, awaiting the instant you give him a sweet nod.

you don’t think there’s a lot of . . talking after that. he pulls his hips back, leaves about half of him inside, pushes back, then pulls further out, loosening you up further. and you’re trying to keep your eyes open , because armin’s body is pretty. the slight abdominals of his torso flex with push of his cock inside . . and, god, his face is even prettier. and you’re trying not to be too loud, make too much noise because neither of you know who could be outside the door listening. but, disregarding your obvious efforts, both happen.

your eyes shut as you lose yourself in the sensation of being rocked forward and back . . of a hard, thick cock working your pussy nice and well. “oh my god,” you’re whimpering, curling your toes, helplessly wriggling. “oh, fuck . . armin . . a-armin.”

he groans come the sound of his name leaving your lips so beautifully, so melodically. “yeah,” he sighs, pressing your legs back further, leaning himself closer. “feel good? do i feel good, baby?”

it’s adorable how quick you nod. you reach for him, little paws scrambling for his shoulders to bring him nearer. the smacking of skin soon arrives — loud and rhythmic. it induces your eyes to roll back into the back of your skull, coupled with the waxy sound of his dick fucking your slick out of you, firm and steady. “u-ungh . . feels so . .” you feel a harsh sting behind your eyelids. “oh my . . god,” you collapse into tears, holding him tighter when he attempts to pull away. they’re inevitable. you hadn’t known you could feel so good. it frightens you, too. “n-no, keep going . . please. n-need . . your cock . . your cum—“

“—unh, shit,” armin’s gone. you’ve successfully pulled him in. “wan’my cum? how bad?” he’s picking up speed, pushing you further up the bed, no longer opting to stand but lay directly atop of you and pound your sweet, little pussy sore from up above. “how bad? tell me.”

you feel yourself creaming. it’s dripping down the puckered button of your ass, effectively spreading across the front of his balls. “s-so . .” you’re hiccuping. “bad. so fucking bad.”

he’s kissing you, swallowing your cries and keens into the pit of his stomach, “good girl,” he huffs into your mouth. “so f-fuckin good, you have no idea j-just how good you are.”

he fucks you with everything he has — until the bed begins to squeak underneath your conjoined weight and the door rattles on its hinges. how bad he’s wanted this . . for so long. he thinks about what you said, ‘ i’ll be yours. just yours. i promise, ‘ and a warm tremor wracks across the length of his body. that’s all he wants. you as his, him as yours, forever until the end of time itself. he looks down at you — at your bouncing tits, gloss smeared lips, pretty eyes, and decides you’re the only one he cares for to have in this position again. mind completely gone, drool and tears trickling across the berry toned blush and glitter that powders the high peaks of your cheeks. “take it,” he’s moaning, voice broken. he realizes he sounds warbly . . close to erupting into his own laments of raw emotion. “oh g-god, take your f-fuckin’ dick.”

he’s fucking you so hard . . no longer settling on speed but depth. plop . . plop . . plop. your legs find themselves thrown over his shoulders, your knees touching your ears. “ ‘m gonna cum,” you’re gasping, wriggling harder. “f-fuck . . y’gonna make m’cum.”

“yes,” one of his hands reaches down and he finds the tiny, slick nub of your clit to sweetly caress with precious halos. “ ‘ll take it . . you know i will. give it to me.”

you feel out of body. your mouth falls agape however no sound emerges. it’s nothing but the notes of his breathing, skin clapping, and the bed creaking until you’re suddenly releasing a slow, hard sob as you paint his cock white with a slow deluge of thick cream. armin groans laggard and low along with you, stroking you through it, never increasing or slowing his pace. you’re dizzy. you don’t even comprehend him moving until you find yourself now up top — ass against his thighs, chest pressed against his. he’s underneath you, gazing up at you with fondness glowing within the chasmal darkness of his distended pupils.

“y’so pretty,” he whispers, rocking his hips up slow and steady, successfully pushing his cock up into the squelching warmth of your cunt each time. “pussy feels so good. don’t want anyone else. i jus’ n-need you.” he’s spewing every thought that enters his mind. you can’t help but kiss him. your affection is his vitality. suddenly his arms are wrapped around you, tight, mimicking a hug. it’s a hold to keep you still and firm as he pace increases, sending you separating from his lips with a small squeak of surprise emitted. “oh god,” you’re gasping, holding onto the headboard for stability. “oh — yesyesyesyes.”

“all mine, right?” he’s asking, face painted in titillation. “ ‘s my pussy?”

“ ‘m yours,” you’re weeping and nodding when he does, brainlessly complying. “m’pussy’s yours. all y-yours.”

there’s a smack — a loud one. he swats it against the cheek of your ass and repeats the motion against the other. and then, armin loses himself. he focuses on that fat, wad of pure, undiluted pleasure, rolling through the lines of his veins, towards the base of his core. his eyes close, head tilts back, “awe, shit,” his pitch is rising the closer he gets. “ungh, unh, shit, pussy’s s-so f-fuckin good — shit . .” he feels your lips on his neck again, skimming, suckling, kissing. it’s a pressure point for him. he’s sensitive. “. . i’m gonna f-fuckin—“

suddenly you’re moving. you’re hurrying, climbing off of him, sliding down between his legs and pulling the condom off. armin watches you eyes wide, breathing labored . . and then, against all odds, you’re swallowing his cock into the channel of your throat. it’s so sudden, so unforeseen that when it happens, his cum is erupting from the crown of his cock before you both can even really expect it. “o-o-oh fuck,” he shudders, eyes rolling back, fingers pinching the messy sheets. you whimper, guzzling it all down happily. your hips even shift . . from side to side, as if you were an overeager pup with a wagging tail. you don’t move until you swallow. armin gives a small whimper, watching his dick pop free from the confinements of your lips. you’re softly smiling, planting a kiss against the tip, stroking your tongue tenderly against his balls.

he’s done for.

nonetheless, you’re happy . . so he’s happy. your smile is wide, eyes glisten, and he can’t help but mimic it as you come to a sweet curl and nuzzle upon his chest. there’s a kiss given to the crown of your head and one given upon the back of his hand. you’ve never felt more sated.

“mm,” he shuffles, brings you closer and kisses your lips. “. . what’re you doin’ for spring break?”

the question has to take a moment to enter and process within your still foggy mind. you’re quiet for a while, simply thinking. “. . i-i dunno,” you whisper. “nothing. you?”

he gives you one of his pretty, princely smiles, “wanna camp out on a strawberry farm?”

---

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭.: Joo Jaekyung x f! reader - 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 , 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: "𝐒𝐞𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐗…

...Don't you think that's strange?"

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 / 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark content ahead!, explicit content, dubcon, graphic content, dom/sub dynamics, power dynamics, HEAVY degradation, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, anal sex (hardcore anal btw), multiple rounds, Jaekyung putting it in every hole you have, creampie (anal), insults /nicknames (Doc, slut, whore, etc...)

𝐰.𝐜: 1,2k.

'I see you've made up your mind, doc...'

The husky voice came from behind your shoulder.

'...If that's the case, then hurry and strip to your underwear. Haven't got the whole night for this.'

He wanted to get it over with and frankly so did you. If you could skip to the moment he plows into you like a beast in heat you would. Your self-restraint slipped through your fingertips as you pulled your shirt over your head. As it did for seeing him undress and toss his luxurious bathrobe with no care. He pulled his boxers just low enough for his shaft to bounce free and towered over you with his erection in your face.

'suck.' He shamelessly pressed it against your lips, raven eyes locked with yours. And so you obeyed, taking him straight into your throat.

'See my size, hmm? oughtta get that throat nice and ready, miss doc.'

His girth stretched the corners of your mouth as soon as he pushed it in. The calloused hand grabbed your head and pulled it into his shaved pubes. You could feel his veins pulsing against your throat as his skilled fingers tugged on your locks.

Your chest instantly swelled at the lack of air, hearing him growl the deepest 'Mhh fuck! so fucking tight...'. He yanked your head back at once, almost making you throw up. the shiny strings of saliva still pulled your lips to his still throbbing tip.

'Not half bad, miss. But I ain't cumming in your mouth tonight.' He smirked, chest rising and falling as he tried his best to hold back .

His lips pursed together, spitting a load straight on your tongue and smearing it over your mouth before grabbing your jaw between his fingers with a maniac grimace on his face.

'If only Coach and the rest of the black team knew what our doc does in her free time...' He chuckled and smacked your cheek.

'If only they got to watch 'Miss perfect' slobber on this cock like a whore.'

His vile words jabbed at your pride, almost making your tears spill out, but you still had it in yourself to defy him.

'I'm not the one with the sex jinx...'

'Oh, got ourselves some attitude too, huh?'...

He slammed you down on the bed and sat on top of you, blocking your legs between his and forcing your jaw open.

'Don't try me. I'll fuck it right out of you, miss doc.'

You hated his attitude, or so you thought. Though your pussy clenching at his nasty words suggested otherwise. He flipped you over and pulled your underwear to the side, dragging his tip along painfully slow.

'Running your mouth while wetting your cunt senseless seems quite insencere of you...Don't ya think?' He teased and pressed it deeper against your entrance.

'B-But it's not like that! I'm just...'

A painful smack hit your ass, leaving the red imprint on your cheek. You cried out in pain and grabbed at his arm, your juices staining his perfume-fragant bedsheets.   

'Ah...Mr. Joo!, p-please stop..'

'Aww, got ya begging so fast already? slutty doc.' He lifted you over his lap and thrusted in, ripping the loudest scream from you.

'AH!' You threw your head against his chest in surprise.

He stood up and held your whole body in his arms, bouncing you up and down his length. You felt almost weightless in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and muffling your loud sobs into his neck.

'Mr Joo, s-slower...please!'

'Shush, And hold on tight. Your butt's gonna hurt a bit now...'

He pulled out and gave himself a few pumps before switching into your tiny butthole.

'Sir, wait! I've never-'

'God, get it together now, would ya?' Another spank electrifyed you, making your asscheek all red again. 'We still have a long night ahead of us!'

He hammered away at your stomach, The flush on his cheeks gaining a darker shade. The pain of his reckless thrusts toned down, yet his unmatched stamina had you chewing your poor lip.  

'Mmh who could've guessed? Miss doc's getting her ass pounded like a slut.' He grunted, 'you sure carry yourself different outside this room. hmm?'

His pace got faster as his fingers dug deeper into your poor thighs, panting and groaning against your damp skin.

'Aghh..even I couldn't tell how well you could take cock when I first met you.' You knew he was fucking you stupid when his bitter words flew over your head. your brain didn't really catch a sound. Your senses saturated with him filling you up, till your body almost collapsed under his much bigger frame. His fingers instantly caught you by your neck, pulling you back up to him.

'Arch that back properly! you keep fucking slipping.'

'Sir! when..d-do we get to rest..agh' You could barely articulate from his cock punching your g-spot. And he'd be lying if he said the view of you babbling your nonsense while gushing on his dick didn't drive him wilder.  

'Ever rode dick before?' He teased,

'Cause you'll be the one taking charge now.'

He layed down and folded his arms behind his head, smirking at you as he stopped moving inside.

'Your turn, miss therapist.'

You leaned forward, already feeling dizzy, palms holding tight onto his defined pecs. Then slowly rocked your hips with his, whimpering as your clit kissed his pelvis.

Your skin lit up with every touch of his own, almost as if his touch burned you. His grip on your thighs kept you from falling, yet you still felt lightheaded, almost like passing out. He grabbed your waist again and slammed you shut on his cock with a furious impatience.

'AHH, Fuck!' You mewled as you came on his stomach right away. The shockwaves rushing through your muscles had you crash down over his torso right away.

'Hey. I'm far from done here.'

He lifted you off his chest and placed you under him. And you whined in response, feeling him enter you again

'Get your shit together now. I ain't here to baby-sit!'

His pace got instantly erratic and so did his grunts. Driving you insane with his hands manhandling your back, spanking your ass, grabbing your waist, squeezing your hips and mercilessly tightening around your neck.

'F-uck, I cum inside by the way.' He grabbed you in a chokehold as he pumped his potent seed in your butthole, then grinned and pulled out slowly, whispering into the crook of your neck

'I just made you my cumdump. Congrats, Doc.' you tightened at the sound of his voice,  pushing his cum loads out your hole. He licked his lips in full pride, relishing at the sight of your seeping butt before pulling you to his chest again.

'Oh and just so you know, I never go less than 3 rounds on my matches' eve...'

Your body grew numb, and equally did your brain. Though you knew he had yet to satisfy his desire. You didn't know how much longer you had to go, nearing to pass out on his greedy lust. His rough touches spared no spot on your flesh, his powerful thighs slamming yours in the most feral ways...

-----

...You woke up to the mild sunrays, faint hints of his cologne bringing back the lewdest flashbacks he gave you. He was nowhere to be seen, only a large-sized towel left on side of the bed you believed he layed on.

You grabbed your phone as you slowly regained your senses, seeing a notification on your screen.

'𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞., 𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐭?'…

𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑?...

𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒.

---

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ☆ KINKTOBER 2023 ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

➸ DAY TEN: THE GAME.

ﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*･｡ﾟﾟ.*

summary: Eren hate everything about you - from your attitude to your friends and your clothes, he hates you. You make other's lives miserable, and he's determined to put you in your place with an innocent game which results in you having to do whatever he wants for the rest of the night.

CW: fem reader, smut, halloween party, costumes, drinking, beer pong, reader is a bitch like you are seriously unlikeable, like she's a bully & your typical mean girl, masturbation, men being men but only for a sec, reader has to do whatever Eren wants yet the sexual stuff is consensual, spanking, bondage, degrading, eren steals ur thong, public sex, semi-public sex, praise, blowjob, throat-fucking, slapping, choking, biting, humping/shoe-fucking, eren calls you 'princess', no use of y/n.

a/n: so we're a good while into november and i'm just posting my last kinktober post - oops. i've been so busy plus i wanted to wait cus idk if it's disrespectful to the dead to post smut about them (spoiler warning) like right after they died. anyway, i read a book or another fanfic w a similiar plot ages ago and it's been stuck in my head since but i can't rememeber what it's called lol.

word count: 13.7k - if you read this, ilysm.

masterlist.

Eren couldn’t stand you. He couldn’t stand the way you thought so highly of yourself or how you’d walk around with your head high and a disgusted look on your face when you saw someone like him. He couldn’t stand people you surround yourself with or how you managed to look so fucking good in every outfit you put on.

He could't stand the raging urge he felt to fuck the attitude right out off you.

On the other hand, you found yourself not looking twice in his direction unless it was to make a snide comment to your friends followed by a mocking laugh before you went on with your day not thinking about him for another second.

Eren, however, would think about that comment for the rest of the day. It didn't upset him, he was by no means offended by your comment. It just shocked him to an immeasurable amount that you were still this much of an impudent bitch in college. Surely you would have managed to grow up a bit after high school, right?

No. Not a single part of you had managed to catch a glimpse of the real world past the curtains of your life as a spoiled, popular, hot girl who thought there was nothing out there more important than money and looks.

In all fairness, both of those things had gotten you everything you had ever wanted, yet in effect, it ruined the lives of the people around you as you dragged them down to build yourself up.

That's why he came to this party, knowing fully well that you would be here. Tonight, he was determined to humble you - make you feel every fraction of hurt and shame you had forced onto other's your entire life.

Eren wasn't exactly popular, which is why he was shocked to have been invited to this party in the first place. He had his small group of friends and he was content with that. Mikasa and Armin were also skeptical of coming, confused as to why Eren was so persistent after he had spent all of his years in high school and the time you had spent together in college slandering your name and every other popular mother fucker - all of them were exactly like you, and all of them were at this party.

He had a slight feeling that it was due to Jean, the host of the party, and his blatant crush on Mikasa - yet she went wherever Eren went and they could always count on Armin to tag along as well, even if it took a lot of persuasion from Eren. Armin was confused why Eren was so persistent on coming, yet he let it go once Eren got defensive when he asked.

It was a halloween party, meaning there were all sorts of costumes to be seen from every corner. Of course, you were all adults now, so instead of anything actually scary there were mini-skirts and shirtless guys wherever his eyes fell. Eren didn’t want to dress up - in fact, he had forgotten completely as he was so focused on coming up with a plan that would land you right where he wanted you, therefore, he opted for a tight black shirt and some baggy pants.

Once his eyes caught yours, he scoffed. You were dressed entirely in black. A black corset decorated with beautiful patterns, a small black skirt (that could have passed as a belt but that didn't seem to bother you), black fishnets and boots that reached up past your knees. Of course, to finish the look, there was a pair of angel wings and a halo that adorned your head. A dark angel, not an uncommon look but considering you were the only one wearing it, it could have passed as that. The reason he had scoffed at the sight of you was because he assumed you must have threatened anyone going for the same look as you in order to assure you were different to everyone else - he couldn't think of you any more highly than that.

He mentally scolded himself for the way his eyes were dragging themselves all over the parts of your body that your costume didn’t cover - and there was a lot of it on display. Your costume left hardly anything to the imagination.

Eren could feel himself hardening in his pants just from the sight of you and he cursed himself internally for it. Why here and why now? Usually, just the thought of you would be enough to rile him up enough for him to get hard but tonight he swore he wouldn’t let his eyes or mind wander.

Quickly, he excused himself, leaving behind a confused Mikasa and Armin. The pair had exchanged glances since they had arrived due to Eren’s strange behaviour - but they chose not to bring it up.

The house was massive, and there were plenty of bathrooms, so nobody should mind if he occupied this one in particular for just long enough to take care of his problem.

His back hit the wall and he groaned in both pleasure and frustration once his hand reached to free his aching dick. He held his shirt up with his teeth and watched as his hand moved up and down his hardened cock.

His breath hitched when his thumb ran across the tip and he threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut in order to help prevent any more noises from leaving his throat.

Eren’s mind wandered to the sight of your thighs clad in those black fishnets and the way your skirt was so short he was certain that if you bent down just a little, he’d be able to take a peek at your ass from underneath. He wanted nothing more than to tear those angel wings right off you whilst whispering in your ear from behind about how much of a dirty slut you were and how there was no place in heaven for such a dirty thing like you all whilst fucking into you relentlessly to the point where you were too fucked-dumb to argue back.

The grip he had on his dick tightened and he shuddered at the feeling, his pace increasing as the sound of him fisting his cock rang throughout the bathroom. He was panting  and groaning, unable to hold himself back for much longer.

What sent him over the edge, was the thought of how well you’d take him because he knew that underneath all the layers of this vain and hateful version of yourself was a slut who was begging to get degraded and humiliated - even if you didn’t know it yet. He envisioned how tightly your cunt would squeeze him as though it was so desperate for his cock and how you’d whine and plead him to stop like a brat but you’d never use your safe word because at the end of the day, you needed him to fill you up. He pictured the cute face you’d make as you came all around his cock, screaming his name and dragging your nails down his back.

Eren wasn’t able to control himself for much longer before let out a strained groan and shot hot ropes of cum over his hand all whilst his grip on his cock never slowed or stopped for a second.

He had spent many nights in this situation - fisting his cock until he was all out of orgasms whilst picturing all the different positions he’d put you in and all the types of punishments you’d have to endure just to get a taste of his dick.

Tonight. He told himself. Tonight he will have all of that - he’ll have you begging for all of it.

Quickly, he cleaned himself up and opened the door, surprised to only find one person waiting who could barely hold himself up which saved him the embarrassment of having to walk out to find a crowd of people waiting.

He rejoined Mikasa and Armin, and began to wait for the perfect moment to put his plan in action.

You, however, were sitting in the living room on the armrest of one of the chairs with your other stuck up, self-obsessed friends, chatting shit about every person under the sun whilst simultaneously insulting each other as subtly as possible. 

You were sitting by Hitch, leaning against her whilst absentmindedly playing with a strand of her hair as she leaned back and sipped on her drink watching as the people around her tore each other and everyone else to bits.

Hitch had been your one and only true friend - the only one you could securely say you trusted with anything and the only person you would let see through your bitchy facade and the wall of hidden insecurities lying within. The only thing allowing you to act so cruel and heartless towards others was that very wall, the one that prevented people from getting close to you but also letting anything out that may subject you to the same remarks you throw around so casually. In the world of social status, it was kill or be killed - but in more of a metaphorical manner. 

Occasionally, you would chime into the slaughter of other people’s names and reputations, adding your own (exaggerated) experiences and opinions of other people’s lives. 

You stopped paying as much attention when the guys started talking disgustingly about which girls they were planning on fucking tonight - you simply turned to hitch and rolled your eyes to which she laughed. 

“How about her over there?” one of the guys asked, pointing in the direction of a brunette standing awkwardly on her own as she tried to drink her nerves away. It was quite clear she was listening in on the conversation, whether that was involuntarily or on purpose, and the very mention of her caused her to quickly glance at your group before turning her face away - burning a bright red colour whilst looking for a way to escape, yet she was unsuccessful and ended up staying put.

Luckily for her, you gave her her own way of escape.

“Her? No, she’s such a slut.” You said without hesitation because it was what you did. You had walked in on her making out with another guy in the bathroom a few months ago and of course you had to tell everybody about it. “I mean, she can’t keep it in her pants long enough to wait until she’s not in public to fuck her weird ass boyfriend.”

The people around you snickered and the girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. You were being purposefully loud, making extra sure that she could hear you and not feeling an ounce of guilt.

“I mean, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?” One of the girls sat across from you said.

You were used to other girls trying to throw passive aggressive comments in your direction, yet it would always end with them knocked out cold or with a broken nose so not many tried anymore - so her blatant rudeness threw you off a bit however you tried to keep your composure. You gave her a tight lipped smile and she stared at you with challenging eyes.

“Sorry, who are you?” you asked, clear malice sewn into your voice.

She laughed mockingly before replying. “Just someone who doesn’t sleep with every guy who gives her the time of day.”

Squeezing your empty cup, you scoffed and got up from your seat, clearly vexed by the comment made yet not quite drunk enough to start a fight just yet. 

What the fuck does she know? People thought of you as a self-obsessed whore, but in reality, only one of those things were true. You had only slept with two other guys, one being your long-term boyfriend and the other being a rebound after your break-up.

As you walked, Hitch called out to you, asking you where you were going and as you turned around to shout back, Eren could feel the excitement growing inside of him at the opportunity that had presented itself - the one he had been waiting for and imagining since the day he first saw you.

“I’m gonna grab another drink.” You shouted back to her over the music, she could barely hear you, but she nodded anyway.

Eren made his way to the path that you were taking and accidentally bumped into you.

Spinning around, you glared at him with nothing but anger and disgust. “Watch where you’re going, freak.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you attempted to walk off from him and make your way to the kitchen. Yet, Eren had other plans.

Swiftly, he grabbed your arm. His hold wasn’t painful, yet it was firm enough that you couldn’t escape it.

He wanted to laugh at the look on your face.

It was one that indicated that nobody like him, nobody beneath you, had ever stood up to you before. Nobody like him had grabbed you before. Your eyes were wide, and if he looked hard enough, he swore he would have been able to see steam coming out from your ears, yet his hold didn’t falter for a second. 

“What the fuck are you doing, perv? How fucking dare you-”

“I want you to apologise.” He started, and that look of amazement on your face only seemed to grow. For the first time in your life, you were utterly speechless.

“What?”

“It wasn’t my fault you bumped into me. You were the one who wasn’t watching where you were going.” His grip around you tightened slightly, causing your face to scrunch up before your lips parted in shock. “Therefore, I want you to apologise.”

Eren’s voice was low and calm, there wasn’t a hint of any pent up frustration hidden anywhere within it. In fact, he sounded like he didn’t know who you were, and to you, it looked like it as well.

After snapping out of your stupor, you let out a harsh laugh at his demand and jolted out of his hold, taking a few steps back. “You want me to apologise? Over my dead body. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

You started to recognise him from one of your classes but you refused to portray any sort of recognition in your voice or features, not wanting to inflate his ego any higher or make him feel any more special than he already does just from talking to you. Evan? Ernie?

“Someone who’s not gonna fucking bow down to you and fall to his knees begging for an apology, princess.” Every syllable was laced with sarcasm and there was a hint of resentment in his tone - the latter not being something you weren’t used to, there were plenty of people who hated you in silence because of envy though it wasn’t typically something you heard from guys.

“Are you asking to get your ass kicked, or what? Just because you won't do anything I ask, doesn’t mean there aren’t plenty of guys who won't.”

Eren looked down at you with a lazy smirk plastered on his face, and if you weren’t so pissed off at him, you would have been able to recognise the traces of malicious intent hidden behind the green of his eyes - like he was planning something.

And, fuck, was he planning something.

“Fine then,” his head motioned to the table setup with various cups filled with beer. “One game of beer pong. Loser apologises.”

He wasn’t an idiot - he knew you’d refuse to waste your time on a useless apology that you didn’t want all that much and he was the same. There’s no way he’d actually play you just for an apology.

“As if. I don’t want to waste any more time on you than I already have.”

Before you could walk off, Eren grabbed your arm once again.

“Okay… then the loser has to do whatever the other person wants for the rest of the night.”

As he expected, you stopped resisting. It pissed you off immensely that Eren wasn’t the type to just do whatever you wanted, and right now you wanted nothing more than for him to understand his place.

You paused in consideration. If you won, there wouldn’t be much of a difference. You didn’t need Eren to be in your corner all night waiting for your command, you had plenty of people who wouldn’t say no when you asked them to do something. The only thing you’d gain is more pride. If you lost, however, you’d have to do whatever Eren says and that would damage your reputation far past fixable. It would be social suicide and you’d never recover from the humiliation. But, you wouldn’t lose, right?

"Fine then," You started, eyeing him up and down as your tongue ran across your teeth. "Loser has to do whatever the winner wants for the rest of the night. Deal?"

The two of you shook on it, you making an exaggerated gesture of wiping your hand on your outfit after your hands separated just to remind him of how low he stood beneath you. Eren only let out a curt laugh as he rolled his eyes.

"Can't wait to make you my little bitch, Aaron."

A slight pause before he replied, "It's Eren."

Narrowing his eyes at you in utter disbelief, he tried to calm himself down, reminding himself that there would be plenty of opportunities for him to humiliate you later.

"Yeah... okay." You gave him a look that signified how little you cared. He simply brushed it off.

The two of you began to head towards the table, two people in the process of finishing up a game before you snapped at them to leave. Eren, on the other hand, had been pulled to the side by Mikasa and Armin, the latter scolding him for what he was about to do.

“If you lose, you’ll never live it down. If you win, her fucking minions will be on you like-”

“I know what I’m doing, just leave it.”

The two watched Eren as he turned his back, heading for the table where you were waiting with an impatient scowl on your face despite the fact you had only been waiting for about two minutes.

Mikasa tried to call out to him, yet her efforts were futile given the loud music that still boomed throughout the halls. Giving up, the pair looked at each other with concern etched into their features before reluctantly joining the crowd that had formed around the two of you.

You made a snappy comment along the lines of ‘getting this over and done with’ before Eren gestured for you to go first. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation as you threw the first shot, immediately getting it into one of the back cups and watched, unblinking, as Eren tossed the cup's contents down his throat like it was nothing.

This went on for a while - you'd successfully get the ball into one of his cups and then watch intently as he drank the beer inside. There was something about watching the way his throat would bop or how he’d wipe his mouth, his eyes on yours, and then tossing it to the side before taking a ball and throwing it effortlessly into one of your cups.

You hated how attractive he was and hated yourself for not being able to take your eyes off him.

Now, you had only three cups left, whereas he had four. You cursed yourself for missing the last time but it wasn’t your fault when you could feel his eyes burning holes through you whilst he shot you that same stupid smirk he kept giving you.

It wasn’t because you found it attractive, it just irritated you endlessly. There was no other logical explanation than irrational anger - that's what caused you to miss your last shot. So, as you watched him throw the ball and the way it danced around the rim of your cup before falling in, you promised yourself you wouldn’t miss these last shots.

The other times you had missed, he wasn’t smirking at you nor was he staring at you like he could see through your clothes - so it really was the only explanation.

As much as he liked to think he did, he didn’t make you nervous.

Taking the cup, you lifted it to your lips and swallowed back the beer, some of it dribbling down your chin and down your chest.

Eren refused to let himself react loudly, though, as he fought against how his hands were gripping onto the table and how his jaw was clenched. 

The two of you continued the game, Eren missing once, leaving the two of you with only one cup left.

It was Eren’s turn, but it didn’t matter whether or not he got this last one in as long as you could get your next in.

Your fingers tapped anxiously and impatiently against the table as he stretched out his turn for longer than he should have been - like he was purposefully trying to ensure you missed your next throw. 

Aiming the ball, he threw it perfectly in the cup causing your face to drop before immediately wiping the reaction off your face.

Running his tongue over his teeth, he looked up at you with a winning smile and a vicious look in his eyes. “Your turn, princess. You don’t wanna miss this one.” Eren drawled, standing back from the table and crossing his arms arrogantly. “Unless, you actually want to be my bitch for the rest of the night.”

The large group of people gathered around all of you snickered at his comment and waited for your response eagerly. 

“In your dreams, perv.” You snarled at him, taking the ball and aiming it carefully at the last cup. Taking a deep breath in, you threw the ball and hoped for the best.

Watching as it hit the rim of the cup and bounced straight back off, your eyes widened and your face filled with horror. Your hands fell to your sides and you stared blankly at the cup in defeat.

“Just one more go, I-”

Reaching for the ball that had betrayed you and had begun to roll to your side of the table, you were cut off by Eren placing his hand over yours as it rested on top of the ball. Your head snapped up to meet his in annoyance. Once again, he was looking down at you and you had never felt so small. Your heart stuttered, there was too much humour in his crooked smile for someone who had innocently proposed a game of beer pong.

“No. We made a deal.” He sounded so naturally calm and though his voice wasn’t gloating - his eyes certainly were. 

You wanted to cry but you wouldn’t allow yourself to. There was no way you’d toss away all of your pride tonight - you were already going to have to do anything he asked you to so you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

Dropping your head and releasing the grip you had on the ball, you pulled away from him and sighed in defeat. It pissed you off to no extent to lose in front of all these people, especially seeing as though Eren had made the terms of the game clear to everyone watching.

You couldn’t help but scold yourself for even accepting those terms - it benefitted you very little. Never did you think you would lose and have to follow Eren around like a dog all night and wait for him to give a command.

Folding your arms, you raised your head, deciding to at least pretend that your defeat hadn’t pissed you off endlessly. 

“So?” You asked, waiting for whatever embarrassing wish he had for you to fulfil.

“I want you to get on your knees and apologise.”

You felt the life drain from your face as your heart plummeted. As if the night couldn’t get any more humiliating, Eren was right there to remind you that it can and it will. Shaking your head, you swallowed nervously and replied. “No way. Not in front of all these people.”

“We had a deal, didn’t we? On your knees, princess.” He spat venomously. You looked up into his eyes with a silent pleading desperation and realised there was no negotiating when you noticed how lifeless and full of hatred his eyes were. It also hit you at that moment that he had been waiting for an opportunity like this for a while. Had he planned this entire thing?

Looking around, you felt a burning amount of rage flow through you as you bit your lip and sank to your knees.

“I’m sorry.” Your tone wasn’t short of seething anger and you kept your head down, not wanting to look at how proud he must be.

“Aw, c’mon, you can do better than that,” Your fingers grasped at the thin and short material of your skirt in frustration. “Look, you can sit here and apologise properly to get this over and done with, or we can be here all night - which is only more embarrassing for you, really. I mean, at least try to sound sorry.”

As much as you didn’t want to admit for the second time in two minutes, he was right, so you caved in.

“I’m sorry, Eren. I’m sorry I wasn’t watching where I was going and bumped into you and I’m sorry I said it was your fault. Also, I’m sorry for calling you a freak… and a perv,” Looking up at him, you stare intently into his eyes, like he was the only other person in the room. Your voice lowered to just over a whisper. “Please forgive me.”

Eren stood above you with his arms folded - his face now void of any emotion, not even a hint of pride or victory carved into his features as he looked down on you.

“Hm. I’ll think about it.”

How the fuck did he manage to annoy you more and more with every word that fell from his lips? He’ll think about it? What the fuck does he even mean by that? 

“You asked me to apologise, and I did. So just fucking forgive me.”

Eren crouched down to your level and took your chin in between his index finger and thumb before leaning over to whisper in your ear. “I’d watch what you say, princess. You don’t wanna get punished do you? I mean, how would all these people react once I tell them their perfect girl keeps pressing her legs together every time I look at her?”

He noticed that? No, scrap that - why the fuck did just the mention of getting punished cause that familiar throbbing in between your legs? And the way his breath was fanning your ear and how low his voice sounded as he spoke. What the fuck was he doing to you?

Pulling away, he gave you an expectant look and you shook your head - agreeing with him.

He stood up and motioned for you to follow him.

Fuck was this going to be a long night.

Within minutes of his victory, there were people crowding Eren and talking to him like they had been friends for years - like he wasn’t the type they’d make fun of behind his back. Like you hadn’t watched them.

You dragged your feet and followed him wherever he went, occasionally going to fetch him or his new-found friends another drink whenever he asked you to. 

He wasn’t talking to you much, and you were grateful for that. He didn’t gloat or brag about his victory, he simply gave you a demanding look and gave you a task to do. 

Despite this, he was constantly looking over at you. His eyes would wander down your body just like they had done when you bumped into him and like they were when you were playing beer pong. His eyes would burn holes into your skin before he would lick his lips and turn back around to rejoin the conversation he had temporarily removed himself from. You assumed he was simply trying to make sure you hadn’t ran off.

The thought had crossed your mind a few times. You could run off and save your reputation, but you were getting an odd sort of pleasure from the way he was ordering you around, laughing at you and thinking of new ways he could humiliate you in front of everyone.

Him not speaking to you, however, also gave you the time to properly look at him as well. You were right previously, he was in one of your classes. He sat at the back, typically staring out the window or twirling his pen. You don’t know how you never really paid any attention to him before because there was something about him that was so… attractive. 

Eren had a quiet, brooding look about him that would generally scare other people - or at least earn him a few weird looks.

Not tonight, however. His typical chilling look was embraced given the fact it was halloween and it made you seethe with anger at his blatant hypocrisy after he had made his distaste of you due to your popularity so apparent all whilst soaking in the amount of attention he was getting instead of you.

You were outraged that you were having to stoop down to his level and embarrass yourself in front of everyone. Yet, for some reason, you weren’t able to prevent the throbbing feeling between your legs when he was looking down at you and commanding you to do something else he could have done easily on his own.

You were glaring at him when he suddenly decided to excuse himself from the group he was with and called you to follow him. Cursing under your breath, you hurried after him with an annoyed look plastered onto your face.

“What's wrong with you?” He did nothing to hide his mocking tone or the humour he found in your situation.

“I have no clue what you’re on about. I just fucking love following you around like a dog and doing whatever you want.” You snapped, crossing your arms and furrowing your brows.

“Well that's good, considering you’ll be doing it for the rest of the night.”

There was a ringing in your ear and you wanted nothing more than to take a hammer and smash every single speaker that echoed the beat of the music throughout the cramped halls. Every brush of someone walking past you was making you incredibly frustrated and you felt so close to lashing out at someone - preferably Eren.

“You’re an asshole.”

Within seconds, you were pulled into an empty corner and pushed against the wall. Eren had one of his hands on your hip and the other had a deathly grip on your chin. 

“And you’re a pathetic slut who’s been staring at me the entire night with those stupid ‘fuck me’ eyes and pressing her legs together because it’s all the action she’ll be getting for a while after this.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest because of his bold accusations, and despite this, you could feel yourself growing hotter. Your skin became more sensitive and was tingling at every touch and where his hand was touching gently on your hip it felt like you were burning.

You were holding your breath - hardly able to speak or think of a comeback until you remembered how he had been eyeing you the entire time as well.

“Oh yeah? Haven’t you been eye-fucking me this entire night? If you play your cards right, I might let you fuck me?”

Eren pulled back slightly and barked out a laugh at your response as though it was the funniest thing in the world which only irritated you more, though you refused to show it.

Subtly, he slipped his leg in between yours and pushed them away slightly, creating room for him to press his thigh up against your clothed pussy and giving you a taste of the pleasure he could bring you just by simply moving his thigh to rest between your legs. Though, he knew what he was doing as he moved his leg slightly resulting in him grinding his leg against your clit causing you to whine softly.

“Let me? Princess, you really have no idea who’s in control, don’t you? If I feel like fucking you, I will, and you’re gonna take it like a good girl, aren’t you? Because, you’ve been so good to me the entire night, you don’t want to spoil it, do you? I mean, sure, you can’t take a single order without a complaint or any back talk, but you’re getting there. You’re a spoiled little thing, but one that I can shape easily into a perfect little slut.”

The way he was talking about you and degrading you would have usually had you slapping him in the face and walking off immediately. But the way his insults rolled off his tongue so naturally was so appealing and had the control that you were so desperately trying to grasp at, falling from your fingers even further than before. 

That’s what you needed. Control.

“You’re right, Eren,” biting your lip, you took one of your fingers and slid it down his shirt and across his stomach. You felt like gasping when you could feel his figure through the tight material of the shirt yet you decided to remain silent. “I’ve been so good to you. Don’t you think I deserve a reward?”

Control was something that was very short-lived when you were faced with someone like Eren. Someone who could so easily snatch it up from underneath your nose and wave it obnoxiously in your face.

“For what, hm? Doing as you’re told? That’s what I fucking expect from you. No, you’ll get a reward when you impress me. Like I said, you can’t even get through a single task without a complaint. What’s so difficult about grabbing a couple of drinks?”

“You won’t let me have one.” You retorted, a pout settling on your face. The first time he had told you to get him a drink, you had got one for yourself as well - a way to calm your nerves and help you through this dreadful night. Immediately, he had taken your drink away from you and drank it right in front of your face as you stood there and watched dumb-founded.

He had told you that you weren’t allowed another drink unless he permitted you to and you blew up in his face about how unfair it was and called him a variety of creative insults.

Eren was ensuring that you were sober enough to feel the humiliation of your situation but also that you were in the right state of mind for when he inevitably fucks you tonight.

“That’s right, I won’t. You’ll understand why soon.”

Eren removed himself away from you completely and went on about his night like that interaction hadn’t left him as flustered and yet simultaneously annoyed as you were. 

He walked into the same living room you had started your night in. There was a different group of people in there, yet immediately, as if he was famous, someone offered their seat to Eren and two girls sat themselves next to him.

There was a panging feeling of jealousy hovering within you as you watched them touch his arms and laugh unnecessarily loud at one of his jokes.

He had just been flirting with you and yet somehow, he had easily moved on to the two girls he saw next whilst asking them if they wanted a drink because he knew just the person to fetch them.

You stormed off to the kitchen, pissed off at how he seemed to be enjoying the company of those two other girls far more than your own. 

But why? They wouldn’t be able to handle him like you could. If he was finding pleasure in ordering you about and forcing you to humiliate yourself, all whilst grinding his thigh against you in a place where anyone could have walked past, who knew what other kinky shit he was into?

There was a sense of desperation that hung over you. You wanted him to notice you, you wanted to get his attention so badly, you wanted to show him just how much of a slut you could be for him.

There was no way he’d even look in the direction of another woman after tonight, you swore it.

Bending down, you placed their drinks on the table, flashing him your black, lacy thong in the process yet not caring because you took pleasure in showing off knowing the people behind him could see as well.

“That’s a nice thong you’re wearing.” He stated blandly. You turned around to look down at him, sitting so carelessly on the sofa with his arms draped around two other girls. 

For some reason, this frustrated you to no extent. You wanted to believe that it was because of how annoying it was that he could pretend like he couldn’t care less about you. But, in reality, you wanted nothing but his attention on you. You didn’t want him to be touching other girls - that was the reason you had flashed him your thong as well, in hopes that he would catch a glimpse of what he was missing.

You grinned when he noticed the fact that he had been staring so shamelessly at your clothed pussy, letting you know that he did want you and not them.

What he said afterwards, took you aback. The grin on your face immediately being wiped away from existence - no trace of it to be seen.

“Give it to me.”

Your mouth was agape and there was nothing but disgust plastered all over your face before you quickly covered it up with your typical look of nonchalance. 

The people surrounding you whistled, still invested in the ongoing dare and what would turn out to be your inevitable downfall. There was still a sizable crowd amongst the dozens of other people pretending to be minding their own businesses. People you had known for years, people you had made fun of and chat shit about were relishing blatantly at your humiliation.

There was only one thing that you could do, and that was pretend to be as unaffected by the situation as possible. So, without another second of hesitation, you reached up underneath your skirt and pulled down your thong slowly as your eyes remained locked on Eren’s, both of your faces portraying zero emotion.

As you pulled your thong down your legs, you felt shame as your arousal clinged to it desperately and you knew that the minute you handed the fabric to him, he’d be able to see a glistening wetness. Your pussy had betrayed you, and now he was going to know exactly how you were responding to his degrading demands and humiliation.

Like he didn’t already know.

Still, you kept your face expressionless as though you weren’t ashamed and cringing and dying a little bit inside.

At the end of the day, there were still crowds of people around you, howling and praising your name for being so bold and hot.

Someone had to be reminding them of what they wanted but couldn’t have - yet there was a part inside of you that was worried the boys would begin to think of you as some common whore who’d have sex with anyone - including them.

You only had room for one worry at the moment, and at least they still somewhat respected you, even if it was just for now.

You twirled the small, black fabric around your finger with an alluring smirk on your face. “Are these what you want, Eren? You’re nothing but a perv.” You said, bending down to shove the panties against his chest before quickly standing back up again and sitting down on one of the other chairs, not wanting to be around him as much as you had to.

He held your thong in his hand and you stared at him in wait. He had immediately noticed the wet patch, and you were waiting patiently for him to announce it to the entire room, giving him a look of false encouragement by raising your eyebrows expectantly - but that moment never came. He simply stared back at you and winked, like it was your own little secret and you thanked him mentally for it as you let out a breath of relief.

Eren didn’t even try to hide how he shoved your thong into his pocket as he called out your name.

You rolled your eyes. Again? Could he not let you have just one break?

“Come and sit over here so I can keep my eye on you.” The girls beside him giggled and you wanted nothing more than to scream in the faces and rip their heads off but thankfully, you refrained. “Right in front of me, on your knees.”

Once again, you complied to his request, standing up and walking over to kneel down right in front of him, shooting him a look that said ‘are you happy, now?’ to which he just smirked and went back to talking to those two other girls.

He should have been the one on his knees. He should be on his knees, thanking you for giving him the time of day that he needed in order to get those girls’ attention. Before you, he was absolutely nothing - not a single girl on his shoulder. Now, because of you, he had two of them and yet it was you that was on your knees.

Without your thong, you felt exposed and anxious that soon you’d be able to feel your arousal dripping down your legs or that someone would be able to see your dripping pussy.

Your mind was spinning, so much so you couldn’t feel Eren’s hard eyes on you as the two girls he was with continued to speak to him like he was paying them any attention. He could see the way your eyes were moving around frantically, the way your legs were pressed together so tightly as you lay your hands in your lap and fidgeted with your fingers. He was concentrating so heavily on you that even over the sounds of chatter and music, he swore he could hear the change in pace of your breathing. 

Suddenly, your eyes connected with his. You were taken aback to find that he was already looking at you and if it embarrassed him that you caught him, his face didn’t show it. Neither of you broke the eye contact you held for a while, both too stubborn to be the first to lose. Instead, you just stood up and brushed your skirt down - claiming you needed to go to the bathroom.

His eyes narrowed at you suspiciously and you walked off as soon as you saw his lips part to respond, knowing it would only displease him.

You started pushing through the crowds of people, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs and the way your skin felt hot with embarrassment at the idea of someone seeing. 

For some reason, you had only gotten more wet when you saw how Eren was staring at you and how he didn’t take his eyes off you even when you caught him. 

There were slight murmurs of your name followed by mocking laughs as you made your way to the bathroom but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care - the only thing on your mind was Eren.

You were so close, mere steps away from reaching the door handle and behind able to relieve yourself when all of a sudden you were being spun around and dragged away causing you to curse whoever was preventing you from relieving yourself from your torment. And of course, who else would it be apart from Eren?

You stared at his back as he walked with your wrist in his hand and you could tell he was pissed off at you - just from his grip and the way that he was walking alone.

The two of you stopped in the corner of a very compact area, there were people everywhere but that didn’t stop Eren from trapping you. Luckily enough, the people around you were either far too high or drunk to pay the two of you much attention as they messily grinded on one another and blew smoke around the room.

Eren forced your head to look in his direction by taking your face in his hand roughly.

There was a scowl adorned on his lips, yet, replacing the usual emptiness within his eyes was a spark that you hadn’t seen before and it made you question whether he had something planned.

His arm was caging you in and he peered down at you menacingly. “Care to explain?”

“I already told you.” you said, the corner the two of you were in was relatively quiet for a party so you hardly had to shout. There was also the fact you didn’t want to draw any attention to yourselves because you were already in a compromising position in front of all these people, you were just relieved they were too intoxicated to fully comprehend what was going on in the corner of their eyes. “I was going to the bathroom. Before you stopped me, that is. By the way, I’m blaming you if I piss myself in front of all these people.”

Whilst Eren may have let out a laugh, it was one that was devoid of any humour or enjoyment. He lowered his head and shook it slowly whilst he laughed and his grip on your chin with the hand that wasn’t confining you strengthened. “That’s funny because I don’t remember letting you.”

“And I don’t remember needing your permission.” You retorted, growing more vexed with every second that passed yet at the same time that throbbing feeling in between your legs came back as you stared at him intently, gauging his reaction. 

He dropped his hand from your face and lowered it down to your neck to which you instinctively gave him access by raising your chin. “We made a deal, didn’t we?” 

When you didn’t answer him, his clutch on your throat grew more intense causing your mouth to drop open in a mix of pain and pleasure. “Didn’t we?” Eren repeated.

“Y-yes, Eren.” Your voice was less than a whisper, too afraid you’d say the wrong thing. However, you appeared to have pleased him at least a bit as his grip loosened ever so slightly at your response making you sigh in relief.

“Good girl. Now tell me, did you actually need the bathroom? Or…” The hand on your throat once again left its place and made its way down your body and towards the space in between your legs and a single finger wiped some of the slick from your pussy earning a sigh from you as you let your head rest against the wall. Immediately, his hand was removed from your pussy and he brought it up to the space in between the two of you as he examined his finger carefully. His eyes were glued to how wet you were before they locked on yours. “...did you need to fix this little problem, hm?”

Your voice was failing you as you spewed out pathetic stutters of what was supposed to be denial of his accusation yet you both already knew the answer. In fact, he was only asking you to embarrass you. This entire thing, his only goal, was to crush you and leave you mortified - not even recognising yourself anymore. Still, you attempted to deny it nevertheless.

“No! Wh- why the fuck would I- I swear I just needed to go to the bathroom.” It couldn't have been less believable if you tried.

The fact that you even thought of lying to him was enough of a reason for him to punish you - in his eyes, anyway.

“Liar.” He spits, and his hand instantly goes back up to your throat as a way of letting you know that you had upset him. “Fine then. If you want to cum so badly, then touch yourself. Right here, right now. I want you to touch yourself.”

Your eyes went wide like you had seen a ghost, but in reality, this was much more shocking. Was he being serious? There’s no way he actually wanted you to touch yourself when there were so many people around, any of which could look in your direction and see the sinful act you would be committing.

That spark in his eyes. The same one you had noticed immediately once he turned to face you, it told you everything you needed to know.

He was really telling you to touch yourself. 

“What?” you exclaimed. Yet, you couldn’t lie, just the idea of any one of these people turning around to see your fingers plunged deep inside of you really turned you on.

“They won’t see you, not with me blocking you.” he reasoned, taking a step closer and further minimising the gap in between the two of you. 

“Still, Eren, that’s fucking crazy. There’s no way I’m doing that!” But, oh, you wanted to. Whilst your words were disapproving, you couldn’t help but think about how good it would feel to touch yourself in that moment, your clit was aching and begging for attention as a result of your neglect and your hole was desperate to be filled but no matter what, it was unreasonable to suggest doing something so vile.

Eren simply tutted at your resistance and shook his head like you were a child and he was inevitably going to get what he wanted no matter how many times you objected.

“The thing is, you’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you? You could have left ages ago, but you didn’t. So there’s no point in arguing when we both know you’re going to end up giving in - not because I want you to, but because you want to. Try and hide it all you want, I know what I’ve seen.”

You swallowed nervously and looked around to see if anybody was watching the two of you. Still, you stayed motionless, scared of the consequences yet knowing that nobody would see you with Eren blocking you from anybody’s line of sight.

“What is it then, hm?” He asked with a fake tone of comfort. “Do you need me to help you?”

The feeling of his hand wandering down your bare arm before taking your hand in his own sent shivers throughout your entire body. You didn’t resist his movements, truthfully, you welcomed them. He moved your hand to the space in between your legs and used it to caress the inside of your thighs before your hand reached your soaking cunt.

“Don’t make me do all the work, princess.” 

It was like you were starting to act based on just his words and his voice. You found yourself wanting nothing more than him, wanting nothing more than to please him so that maybe he’ll fuck you.

You slipped your fingers inside of you and bit your lip to hold back any noises you wanted to make. Your fingers started slowly moving in and out inside of you and Eren drew back his hand and placed both of them on your hips, using his body to shield your own from any prying eyes. 

“That’s a good girl, so obedient.”

A quiet noise slipped from your throat and Eren hushed you soothingly as his thumbs caressed your hips.

Your fingers began to speed up and curled slightly in order to reach that spot that you knew would bring you close to the edge. Taking your thumb, you started rubbing steady circles on your clit and because of the added stimulation, it didn’t take long until your fingers were thrusting themselves continuously in and out of your soaking pussy whilst your thumb’s motions picked up the pace. 

“Tell me when you’re about to cum, okay?” You nodded in response, not thinking twice about it.

You used your other hand to cover your mouth and stop yourself from drawing any attention in your direction.

Eren’s lips found themselves on your neck, leaving gentle pecks up the side of it. His kisses were light as a feather and fleeting - gone and moving to another spot before you could truly appreciate his lips.

“Eren, I-” you began, your voice muffled due to your hand being placed over your mouth.

“Speak clearly, princess. I can’t hear you.” His voice vibrated over your neck and you whined louder than you should have done - your eyes instantly bulging out of their sockets as you looked around the room frantically to see if anyone heard and only let yourself breathe when you were certain nobody had.

“‘M gonna cum, Eren–”

Within seconds, Eren’s lips were off your neck and your hand had been dragged away from your aching pussy. You couldn’t even process what had happened because your mind was far too hazy, so you simply stared at Eren in disbelief.

You could feel your orgasm fading away and tears creeping up into your eyes. “W-what? Why did you- I don’t understand-”

“It wouldn’t be much of a punishment if I let you cum, would it?” 

He smoothed out your skirt for you in a fake gesture of kindness before walking off from you and shouted back for you to follow him.

You, on the other hand, needed a drink. So, you chose to walk in the opposite direction and instead towards the kitchen. Noticing this, he rolled his eyes and followed you instead. He called out your name several times but you paid him no attention as you took a cup and poured some alcohol into it before bringing it to your lips.

However, his hand stopped you before you could raise the cup and chug back its contents.

Eren removed the cup from your hand and placed it on the kitchen counter. “There’s a reason I don’t want you drinking alcohol and why I directly told you that you can’t have any.”

Still, you refused to listen and picked the cup back up against his wishes before taking a sip. 

“You’re acting like a brat.” Eren was clearly getting riled up, evident by the annoyance in his tone. “You seriously want to get punished again after the last time?”

Wiping your mouth, you considered his words, but the overwhelming feeling of vexation with him because of him denying you your orgasm overshadowed any reason or rationality, so instead, you simply shrugged and giggled to yourself a bit - feeling far too proud with yourself.

“Do you know how much fun it would be, how much pleasure it would bring me, if I was to tell everyone about that little wet patch I found on your thong, hm?”

You were fuming. How dare he threaten you? You couldn’t risk him telling anyone else. Just him knowing was embarrassing enough. 

Eren got closer to you, so close to the point where your chest was pressed up against his, and his head was mere inches from your own. You felt yourself growing hot, and that all too familiar feeling of need between your legs was prominent once again, just from the simple proximity between the two of you as though just him being close to you was far too much for you to handle.

“See, this bratty attitude of yours is gonna have to stop. Remember that you’re doing this willingly, and if I have to punish you again for acting like a brat then I won't hesitate to.” He cupped your cheek and spoke so softly, like he was complimenting you instead of scolding and threatening you with punishments. “So, are you going to be a good girl for me? Are you going to obey me like we agreed you would do?”

You were really started to hate him. You hated the way he spoke down to you like he was better than you. You hate the way that his threats and his insults and his words had this irreversible effect on you and caused you to press your legs together so pathetically like you couldn’t control yourself. You hated how you wanted nothing more than for him to make good on his words and just fuck you already. Mostly, you hated how much you didn’t hate it and you hated how you actually felt more inclined to misbehave than be good for him because even though it felt so good when he praised you, it also felt incredible when he punished you.

You looked inside your cup, checking out what was left of the drink - after seeing there wasn’t too much left, you took the cup and chucked everything inside of it at Eren before slamming it down on the kitchen island and tilting your head at him waiting for his reaction.

That, he hadn’t seen coming. He wasn’t expecting quick compliance out of you, but he assumed that after him preventing your orgasm you would at least show a little restraint. He had stumbled back a bit, shocked by your retaliation.

There was people surrounding the two of you now, vocalising their interest and edging Eren on to do something about it - he would, just not in front of them.

Lifting up his shirt, he wiped what had gotten on his face off before giving you a dead look and taking your arm in his hold and walking out of the kitchen. The people that were watching expectantly voiced their disappointment before going back to what they were doing.

You stumbled throughout the halls, people shooting the two of you odd looks as you followed him reluctantly - his grip on your arm merciless and all of a sudden you were actually aware of what you had just done. 

Eren opened the door to one of the many bedrooms and shoved you inside of it before swiftly shutting the door and locking it, his head hanging low whilst he faced the door and a brief silence fogging up the room, suffocating you.

You stood in the middle of the room, watching his back. You wanted to go up to him and apologise but you couldn’t find the courage to approach him. 

As he turned around, you noticed how his eyes looked dark and displeased, like you had really disappointed him this time and like it was his final straw in dealing with you. 

“You think that shit was cute, princess? ‘Cause I’m really not happy with you.”

“Look, Eren, I- I was just-”

The sound of his footsteps cut you off as he began walking over to you.

Without warning, he slapped your cheek causing the sound to reverberate around the room and the inevitable silence that stung your ears afterwards. You were no longer looking at him, your head tilted to the side and you resisted that prominent urge to press your legs together.

He cupped the cheek that he slapped and caressed it harshly. “Your safe word is red, do you understand.”

Giving him a clear nod, he took the initiative to pull you over to the bed that sat in the middle room before he took a seat and pulled you over his lap so that your ass was up in the air. He placed something on the bedside table, but you didn’t see what it was. Pulling up your skirt, he caressed the fat of your ass gently.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I was really starting to think that you were beginning to behave as well.”

The sound of a painful slap across your ass rang in your ears as you winced, gripping the sheets.

“I said I was sorry, Eren-”

“You think that’s fucking good enough?” Another slap, this time to your other cheek before he returned back to the other and slapped it a few more times. “You did a very bad thing, princess. I didn’t think you had it in you anymore after your last punishment but it turns out just edging you isn’t enough to help you learn.”

Eren’s palm slapped your ass with a sound that could be heard from the hallway if there wasn’t still music blasting throughout the halls. You sucked in a breath and your grip tightened on the bed’s covers as you waited for the next swat to come, and then the next and the one after that one as well - along with all the smacks that came after that.

Your skin was stinging and hot and it seemed like Eren was hell-bent on breaking you and peering through the cracks of your life with the sheer strength he was putting into every individual slap. 

And yet, for whatever sick and twisted reason that had derived from the most wicked parts of your mind, you were moaning and wriggling in his hold in a desperate attempt for friction against your aching cunt. You were finding pleasure in the pain he brought upon you no matter how much it stung and you wanted to cry.

You tried to squirm away as they got harder but it would always result in him somehow making the next harder than the last so you stopped trying.

“C’mon princess, take your punishment like a good little girl. You’re not leaving until you’ve learned your lesson so stay put.”

Letting out a low cry of pain, you tried to move your head up in an attempt to get away slightly yet he just brought his free hand to your head and held it down roughly. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve smacked all the sense out of you, princess? What did I just fucking say, huh?”

His words and his force - it was all far too much but equally just what you had been needing. There was something about letting go and not having the control that you so desperately yearned for that was so freeing - and now, with your head pinned and Eren ruthlessly smacking your ass, you had no choice but to submit to his cruelty and relish in the feeling of being used.

Slowly, he moved his hand to reach to the side of your face before tapping your lips in a way that asked for your permission to open up - to which, of course, you complied.

“Just a couple more, princess. Okay?” It had been a while by this point, your face was soaked with tears and your thighs were drenched in your own fluids. Your ass was red hot and growing hotter with every spank. “Just need you to tell me how sorry you are, otherwise I wont know if I can trust you to be good.”

Instantly, you replied - flooding his ears with sobbing pleas and continuous sorrys. He smirked and stopped his merciless attack on your ass before stroking the skin softly and affectionately. He lifted you up so that you sat on his lap and you winced slightly, resulting in a cunning grin forming on Eren’s lips.

You hadn’t been this wet all night, if Eren didn’t fuck you right now you thought you would lose your mind.

“Eren, I want you to fuck me.”

Raising an eyebrow at you, he sat you down next to him before standing up and looming over you - taking your cheek in his hand and forcing you to look up at him. “I don’t know about that.”

“I’ve waited all night, you can’t just-” 

“Yes I can.” He cut you off harshly and you stopped your sentence abruptly. He sighed like you were inconveniencing him. “I tell you what, if you beg me right now to fuck you - I will.”

You had already lost so much of your pride - you couldn’t lose anymore. He had gotten everything he wanted yet for some reason, after a single taste of greed, he wanted more. 

“I’m not going to beg you, Eren. You’ve gotten everything from me tonight - nobody is ever going to look at me the same again thanks to you. Isn’t that what you wanted? Now, you’ve ruined my reputation, the least you can do is fuck me hard enought that I forget about it.”

Eren’s features portrayed nothing other than irritation. He squeezed your chin tightly and you whimpered almost silently. “Who the fuck are you to be ordering me around? Either, you beg, or I leave. It’s entirely up to you, princess.”

You wanted it so bad. Nobody had ever made you feel the way Eren did. Nobody had ever crossed as many lines and tested you so much in a way that actually turned you on. He hadn’t even touched your pussy, yet you already know he know’s how to please it like he’d been fucking you for years.

But, at the end of the day, you couldn’t risk more than you had. You could spend the rest of your life daydreaming about how good Eren’s dick would feel pounding into you as you sat comfortably knowing you had manage to salvage whatever was left of your crumbling social status and build it back up again - or you could beg him to fuck you right now, and he would tell everyone about what a filthy slut you are who’s just desperate for his cock and your entire life would be in shambles. Who knows, maybe he wouldn’t even fuck you after you begged.

Taking your silence as an answer, Eren hums, before turning back around to unlock the door and reached for the handle.

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d fuck you, and the two of you would then go about the rest of your lives peacefully knowing you didn’t turn down what would be the best sex of your life.

You craved him - it was Eren that freed every single one of your deepest and darkest fantasies from their cage and let you fulfill them. You needed him to.

“Wait.”

You had moved so swiftly from your seat and now your hand was covering his on the door handle. He didn’t turn to face you, he just waited for you to speak.

The feeling of your hand dragging itself down his body snapped him out of his stubbornness and made him turn to see what you were doing - only to be met with the sight of you on your knees as you parted your lips to speak.

“Please, Eren. I need you so fucking badly, please, I need you to use me and slap me around and hurt me because it feels so good. Nobody’s made me feel this fucking good before and I don’t understand why but I need you to help me Eren because I can’t take it. I can’t take it anymore, I need you so badly it hurts. Please. Please make me feel good, Eren. Please.” Your voice was laced with a tone of pathetic desperation that made Eren’s dick twitch in his pants.

Turning around fully, he looked down at the sight of your hands clawing at his pants as you looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Show me.” Eren demanded, his voice somehow lower than ever.

Without thinking twice, you began to unbuckle his belt and tugged down his pants - freeing his cock that was growing harder and more distressed with every second.

Shit - he was big. Bigger than you thought. Of course, you could kind of feel him when he was pressed up against you earlier or when you were bent over his lap - but you hadn’t imagined it was this large. Eren was amused by how impressed you seemed, but chose not to express it.

You started off by stroking the length slowly and kissing the tip before taking it in your mouth.

Eren hissed at the contact, his hand immediately moving to rest on top of your head. Already, you can hardly get enough of the addictive taste of his dick against your tongue and the way it’s drooling with precum.

He’s gritting his teeth, trying to stop himself from making too much noise and boosting your ego.

Yet, when his spongy tip hits the back of your throat he can’t help the groan that slips from his lips whilst your own are sucking him so perfectly - your tongue expertly moving around his length.

You bob your head up and down somewhat slowly, his dick being simply too hard to adjust to so quickly. 

Your soft, warm tongue was stroking his dick so nicely it was driving him insane, and as much as he could do this forever - there was only so much time before people began to get kicked out of the house and told to go home, and whilst Eren had no idea what the time was, he’d hate himself forever if he let this opportunity slip past his fingers.

The longer he was waiting for you to pick up your pace and quit teasing, the more impatient he was growing. He knew damn well what your mouth was capable of, but apparently no matter how much you ran it and how big that mouth of yours could be - his dick was far too much for it.

Eren considered it a gesture of helpfulness when he grabbed the back of your head and started thrusting viciously in and out of your mouth - the tip bulling the back of your throat as you gagged and choked yet showed no sign of resistance.

Theres saliva travelling down your chin and your slobbering all over his cock - it’s all so messy but none of that is on your mind. The only thing you can think of is showing him how much you need him. He makes you so pathetic that you’re shocked the mean bitch you were just a couple of hours ago ever even existed.

So pathetic, that when he moves his foot directly underneath him, you can’t help the overwhelming urge to grind down on his boot. You knew it was risky, you knew that there was a chance it would displease him but you could never stop yourself from acting without thinking things through properly. However, realistically, how were you supposed to think about anything when he was fucking every thought right out of your brain. 

You hoped that he was so consumed by his own pleasure that he wouldn’t have a problem with it - or preferably, that he wouldn’t even notice. Nevertheless, you grinded yourself down against his boot and moaned - the sound muffled by his cock yet the vibrations caused him to groan and his grip on your head grew harder.

It felt so good, the way your hips were dragging your pussy against his boot and giving you the stimulation you had been needing the entire night.

Your hands are gripping at his thighs for some sense of stability as you try to balance yourself whilst he fucks your throat raw and without any regard for yourself - his balls hitting your chin.

Sounds of gurgling and sucking dominated the entire room. It was all so lewd, from the noises the two of you were making to the fact that your hair was becoming a mess and you were drooling dumbly.

“Fuck- you’re such a slut, aren’t you? Doing all of this just so you can get dicked down - so fucking pathetic. I should have expected it from you.”

There are hot tears streaming down your cheeks but you aren’t anywhere near upset. Your makeup is no longer in tact, mascara painting your cheeks.

You can feel all of your senses going practically numb as he fucks them all out of you. You’re struggling to breathe but you’re entirely okay with it - you can barely even moan properly and you can feel the way he’s silently mocking you for it as he continues his brutal pace in your mouth.

Eren is entirely consumed by the pleasure - letting it take over him completely as he mutters out curses and groans deeply whilst keeping a tight grip on your head. He’s losing his mind from the delicious feeling of your mouth taking him so well.

However, he pulls out, evidently not wanting to finish just yet and theres a spark of hope within you that it means he’s convinced and that he’s going to fuck you.

“Shit- that was fuckin’ amazing, princess. Gonna cum all down your throat, next time.”

Next time? Your eyes widened and your heart clenched in excitement at the prospect of there being a next time.

Eren tucks himself back into his pants, that spark of hope dying a bit. He walks over to the bedside table where he placed something before. When he carried it back over to you, you recognised that it was a bottle of beer.

“You want a drink, sweet girl?”

You looked up immediately, wiping the drool of your chin, to see him swirling around the beer in the bottle. “Please…”

Eren smirked in satisfaction as he kneeled down to your level and took your chin in his hand. You tried to reach up for the bottle, but he moved it out of your reach whilst tutting disappointedly.

“Open wide.”

He poured the liquid into your mouth from high above your head, resulting in only some of it going into your mouth as you eagerly took as much as you could while a fraction of it dribbled down your chin and spilled down your breasts. 

He took the bottle away and brought his thumb up to wipe away some of the beer on your chin before slipping it into his own mouth and winking at you.

As he looked down at you, he noticed a wet spot on one of his boots and he raised an eyebrow at you. Shamefully, you turned away.

“Fuck, princess, that fuckin’ desperate are we?” he laughed, yet you couldn’t see the humour in it and there was a slight pout on your lips which was soon wiped away.

That singular spark of hope from before sets ablaze once he picks you up and tosses you on the bed in an instant - removing your shoes and starting on your fishnets and skirt.

Flipping you over so that your back is to him, he rips the wings from your back. “Your no angel, princess, I’ll tell you that.”

You could feel his voice against your neck before he started to suck and bite your neck.

He lifted up your top over your head so that you were now bare in front of him.

His hands were roaming everywhere yet his lips stayed on your neck as he kissed and bit your neck in a possessive manner - as though he was letting the entire world that you belonged to someone - that you weren’t just a slut, you were Eren’s slut.

To your dismay, he stood up from the bed. You turned yourself over to see what he was doing only to find yourself confused when he was rummaging through whoever’s wardrobe it belonged to.

Closing the wardrobe door, he turned to face you with a tie in his hand. Biting your lip, you tilted your head up at him in surprise. Laughing, you asked, “You really gonna tie me up with some stranger’s tie and then fuck me in their bed? And I’m the dirty slut.”

Eren laughed along with you, kneeling in front of you on the bed and forcing you to backup towards the headboard. “They won’t know.”

Taking your hands in a delicate grip, he tied them both together to the metal headboard. The knot was tight, so tight you figured you’d have a lot of trouble ever trying to get out of them without Eren’s help.

His lips hovered over yours for the first time before he pressed them together and plunged his tongue into your mouth - kissing you roughly.

He tasted incredible and his lips were so soft. For the first time, he was being properly gentle with you and he had no clue why.

This entire thing began as a revenge fantasy, so why was he all of a sudden feeling the need to handle you like you were glass. 

One of his hands slipped between your legs and began to play with your soaking pussy. “Shit, princess. So wet.” 

“I need you now, Eren.” You muttered against his lips, snapping him out of whatever daze your lips had put him in.

Bringing his hand back up, he quickly sucked the wetness from your pussy off his fingers and almost groaned at the taste.

Now, he was eager to be inside of you - longing for the feeling of your wet walls hugging his dick so tightly like he knew they would.

“Shit, princess. You think you can take me?” He mocked, a huge smirk plastered on his face and though typically you would have wanted to smack it right off, in that moment, all you could do was whine as you bucked your hips up needily.

He was practically folding your legs like a chair. Both of them rested on his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss your lips before pushing his rock hard cock inside of you. In sync, the two of you moaned at the sensation - and thought that initial pain from the stretch was apparent, so was the feeling of every single one of his veins and the slight curve of his dick.

Once he was fully in, he let you adjust for a moment as the two of you stayed in silence. Eren continued marking your throat as a form of restraining himself from pounding into you ferociously. 

Gradually, he started to slowly move in and out of you - and soon enough his cock was brutally hitting that spot within you that had you gasping and seeing stars.

His lips trailed down to your chest and took one of your nipples into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it as he pistoned his cock into your throbbing cunt.

He was fucking you so roughly that all you could do was lay there and moan loudly - completely unaware of anything other than how his dick was making you feel.

Eren was mesmorised by the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tightly and deciding that he needed to see it. Removing his mouth from your nipple, he sat up and used his hands to keep both of your legs up as he watched the way your pussy hugged him so tightly, refusing to let him go.

“Should have know that all it would take was a bit of dick to get you this obedient and good. A bitch like you just needs some dick to put her in her place, ain’t that right, princess?”

His words were hardly registering in your mind, but just the sound of his voice had you whining and your pussy tightening around his dick, desperate for more.

You could feel every inch of his dick pounding into you and dragging ruthlessly against your walls, causing you to gasp and choke on your own moans.

With all of your effort, you took a deep breath before sputtering out a request. “Wanna- t-touch you, ‘ren, please-!”

He paused his bruising thrusts, and with such a speed you had never seen before undid the knot of the tie without any questions - he simply just did as you had asked like he needed you to touch him as well before going back to pummeling his cock in and out of you.

Your hands went to grasp at his back, clawing at the flesh in an attempt to seize some sort of control. Your fingernails were leaving scratched in their places as they dragged down his back which only had Eren groaning at the painful feeling as he picked up his pace and somehow went impossibly faster and more rough.

“Such a whore, and all for me as well. Nobody else gets to see you like this, not anymore. You’re all mine now, princess. Do you hear me?”

You nodded frantically in response, unable to form any coherent words other than curses and chants of his name. 

The idea of being just his brought you so close to your orgasm. The idea of being able to have his dick inside of you, making you feel this good, whenever you wanted and all you had to do was just be a bit of a brat (which you were amazing at).

Noticing that you were getting closer, due to the fact that your pussy was only getting tighter around his dick and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold on much longer, his hand reached down to play with your pulsating clit in hopes that you’d be able to finish with him. He kissed your face and your lips and stared at you with adoration filling his eyes.

Everything was becoming so much. You were filled to the brim with Eren’s large dick, and the way his skillful fingers were toying with you so effortlessly despite how clouded he was with pleasure made you feel incredible.

“I’m g’nna fill you up with my cum. Shit, I need to see this pussy full with my cum, is that okay, princess?”

You let out a noise of approval as you nodded which was all Eren needed before he finished inside of you and the feeling along with the knowledge of how it was you that he was finishing inside of caused you to reach your high as well.

Eren continued to thrust his dick in and out of you through both of your orgasms as you came in sync. His lips found yours - completely infatuated with the way your lips felt against his and the way you tasted on his tongue.

When Eren pulled out, he was enthralled by the sight of his cum spilling out of your hot pussy as he smirked and used one of his fingers to push what he could back inside of you.

“God, you’re so fucking hot, princess. I’m fuckin’ keeping you, do you hear me? No more of that dare shit - you’re mine permanantly.”

Breathlessly, you replied. “‘M all yours, Eren. Just fuck me like that more often, okay?”

note: it's almost 2am, the ending is rushed and I have college in the morning so i apologise if there are any mistakes. i needed to get this out before I drove myself insane.

---

ORGANISM/ORGASM suguru geto

SUMMARY: who knew suguru geto, your average tall anti-social nerd around campus knew how to fuck and had a big dick? definitely not you.

CONTENT: f! reader, nerd! geto, pwp, college! au, dumbification, praise, switch!geto, degradation, impact play, pussywhipped geto, size kink, mating press, doggy, overstim, unprotected, whiney geto sort of, breath play, geto eating it from the back, (pet names: pretty girl, princess, baby)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

NOTE: hi idk i was bored and i love dumbification. also i have nerd!geto brain rot bc of this sooo yeah @omgeto my beta reader thank u </3

“Are you like . . . stupid or something?”

Geto’s voice was a low rasp, he was growing irritated— as he should, you were wasting his time, unable to concentrate because every three seconds your eyes would flicker right near his bulge— it wasn’t your fault, he was wearing nothing but a black wrinkled frat hoodie with matching sweats— long dark locks lazily pulled up into a man bun. He’s eyeing you and it makes you nervous, you feel like he’s staring at you in other places but maybe that’s just your mind playing tricks on you.

“No, I’m not stupid,” you matched his irksome tone, a near defeated pout stretching against your sheeny glossed plump lips— a soft sigh exiting your mouth as your eyes scanned the dumb unanswered physiology packet. “This is stupid.”

“. . . No, it’s actually really easy,” Geto scoffs, his eyes flickering into a mere eye roll. He leans up close to you and grabs your hand in an attempt to guide you as you write— and he’s so close to you. You could smell his intoxicating manly cologne scent, a sweet balmy smell. “You’re just lazy. And you keep staring between my legs, I’m not an idiot, Y/n.”

Your eyes ultimately widened once he pointed it out, and you turned to see Geto staring right at you through his glass specs, raising his dark brows. “If you wanted me to fuck the knowledge into your brain, all you had to do was just use your words and ask, princess.”

“. . Huh?” You stammered, and his lewd comment completely caught you off guard. Geto sits upright, bouncing his right thigh as he leans against his palm— and he’s just staring straight at you, the air was thick, his gaze was practically telling you that you heard him.

“I think I figured out your problem,” he lowly sighs, taking the ballpoint pen— skimming his eye through the unanswered problems, some he already marked wrong— x after x, he swiftly shakes his head with a single click of his tongue before humming. “You don’t want my help, you want me.”

You furrow your eyebrows, watching Geto’s body language change— he stands up to stretch, cracking his knuckles, and he was so tall and broad, hard to think this guy was so antisocial— always in his own world, he could have been a type of athlete if he wanted, no one would have second guessed he’d be a nerd— yet here he was.

“What makes you say that?” You cleared your throat, darting your eyes away from him, his bulge was just out there— it was nearly impossible to not look, he wore matching black sweats, burying his hands into his pockets before he raised his chin a bit to look down at you as you sat in the chair.

“. . . You know,” he shrugs, adjusting his glasses for a moment, and again, his body language was so sexy, he didn’t slouch— yet at the same time he did, his gaze was forever on yours, rubbing his lips together for a moment before rolling his eyes. “I can read girls like you. Girls that only have the dirtiest things on their mind. You don’t wanna pass, you just want to feel good, is that right?”

His tone— it lowered and lowered, it was unintentionally natural but it was so attractive. The tiniest rasp in his voice, the mere bass that hid behind had you squeezing your thighs together underneath your skirt. He was right, who were you kidding. This was Geto’s third time tutoring you, and it would always end up the same— you miserably failing or getting things wrong, perhaps you were doing it on purpose— just to maybe tick him off a little. You always did find him easy on the eyes. Especially whenever he was slightly annoyed.

“Um,” you stammered, not knowing what to say— you felt your heart start to hysterically race, and just of course you felt yourself starting to throb, out of all times you’d get aroused now— just embarrassing, then again you were next to Suguru Geto, so you couldn’t exactly blame anyone but yourself, and of course, between your legs. “Well since we’re going over uh,” and you pause, glancing at the white sheet— dragging a nail down the thin paper, “orgasms— I mean— um, organisms, sorry.”

“Did you . . just say orgasms?” He chuckles lowly.

You couldn’t have felt any more embarrassed. How could you mix those two words up? Idiot idiot idiot.

“N-No, I didn’t,” you babbled, and your eyes meet his, he’s got a mere smug look plastered on his face, your own flusteredness fueling his pure and utter enjoyment, seeing you fumble over your sentences was quite adorable— Geto crossed his arms with a simple head shake motion. “Organisms and the um.. functions of it.”

“Uh huh,” he cocks his head to the right, not believing you for a split second. “Want me to teach you how orgasms in a woman’s body function instead?”

You blankly stared at him, shocked— not knowing how much of a dirty mouth he really had, you had to blink a few times, questioning if that’s what he really said, and he definitely said it, giving you a teasing eyebrow raise.

“. . . Yeah,” You nodded, in a frail weak voice— you didn’t apprehend how needy you sounded, Geto’s teasing only continued to make you throb more and more, clenching your thighs together, feeling the sheer fabric of your clothed skirt between your legs, you were so turned on— maybe you were just a dirty girl, screw physiology, you wanted to screw the nerd that was literally right next to you.

You couldn’t lie, throughout certain sessions, you sort of fantasized about Geto fucking you on his desk, lifting up your skirt and spanking you, imagining how mean he’d be— envisioning the nastiest things coming out of his mouth, so many dirty thoughts filled up your brain— it’s got you currently licking your lips, just thinking of it again before Geto lets off a sigh.

“Sure, you always did say you were a visual learner after all. Now lay flat on my desk and face forward.”

And yet— you found yourself bent over Geto’s desk like some college slut, your back in an almost perfect positioned arch, Geto’s lazy, he doesn’t care— he’s got your skirt just pulled up to the very waistline of your hips, you’re practically being shoved into the papers, your mouth slightly opens, lips parting and sweet melodic moans and whimpers leave out as he’s just slurping everything out of you—

Geto’s tongue . . . it was nothing you’ve ever come across before, so filthy, a rough big hand of his grips the right part of your ass, the very pad of his thumb caresses the sweet plushy skin before he spanks you and you whimper.

“Work on the problems while I eat you out,” he mutters in a gruff tone— you shiver marginally, feeling the tip of his tongue swirl against your folds, he had a rhythm— and it felt so good, you tried to reach for your pen but paused once you heard him starting to suck and suck deeply against your puffy clit. “Don’t listen and I’ll stop eating you out, simple.”

“S—Suguruuu,” you cried out, smothering your glossed up lips together, he‘s teasing you in a way, slowly grazing his tongue between your pussy, again and again— yet has it laying flat, you moaned, nearly losing composure from how sloppy he was— he was face deep, you felt the coldness of his glasses brush against your ass before he takes them off, gripping them with one hand— spanking you again with another.

“I didn’t tell you to say my name, dumb girl. I told you to work on the problems,” he grunts, and he’s got such imaginable skill— it’s got you dragging the top of your teeth softly against your bottom lip, he’s eliciting sweet whimper after whimper out of your throat— it’s purely euphoric, not even ten minutes passed and you felt that familiar sensation brewing up inside of you. “You’re dumb but you’re not that dumb, keep up princess.”

You’re just moaning your head off— Geto’s got your pussy laid on his mouth, you’re keeping the arch for him and you moan once more, feeling his warm breath fan against your cunt, his tongue’s creating such shapes against you— a plethora of shapes being made, maneuvering anywhere and everywhere and you’re just so numb. No match for his tongue at all. Supremely without a doubt.

“O—Okay,” you mumbled out in short tiny pants, dragging your right wrist towards you— making your eyes fixate towards the paper, scanning your words over the dumb problems— staring at the dump charts, the dumb anatomy— the functions of orgasms— organisms, and Geto’s just going crazy with his tongue, he’s got your legs shaking, trembling in utter want and need, such pleasure escaping your body, you’re practically being rocked against the wooden old desk. “F-Fuck I can’t concentrate, Suguru.”

“That’s kinda funny, heheh, when could you ever concentrate, hm, pretty girl?” He replies, and his voice is so sly— dripping with such desire and playfulness, it’s enough to get you wet. Soaking and dripping as if your poor pussy was having some sort of pathetic competition with a leaking faucet.

His words, so mean and tantalizing yet they kept reaching straight to your cunt, each and every time, the way he’d dumb you down with not only his words but his tongue— not to mention how every few second he’d kiss the very part of your ass with the palm of his hand, the sting making you whine, it feels so good— you’re trying to maintain focus but you just can’t, he’s making it so hard—

The noises Geto made were just filthy, squelch after squelch. Your pussy was so vocal, he knew how to use his tongue— how to coax such harmonic noises out of a woman, out of you— you always figured Geto was just inexperienced. He’s always somewhere isolating himself— nose buried in a book, his studies the only necessity and priority of his time.

“Tell me the answer to problem b.” he grumbles— grabbing a full of both parts of your ass, spreading it just a tad bit, he swirled his tongue in a circular motion and you moan loudly— it rings throughout the thin walls of his dorm, feeling him playfully nibble against your pussy.

“I—I’m gonna fucking cu—”

“No, brat,” Geto spats, presenting you with yet another mean spank. You bit your lip— your back extending its arch against his desk, and you’re so close— your orgasm was practically dancing off the very top of your tongue. He then pitched his tone. “I—I’m gonna fucking cum isn’t anywhere displayed on the bubbled answers, silly girl.”

Smart ass— that’s all Suguru Geto was. Such a know-it-all on campus, infuriating— but if it was one thing he knew how to do, it was eating pussy.

“Um . . U—Um,” you pant, and he’s basically making out with your folds, his tongue twirls and twirls, he’s so into it— his long black lashes fluttered, closed practically as he’s just devouring your sweetness— pussydrunk nerd, your entire slick covering the very bottom of his chiseled chin. He has to spank your ass to snap you back into reality— and you whine, mouth opening and you’re feeling yourself grow more and more aroused, tongue salivating with your own saliva. “Is it option ‘A’? Where it talks about um— biological— energy f-fuck.. transformation?”

“Ooh. Good girl,” he huffs out, his voice grows lower and lower— the way it pitches, going down an octave, makes you more soaked throughout each second— your pupils just roam across the thin long strip of paper— you’re just so stupid, growing completely feral from how good he was sucking against the pearly sweet nub that was shoved between your clit— so good, he’s carrying you closer and closer towards that point, your mouth starts to feel a bit dry before Geto teasingly hums against your pussy— and you whimper from the unexpected abrupt vibrations he made. “Enough about bio though, gotta show you the astounding science behind a woman’s orgasm.”

Geto’s just talking and talking— you can’t exactly comprehend a thing he’s saying, he doesn’t hesitate to spit on your pussy a few times, bring a thumb up towards your clit— rub it, and repeat— he had such a way with his tongue, including his fingers which came as such a shocker to you nonetheless. Tongue deep, he’d probably die like this happily and he wouldn’t be ashamed at all.

You’re just hanging by a thread— both hands, trembling with want, you’re so whiney— yet you can’t exactly help it, it’s his tongue— his tongue’s to blame, the way it just collides against your folds, it’s so lewd— he doesn’t care how filthy he is either, he’s playing with your sensitive jittery bundle of nerves purposely.

“Mhm— first we gotta acknowledge the pleasure you’re feeling,” he purrs— his tone was purely seductive now, Geto swipes a lick— a singular stripe up your pussy, presenting your entire body with goosebumps, biting down again on your lip and he continues to speak, “. . . those pretty nasty rhythmic contractions that’s about to build up— reaching your very peak before you let go for me.”

His tone was softening— yet you could hear the playfulness coat on his voice, you’re practically soaked by now— he’s such a tease, a flirt— your head’s just spinning, mind racing miles after miles.

“Relax on my tongue,” he rasps— his voice grows soothing now, bringing rough hands to tilt your hips forward, closer towards his mouth— you were the cutest thing, having your black skirt in such a non-caring and lazy way. “There there, focus on your breathing just like that— keep those hips raised just like that for me, yeahhh.”

You swallowed— a tiny subtle whine leaving your lips, and just as he’s coaxing you with his sugary wordings— you’re feeling that rise of pleasure builds up like blocks— it’s just so much to bare, your poor legs can’t help but shake and jerk and jolt— twitching, the feeling on Geto’s sloppy tongue dipping in and out of your folds— coating your pussy with such glacé flavored kisses, he’s addicted, for sure pussy drunk— and once you came, you’re an entire dumbfounded mess.

“F-Fuck— Fuckkk—” You gasped, he’s easily yanking out that needy whine out the very back of your throat, your clit’s just throbbing— you feel it pulsating between your legs as you’re making a mess on his face with your sweetened slick. Geto grunts a little— some free-exposed strands of his hair tickling the very skin of your ass.

His lips were just attached— glued onto your slippery folds like velcro, your lips part, legs trembling and he’s slurping you clean— again and again, easily spreading your achy labia with his tongue, making sure to be messy— be filthy.

“Good girl. Hopefully— that helps you tell the difference between an organism and an orgasm, !heheh.” he pants with a sly chortle— finally breaking his lips away, as he departs, he watches the strings of his own spit leave from his lips— and he finds it so lewd, it takes everything in him to not just go back to eating you out with you bent over his desk again. “Now keep the arch for me, dummy.”

“How am I gonna— be able to finish my work if you’re gonna be f-fucking me?” You pant, breath heavy— you’re even out of breath actually, his tongue taking quite literally everything out of you.

Geto lets off a grunt— and you moan, feeling him grab your hips, he presses up directly behind you, taking a few long seconds to rub himself against you— you bit your lip, feeling the dick print hiding behind his sweats— making your ass roll and jerk in a specific slow rotation that makes you dizzy. “You can multitask, pretty girl, don’t worry.”

And as he says that, you whimper— feeling Geto just move your exposed ass against his sweats, swiping a tongue across his lips, a soft groan exits his pink lips, and you could feel his rock-hard boner, he was so pent up— all because of you, eating you out did such things to him, Geto needed more, he ultimately craved it.

“Think if I fuck you hard enough, the knowledge will transmit into your brain, princess?” He mutters, and you grow quiet once you feel him shift a bit in his pants, and he‘s springing out his length— you couldn't see but you just assumed he was as big as he appeared. The entire inside of the dorm room was fair room temperature, warm yet cool— although Geto’s touch made you feel so hot, scorching with such heat, and not just talking about between your legs. “Figured that’ll help you out a bit considering you’re not thinking about the subject at all, just probably thinking about what I feel like inside of you, mhm.”

“S-Stop talking and j—just fuck me, Sugur—”

“Watch that mouth of yours,” He purrs, his tone is unmistakably smooth, deep, and downright sexy. As he says that, he gives your ass another spank, grunting quietly from the recoil that moved against your left cheek— the sting was just delicious, simply appetizing if you will. “I expect that paper to be finished by the time I make you cum again. Think you can do that for me, pretty?”

You bit back a moan, hard— feeling Geto make sure your legs were spread, thwacking the leaking glossed cockhead of his length playfully against your folds, he’s such a tease it makes your brain swell up— you’re growing hot everywhere.

“Y-Yes, Suguru.” You finally replied, your voice was trembling on its own— you’re so whiny as you fixate your attention once more towards the paper full of unanswered or incorrectly marked physiology questions.

“Good girl, now pick up the pen—” he hitched, and you moan, feeling him just toy with your slick opening, it drags out a soft mewl from you, Geto’s so big— and you were only judging from his tip, your mouth started to water by only just imagining him fully inside. “And focus, you’re a smart girl— not a dumb one.”

Your hips jerked just a bit as you hovered over the wooden desk— facing forward, both arms rested on the creaking sleek surface, your tongue fondles alongside your cheek, staring at the multitude of problems being displayed.

Cells, mechanisms, characteristics.

So many words— words you could practically care less about, the minute you pick up your pen, filling in the tiny spaced bubble of some answer you came up with— you whimpered, feeling Geto slide himself inside slowly, he fit nice and snug— a sexy low groan leaves his lips, and he’s trying to get adjusted, so are you, his size— he was just so big. Stretching your pussy throughout each second, your walls ultimately expanding, you grip around him and it’s got your head spinning, mind racing, hips twitching.

“Mhmmm— think your pussy was made for me,” he huffs out, his voice had such a raspy, slick baritone to it— it had you soaked, drenched. Who knew this nerd who always kept to himself— lurked and lived around campus, the library his second home basically, had such a big dick?

The way your back arched over his desk— turned him on a lot more than it should have, seeing your cute and proper posture, awaiting to be fucked senseless— he couldn’t get enough of it.

Geto used the tips of his fingers to play against the very edges and ridges of your skirt, giving your ass a spank— a sign for you to keep writing and you moaned. “Focus, girl.”

“S-Sorry,” you whined, reading the problems with glossed eyes, once Geto starts up a mean rhythmic pace— you were for sure being fucked against the desk, he started slow, yet had deep strokes with even deeper thrusts.

He found it cute, you were struggling to maintain the arch you had— the way your ass wriggled within his grip as he‘s practically balls deep now, his base taps against yours and you moan, Geto grunts— black thin eyebrows tugging together before he swallows. “F-Fuckkk, sloppy pussy can’t help but grip onto me.”

“S—Suguruuuu,” You whined, and you grew more louder once his tip kissed up against your clit— going past your folds, his girth stretched out so good to where it didn’t take long to reach every single crevice of your cunt. “F-Fuck me harder—”

“Dumb girl, you’re not supposed to be paying attention to me fucking you,” he pants, watching your hips jerk and hit against him— your eyes start to roll within seconds, the desk just creaks and creaks— your legs shook with such intensity, as if you were just walking on eggshells. Geto’s words always found itself towards your cunt, as pathetic as it sounds, his voice— his deep, alluring voice was so smooth, you can’t help but get off from it. “At this rate, you’re not gonna get anything done.”

You’re just fumbling over your words at this point, rying to speak but inarticulate forms of babbles and whines left instead of coherent sentences, his cock was just making you ache and yearn for more. “M-Maybe if you just fuck me good and hard enough I’ll start to u—um, comprehend, Suguru.”

“Is this all you ever really think about?” He chuckles, tilting your hips upwards just a bit— you’re not focusing on the sheet anymore, you’re literally just being completely stupefied by Geto’s length— being fucked vigorously into his desk— the sheer sounds of mean skin slapping reverberates across the entire dorm room—

You’re so loud, you end up forgetting there’s literally other peers of yours sleeping right behind the walls you were in— they probably heard everything. “You’re gonna fail this semester, princess. Last time I checked, dick isn’t gonna be on the exam next week.”

“Can’t help it when you f-fuck me this good—” You stammered, gripping onto the desk— he’s hitting you in all the right spots, your vision merely turns into white to where you’re just seeing star after star— galaxies even, again it could have even been considered euphoric. Geto’s dick was simply out of this world.

You might have gotten a bit addicted though— you’re completely lost, in a trance, you wished he’d fuck you those many sessions ago— you didn’t have to be studying boring useless physiology, you could have been getting your insides stirred instead.

“Still can’t believe you showed up to my dorm with no panties underneath,” Geto murmurs, caressing a thumb against the soft padded skin of your ass, your pretty skirt was ruffled— moving against your slightly pulled up university hoodie and you’re just a whiney stuttering mess—

Each stroke he presents your cunt gets you dumber and dumber. “Maybe you had this entire thing planned. Act stupid so you could get fucked stupid. Tell me I’m wrong, princess.”

“M-Maybe,” you moaned— and he was drilling his hips into you, such speed it has your mouth opening, going agape just a bit with meaningless babbles escaping. A tiny mewl leaves your lips before you reach down to play with yourself before Geto smacks your hand lightly and you let off a soft noise.

“Don’t touch my pussy, girl.”

You gasped, feeling Geto dip his hips just a bit— and that’s when you feel his cock mash against your g-spot and a whine rips from your throat, you felt it— you were sensitive, it’s so orgasmic your tongue is just salivating— he knew where to hit, so good your toes start to curl, and you’re getting close again.

“Read me the problem again,” he huffs out, he still has his glasses in one hand, tossing it on the wooden desk, his hair long— flawless, tangled just a bit, dancing against his broad shoulders. “Proper sentences too, if you stutter once, I’m not gonna let you cum on me, pretty girl.”

“Sugu—” And you paused to breathe through your nose, he scratches such a good itch in your brain, you have to stop and think for a moment— wondering why he’s never fucked you before, you were hooked, the curve of his dick stretched you out so good, you’re just a mess— a messy girl, eyes practically half-lidded by now, not a single thought in the world but just Suguru Geto fucking you dumb dumb dumb.

“Okay— okayyy,” you moaned, your voice trembling on its own— you were so close, that same warm rise brewing up inside of you, being careful with your choice of your words— he was so mean, stutter once or you couldn’t cum? Just imagining that formed a cute pout on your lips as you averted your eyes towards the white thin sheet of paper. “It says— it says to identify the um . . the—”

“Looks like someone’s stuttering, that’s too bad,” he lowly chuckles, and you’re whimpering— your right leg starts to bounce, preparing for its incoming release and you whine.

You pant, staring at the paper. “Wait wait, okay, it says that I have to identify . . identify the biomolecules and— analyze the um . . nerves and pheromones.”

“Good girl, that wasn’t so hard.” He grunts— and Geto’s getting close himself— his hefty base is smacking and smacking against you, and you’re so dizzy— every few seconds he gives you a spank that makes you whine, you’re so embarrassed, bent over his desk— scattered papers everywhere, your handwriting was a bit sloppy— considering you were trying to write while getting ruthlessly fucked from behind. “Mhm— fuck, I’m gonna cum too.”

“. . . Insideee Suguru,” you spat, your pussy was just so greedy— clamping and gripping down on him, it was filthy and so selfish by how you just held him hostage— as if your cunt had a complete mind of its own, your mind is just filled was complete and utter fog, the sounds that leave your mouth is so undeniably lewd— he’s dragging out whimper after whimper from your pretty throat as if it’s nothing, and it’s music to his ears, a song he’d never want to stop listening to if he was being honest. “P-Please.”

“You think you deserve it after wasting my time?” He fake pouts, just grinding his hips against your core, it was salacious— the rotation was circular, in sync yet at the same time it wasn’t— you could hardly keep up with Geto, he was just so big— you couldn’t fathom how he’d walk around with a size this big— let alone why he wasn’t fucking you like this the entire time he’s spent helping you study. You were hardly listening to him, all you knew was that you were close, extremely close, you felt yourself starting to get warm— his hips just buckled against yours before he hit against your g-spot again, with such careless ease.

You pathetically nodded and he spanked your ass. “Not a complete answer, baby.”

You bit your lip— and for some reason once he called you baby, you felt yourself get butterflies— butterflies between your legs.

“Pleasepleaseplease Suguru—” is all you kept saying, all you knew how to say— all your brain could comprehend and formulate. Geto’s hips were just ferociously smacking against yours, and before you know it—

An hour passes, and another— by this point, his cock has you completely stupefied. You only got through three problems, just barely, circling any bubble on the sheet as he’s just plowing you— constantly, each position has you whipped for more, he’s nice enough to let you cum though— even if he makes your orgasms a bit delayed just to get on your nerves.

“Fuckkkk . . . I’m so full,” he groans, and this time, Geto moves you towards his bed, mating press— he’s hovering on top of your pussy, such a mess was pouring out of you, watching his own seed just drip and ooze out, he’s panting heavily now— gripping down on your thighs as his weight presses down against you a bit—

Each time he jerks, he watches the strings of his own cum depart, it’s so messy— and Geto’s loads were always so much, he had a lot to give— and when you asked for him to fill you up in that sweet needy tone, he just couldn’t resist. “Overflowing this nasty cunt,” he huffs, and you whimper— feeling him drag a rough hand between your legs to give it a spank. “But— I’m getting dazed, your pussy’s fucking dangerous, girl.”

You pout, feeling him pull out slowly— you writhe from his actions, and Geto’s breathing was unintentionally sexy as well— everything he did was attractive— his eyes were becoming low now, pink lips parting, tiny dimples pressing against near the corners of his mouth before he plops back against the bed— manspread.

Catching your breath yourself, you made your way towards him— growing an idea inside before you spoke in a soft voice, somewhat shy to ask.

“Can I ride you at least? One more time? I think it’ll um . . help me understand the female body more.”

“You’re so annoying,” he rolls his eyes, and you watch him rub a rough hand against his legs in a motion— telling you to come here, he‘s very much well trimmed but just a few black specks of hair were located near his base. “But fine, go ahead. Knock yourself out I suppose.”

You get on top of Geto— and the eye contact was so sensual, he’s staring at you, giving you his uninvited attention— his eyes trail near your body before he brings a rough hand to attach to your waist, watching you start to sink down on him before he lets off an unexpected moan.

“O—Oh shit.” He whines.

He didn’t expect for you to grip down on him so well— the squelch that happens is so loud, it rings throughout his ears and for a moment, Geto has to blink twice— keeping his gaze on you the entire time. Your hips sputter and within seconds, he’s fully in— you don’t hesitate to start moving and Geto’s jaw tightens. He’s sensitive— he just came minutes ago, and here you were making him even more sensitive, his head goes back and his body language changes.

It was sexy. You were moaning for him, and yet here he is now— moaning for you.

Geto’s got such an aroma that’s loud, he smells good, he was always specific on what cologne brands he’d wear, such sweetness to it, it always drove you crazy, to complete insanity.

“Should I s-stop riding you?” You spoke, trying not to giggle— he was so pretty at this moment, suppressing his vocal moans, seeing tiny veins show near his neck— his eyes flicker for a moment before he spanks your ass twice.

“N-No— don’t fucking stop riding me,” he replies instantly, and his tone— it changed, a mere tremor to it— and you’re making him feel so good, using him to get off for your own pleasure, his cock was thick, just stretching inside your walls as if came easy to him.

You stare at Geto— and he’s glancing back at you, he’s panting— his hoodie was still on, but slightly pulled up, you could just about make out his brick hard abs, a few scratch marks coated there from you— his v-line was perfectly chiseled, as if he was some sort of geek god. “F-Fuckkk. Like that, ride it— like you own it, p-princess.”

He’s the one stammering now— and it’s cute, he grows flustered once you jolt against him, against his warm body with your hips— your cunt‘s taking him in, back slightly arched and you’re whining yourself— feeling him just reach way past that sweetens spot of yours that always knew where to draw you straight blanks.

Geto grabs a handful of your ass, and the way his head leans back against the old headrest, his messy tangled hair flows down his back, he’s moaning— such nerves inside of him being the death of him, as well as your sloppy spasming hips— just no match for your pussy, no matter how many times he tried to deny it.

“Something f—funny?” He huffs out, trying to focus on his breathing, you’re just bouncing on him— time after time, the pace becomes frenzied, reckless, just straight erratic. His dick had you dumb, definition of stupefied— exactly what you were.

“Noo.” You moaned, feeling him bring two hands, making you clamp down harder against him— he’s getting dizzy from how good you’re riding him, he’s going delirious. Swiping a tongue across his lips, he keeps his gaze on you the entire time before he whimpers out of nowhere— and it catches you off guard, his eyebrows furrowed and that’s when Geto came again— right inside your pussy, a straight shot, a straight single load.

He pauses— heaving entirely, that’s when you lean in to kiss him though— you’re expecting Geto to pull away but he doesn’t. He kisses back, his moans going inside your mouth, a sloppy kiss, his eyebrows still furrowed and curled, sensitive from his nerves— from filling you with another thick load as he’s still deep inside, shivering from feeling him still trickle into you at such lengths.

Geto caresses a hand down your back as you stop your movements, and his whines hesitate and pauses for a moment— letting off a deep “Mhm,” as his tongue drags against yours slowly at such luscious sweet pace.

You pull away finally, before giggling— and he glares at you, catching his breath as he stares at you— reaching for his glasses as you leaned up close to him, sneaking a kiss near the bottom of his chin.

“. . . So, did I pass Suguru?” You teased, a near smug grin forming against your lips.

He was so out of it— perhaps you fucked him dumb because it takes him a few seconds to come up with a reply before lightly shoving you off of him. “No you don‘t f-fucking pass, you get an F. Now get out of m-my room. F—fuck . . me.”

---

tw - non/con, manipulation, mentions of breeding, and unbalanced power dynamics.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's ecstatic the day his owner, Suguru, brings you home. He's the pinnacle of a spoiled pet, constantly showered in toys and treats and affection, but his owner's a busy man, and he tends to sulk when left home alone. He's had other companions before, another leopard hybrid who nearly killed him before being released back into the wild and a black panther who somehow proved to be a worse influence on Satoru than Satoru was on her, but you're supposed to be more permanent solution, another hosuepet to keep him company when Suguru can't. You're a sweet little housecat, all wide-eyes and raised ears, but still, Suguru wouldn't be surprised if you're begging to go back to the shelter less than an hour after meeting your new roommate.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who falls in love with you immediately. Suguru practically has to keep him in a chokehold while you explore your new home, eventually curling up on your new bed. Satoru's on top of you as soon as he gets loose, purring obnoxiously while he runs his bristled tongue over your cheek. Suguru's half-convinced that your first day's going to end with bloody claws and bandages, but you only nuzzle into his chest and knead at the blankets underneath you. Satoru's a difficult cat to put up with, and Suguru's relieved that you, at least, find him tolerable.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's absolutely massive compared to you. The tips of your pointed ears barely reach his collarbones, and your wrist is only as thick as his fluffy tail. His favorite hobby quickly becomes carrying you from room to room despite your softly mewled protests, and he's not happy unless he's pressed against you as closely as possible. He used to force himself into Suguru's lap whenever possible, but now, he's unbearable unless you're sitting pretty in his. He doesn't even complain when you lose your temper and dig your little fangs (barely half the size of his - a poor imitation of a real predator's) into his arm, just grinning as he tugs at your ears and pinches your cheeks. He's not exactly a wild animal, but he's still at the top of his food chain. You're not quite a mouse, but you might as well be, compared to him.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's calling you his mate after less than a full month. You don't know what it means, often parroting it back as more of a question than a term of endearment, and Suguru just brushes it off as Satoru being deliberately irritating. He keeps it up, though. even after you start refusing to respond to it.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who starts introducing you to new "games". You know you don't stand a chance against him, but somehow, he always manages to goad you into roughhousing, into squirming as he pins you under his full weight. He likes to dangle things above your head, to see how long it takes your instincts to get the best of you before your chest is pressed against his and you're pouting so adorably as you jump and bat at his hand. Sometimes, when you fall asleep mid-grooming session, he'll let his mouth wander lower than it should, and you'll wake up to his tongue lapping over your chest, his face buried between your thighs in a way that leaves you teary-eyed and warm. You've tried to tell Suguru, but you always get embarrassed and end up mumbling something as vague as 'Satoru's being mean to me, again.' In the end, Satoru only ever gets a slap on the wrist and a new reason to tease you, next time Suguru turns his back.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who fucks you whenever Suguru isn't home. He planned on waiting for your first heat (delayed by your shelter suppressants and the stress of a new home), and he knows he's not supposed to, but he just can't get enough of having your smaller body curled up underneath his, your tail thrashing from side to side as he lazily rolls his hips against yours. You tend to whine, at first, to go on and on about how weird it feels and how much it hurts, but as soon he gets his cock inside of you, all those complaints tend to go away. It's almost funny, how easily your stupid little kitty mind gets all hazy and cockdrunk. He always loves you, but he loves you most when you're drooling and purring for his cum, begging him to breed you properly between hitched moans.

Snow Leopard!Satoru, who's not even mad when Suguru catches him bouncing your half-conscious, fucked-out body on his cock. He wants to be the best possible mate for you, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't willing to show you off <3

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