Polarity | 01 Yandere!jungkook Au

when i post this filthy mattsun fic pls don't let me down

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

The Reaper | Jungkook x Reader

Pairing: Yandere Mercenary Jungkook x  Reader 

Word Count: 14.6k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Murder, Lots of Blood, Attempted Sexual Assault (Not By Jungkook), Mild Smut, Dub-Con, Cunnilingus, Decapitation, Throats are Slit, Wolf Attacks 

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: “With your skirts drawn up over your thighs, the skin raised with goosebumps from the cool spring air, his hand retreated only to return with what looked like a stamp but where the rubber should have been, there were instead tiny needles all coated with bright red ink. Before you could begin to squirm again he quickly pressed it against the side of your thigh pulling a pained cry from your throat.

When he removed the faux stamp beads of blood rose to the surface of your skin, blending with the red ink that has been left behind. But the image imprinted on your skin was clear as day, a symbol your town had come to associate with fear: a skull pierced by a sword and ensnared by a snake. It was the mark of the reaper. 

You had been marked for death.” 

A/N: Here I am at almost three in the morning again lol. This is super UNEDITED but I will edit it tomorrow so please bear with me when it comes to any grammatical errors. I HUSTLED to get this done before classes start Monday so hopefully the quality did not suffer. This also ended up being 4-6k longer than intended. Very on brand. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and the comments, love you 💜💜💜

It was supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but your stomach was twisted in knots. 

You were one of the lucky ones, at least that was what your father had told you when he excitedly grabbed hold of your hands with a winning smile. 

“A diamond in the rough,” He had whispered in awe, “How lucky I am to have had such a beautiful daughter born out of this village.” 

It is true that none of us have a say as to what family we are born into, and that couldn’t be any more true for you. You were born into a poor family in a dilapidated village in the woods, you had been destined to live a destitute life like everyone else who had come before you. But you were happy. You enjoyed your spring days running barefoot through the Brooke, the lingering heat of summer nights beneath the stars, the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot, and the bite of cold winter wind against your cheeks. You adored the simplicity of the only life you had ever known and you never wanted for more. 

But oftentimes, parents desired more for their children, more than they ever had. And that was why your father had jumped at the chance to marry you off to a visiting lord. 

Had you not entered the forest that day to forage, maybe you would not have ended up in this situation. But you had so there was no point in dwelling on the alternate possibilities of what could have come to pass rather than what actually had. 

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Scoring, In More Ways Than One | Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x Reader

When you ask your non-writer friends to help you name your fic and you end up with football puns, but I’m not even mad about it.

This is a disgustingly late submission to @prettyboykatsuki​‘s Corruption collab. I’m so sorry that I’m now so late you probably forgot all about the collab entirely, but thank you so much for letting me join! This has been dying in my docs for months so it feels amazing to actually finish it and I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You knew when you first started dating Kunigami that he took football extremely seriously, and it was something that you accepted about him.  He’s waiting until he makes it into the Pro-leagues to have sex with you, because he can’t have any vices or distractions from his childhood dream, but Raichi thinks you’re the biggest distraction there is.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, no beta, virgin!reader, implied/hinted virgin!Kunigami, threesomes, degradation from Raichi, praise, blowjobs, hand jobs, cunnilingus, fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, sweat, cumplay, creampies, no protection, voyeurism.

Pairing: Kunigami Rensuke x Raichi Jingo x f!reader.

Word Count: 8.6k.

Qualifying matches were often a hostile environment for your boyfriend and his football team, the tensions high as they made their way up the tables towards the finals. During these periods it was normal for you to see less of Kunigami as he spent all his free time practising with his team, but for a few cherished moments each evening, you’d have him all to yourself.

You’d been lucky enough to accompany him to the championships this year. Often having to resort to FaceTime, texts and voice calls to keep close during the distance in your relationship. But as well as getting to spend more time with your boyfriend during downtime and watching the games from the sidelines, this meant you now got to experience how hostile the environment could get with his teammates.

“That goal was mine, Kunigami.” Raichi snarled after shouldering his way into your hotel room that evening, “You always have to play the fuckin’ hero, huh?”

“You weren’t open,” Kunigami replied smoothly, towelling his hair dry as he stood at the foot of the bed with a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, “And we needed to win.”

“Are you trying to say I couldn’t have made it?” Raichi scoffed.

“There was no way,” Kunigami shrugged, “That’s why Isagi passed to me.”

“And you thought you’d just score the winning goal.” Raichi rolled his eyes.

“Isn’t that the point of the game, Raichi?” Kunigami tutted, dropping the towel onto the office chair in the room to cross his arms over his chest, “Scoring goals?”

“You’re so lucky to have such a good guy ain’t ya, sweetheart.” Raichi seethed, pure venom dripping from his every word.

“Yeah, she is.” Kunigami furrowed his brows, “And I think it’s time for you to leave.”

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Sink to the depths.

The long awaited Christmas Bash Bonten fic, hope it's worth the wait y'all <33

Bonten x female reader

wc. 8.3k

tw: yandere, noncon, dubcon, noncon drug use, murder, abuse, blood, violence, choking, dp, sex trafficking, kinda stockholm syndrome-ish, nsfw, manga spoilers

You’re not entirely sure what it is exactly that stirs you from sleep, only that it’s early, the first rays of dawn light just barely peeking through the window.

Kokonoi’s arm’s slung over your waist, red silken sheets pooling over bare skin, yet even with the warmth of his body lying beside yours, it’s not enough to keep the chill from seeping into your bones. Cool, but not freezing – just on the edge of discomfort.

There’s the temptation to simply roll over, curl up against Koko and drift off for another few hours. You’re still tired, and sleep – even in the arms of a man you despise – isn’t something you have the luxury of squandering. And yet the moment the thought enters your head, you push it aside. Despite the early hour and your seemingly never ending exhaustion, you can already feel the beginnings of restlessness setting in.

You can lie there, close your eyes and will yourself back to sleep, but you’ll only toss and turn – and risk waking Koko in the process.

No, you think, better to try and slip away. Across the hall and largely untouched is the room they’d given you. Your clothes are there, warmer blankets, a bed, your own bathroom with a shower. A far cry from the old, stained mattress they’d so graciously allowed you to use when you’d first arrived.

You can’t remember the last night you’d actually slept in there, but it is nice to have a space that’s just yours – even if it doesn’t truly belong to you at all. Nothing here does. Nevertheless, the thought of a hot shower and some temporary peace and privacy is an alluring one. It’s not just the exhaustion, your entire body hurts from last night, the finger shaped bruises that mar your hips and thighs the least of them.

Slowly – gingerly – you begin to wriggle out from under his arm, trying to extricate yourself without–

“Mmpfh.”

The groan is low and rough, heavy with sleep, and as his arm tightens around your waist dragging you back against him, Koko’s lips brush along your neck, “And where do you think you’re going?”

Your stomach knots. Months ago, you wouldn’t have noticed the faint, warning edge to his tone. Then again, months ago you’d been under the foolish assumption that out of all of them, he was the sane one.

The safest.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply.

He hums idly, long, lithe fingers trailing up your side.

“…That’s not what I asked you.”

He’s not mad per se, not yet. But it’s always a tightrope with Koko; one minute things are fine and you can almost pretend that whatever it is that’s between you two has any semblance of normality, but one tiny misstep; a thoughtless comment, flinching away at the wrong moment, and everything falls apart.

Koko might lack the hair-trigger penchant for violence that some of your other captors favour, but you haven’t been able to shake the unpleasant memories of the last time he’d flown off the handle.

The thought of testing those limits so early in the morning isn’t a pleasant one.

And so you roll over to look at him properly, careful to keep your expression neutral, sleepy even. As if the thought of slipping away from him wasn’t one born of desperation, but merely a whim of your semi-conscious state.

Your reply momentarily gets stuck in your throat, however, when you actually take him in. Naked, propped up against the headboard and bathed in the dim morning light, there’s a certain kind of striking beauty to the man. Even with long, silvery locks mussed and eyes glazed with sleep – those same eyes that flit over your features, narrowed as he awaits your answer.

“I was gonna go take a shower. I still feel all…” Somehow, telling him that you feel gross after spending the night with him doesn’t seem like a smart move, no matter the truth of it. “I didn’t want to wake you,” you amend.

Another half truth. Yet it seems to do the trick in placating him, his expression softening as he presses a chaste, almost affectionate kiss to your lips.

“You shouldn’t have worried. I need to get up soon anyway.”

He smiles as he says it – one you’ve learned better than to believe genuine – laying his hand to rest at the base of your throat. Instinctively, you stiffen, heart skipping a beat. No matter how long you’ve been here, the unspoken rules about leaving permanent damage, you still haven’t been able to shake that innate fear every time their fingers tighten around your neck.

And from the look in Koko’s eyes, the way his smile turns cold, he knows it.

His touch is delicate, teasing almost as his thumb sweeps along the column of your throat, and for a moment you’re confused by the sudden intensity in his expression–

Until he reaches a sore spot; the edge of a shallow cut, courtesy of one of the others, and cruelly presses down. It’s enough to draw a sharp gasp from you; one that’s quickly swallowed up by Koko’s mouth as it collides with yours.

Domineering.

Possessive.

His hips rock eagerly against your own, teeth nipping at your bottom lip – harsh enough to draw blood – and all thoughts of a peaceful, quiet morning go up in smoke.

“But we have some time, don’t we?” he pants between kisses, already drawing your naked body back under his.

It isn’t a question.

Stupid of you to think that it ever is.

—

The glowing red numbers on your old alarm clock tell you it’s a little after three in the morning when the door to your apartment slowly creaks open.

For the fifth time this week.

Squeezing your eyes shut, relief washes over you, the knot in your stomach easing as your brother’s familiar footsteps creep down along the hallway. He’s home. He’s safe, for tonight at least.

And just as you have every other night this week, and the countless nights before that, you feign sleep as he pulls back the curtain of your room, peeking in only to check that you’re where you’re supposed to be.

Tonight, however, he hesitates before leaving.

You can smell the booze and cigarette smoke wafting off of him. The faint, metallic tang of blood that almost – almost – draws you out from your charade. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something stupid and gotten himself in a fight at some dingy bar downtown, but the air feels heavier tonight.

Something’s… off, and so you keep your eyes shut.

There’s a dull thud – the back of his head hitting the wooden doorframe. “Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s gone.

—

“D’ya want some, babe?”

Sanzu’s cheshire grin widens, the scars either side of his lips stretching as you meekly shake your head. The same answer you’ve given every time he’s so generously offered to share his stash.

“Your loss,” he says with an unaffected shrug, shoving you back down to the couch. Just across the hall, in the other room, Mochi and Takeomi are deep in the middle of a discussion about an upcoming meeting, their voices floating down the hall.

You catch a snippet or two, something about distribution and profits – some mid level dealer getting a little too greedy for his own good – but it’s easy enough to tune it out.

And once upon a time, you’d be mortified at the thought that anyone could just walk in and see you like this; half naked and sprawled out before Sanzu like a whore. But this is practically tame compared to some of the other far more public displays you’ve been subjected to in the months since you arrived.

Besides, it’s not like either one of them would be in a position to judge. Only yesterday, Takeomi had you on your knees, sucking his cock under the table while he had his morning coffee and cigarette.

You hadn’t so much as blinked when Sanzu’d come home, splatters of fresh blood staining his pastel suit, and rather than heading into his own room to shower and sleep it off, had made a beeline straight for you. Ignoring the TV show you’d been absorbed in, he’d simply grabbed you by the arm and snapped at you to take off your top.

By now you know better than to argue.

“Lie still for me,” Sanzu instructs, but he’s barely paying attention as he grabs the baggie and taps out a small pile of coke onto your stomach. You watch, steadying your breath so as to not disturb the white powder while he takes out a card from his back pocket and begins cutting it into neat lines.

And despite how many times he’s done this, it never feels any less surreal. Why he chooses to snort drugs off of you when there’s a perfectly good coffee table less than a foot away is beyond you, but you’ve long since given up trying to make sense of the pink haired Bonten executive. All you can really hope for with Sanzu is that if you play along, you won’t get too badly hurt in the process.

A gamble at the best of times.

The leather of the sofa feels odd your bare skin, the room not quite warm enough to be comfortable, yet you’re fairly certain that it’s the way those big, blue eyes bore hungrily into your own that has your stomach tightening and goosebumps prickling at your exposed skin.

And you pretend that it doesn’t send a flood of heat rushing to your cheeks when those eyes flicker down to your breasts, nipples already pebbled, and his smirk widens.

But you only gasp, a shivery, pathetic sound, jerking in his grip – almost disturbing his carefully cut lines of cocaine – when his tongue darts out to swirl around your belly button instead.

The light slap to your face that follows doesn’t bother you nearly as much as the grating sound of his hyena-like laugh.

“I said, stay still,” he taunts, as if he wasn’t the one deliberately trying to rile you up.

You have to remind yourself that it could be worse. That he could have used the knife today, or decided he wanted to share you with the Haitani’s again. That he could just as easily tie you down and paint your skin black and blue, fuck you ‘til you pass out, make you choke on his cock or a thousand other horrible things.

He still might.

Closing your eyes, you murmur a halfhearted apology and let your head tip back as Sanzu leans over your stomach once more, this time with a finger pressing one nostril closed. The sharp snort and the drag of his nose along your skin are bad enough, but it’s the low, drawn out ‘Fuuuuck’ that leaves his lips that sends a shiver rippling down your spine.

Sanzu sniffs again, and even with your eyes shut, it’s impossible to mistake the sound of his belt unbuckling or the hiss of his zipper as he slides it down. Your heart rate picks up, anticipation and not a small amount of uneasiness unfurling inside of you, but you’re not surprised.

You’ve come to learn that Sanzu enjoys three things in life; drugs, sex and frankly terrifying displays of violence. The first two, from your experience, usually go hand in hand. From the dried remnants of blood on his clothes, flecks of it dusting his hands and his pale, scarred face, he’s already indulged in the latter this morning.

A small mercy, you suppose.

You brace yourself for his hands on your skirt, panties being ripped off, or maybe just shoved to the side if he’s feeling especially impatient, so the strange, plastic rustle that comes next takes you by surprise.

Your eyes snap open, head jerking forward just in time to see a little blue pill go into Sanzu’s mouth. And the relief that washes through you only lasts for a split second before his hand is in your hair, yanking you forward to slam his mouth against yours.

It hurts, both the sting of your scalp and the crushing force of his kiss, but the pain gives way to panic as his tongue forces its way past your lips, and you taste artificial sweetness, feel the weight of that little blue pill on your tongue.

“What the fu–”

Sanzu doesn’t let you finish the expletive, clamping his hand over your mouth and squeezing your nose shut.

“Swallow,” he leers.

The drug only takes minutes to kick in.

Warmth begins to seep through your veins. Slowly at first, matching the drag of Sanzu’s tongue along your throat, but it spreads, burns hotter until you’re shifting beneath him, soft little noises escaping you with every touch.

But they’re good noises. It feels good, the way he grabs at you, yanking your thighs apart so he can settle between them.

The press of his cock at your sopping cunt.

And it’s hard to focus, to think as the lights on the ceiling begin to dance, a dizzying haze sweeping through your head. Instead, you focus on Sanzu, the pretty pink of his hair, blue eyes blown wide and that manic, beautiful grin.

You’ve never felt more alive, every nerve ending electrified as he fucks you – you don’t care that you’re in plain view of the others, that you’re moaning and crying out like a two bit whore in a bad porno. All that matters is the delicious stretch of his cock every time he fills you, the buzzing pleasure building in your core with every frenzied thrust.

You’re chasing that high, delirious and in love, and you never want this to end.

—

‘Do you trust me?’

He’d asked you that, months ago now. Another late night, the two of you sprawled out on the old couch in your living room, mindlessly watching reruns of game shows. Or, at least, that’s what you’d been doing – your brother had come in later, bringing the food he was supposed to have brought hours ago, an odd expression on his face.

And the words had just… slipped out. He’d looked almost surprised by them, but glanced at you nevertheless to hear your response.

The answer back then had been the same as it is now; yes. Always.

How could you not, when he was your big brother? The one who protected you, who took you in after your parents left you both orphans at too young an age. He’s never been perfect – a little too rash, sometimes. Irresponsible. Childishly selfish, too, though to his credit he is trying to be better.

He wants the same as you do; a different life. A better one, where you don’t have to work for scraps and every month isn’t a struggle to make ends meet.

So yes, you trusted him. But you never asked for the details, and he never volunteered them.

And you trust him now, even as the pit of unease grows inside of you, and a thousand questions dart through your head. You did what he asked – left work when you got his frantic call, raced home to pack your things.

The only thing you’d faltered on was his last request.

“We have to leave and we have to do it quickly,” he’d told you. “We need the money more than we need those stupid rings, okay? Just… please. Do this for me.”

He was right, really. Your parents’ wedding rings may have been all that you had left of them, but if it came down to a choice of having a temporary roof over your head, and food for the next few days… well, it wasn’t much of a choice at all.

(You didn’t ask what happened to the money you already had set aside.)

That didn’t mean that watching the shopkeeper sniff disinterestedly before counting out a measly sum wasn’t like selling off a part of your soul.

You trust him, but as you return home, money in hand, and the door swings wide to reveal a dark haired stranger waiting for you in the living room, you wonder whether you should have offered that trust to him so blindly.

—

Tonight is a celebration.

For what, exactly, you’re not entirely sure. Another year of successfully flooding Tokyo with drugs and violence, maybe, more competition wiped from the map – they don’t share these things with you, and in all honesty you don’t particularly care.

The less you know about these things, the better.

Tonight, it means a black dress with a slit to your thigh and a choker at your throat that feels more like a collar. Yet it’s not some packed club in Shibuya that they take you to, but an old, abandoned warehouse down by the docks.

From the outside, the place looks like a dump, looming corrugated walls that were once white bleeding lines of rust and grime, the giant lettering out front faded and peeling. There’s not a soul in sight, the night almost eerie if not for the muted thumping of bass that creeps out from the cracked windows.

You can’t help but think back to the first and only time you’d been brought here, Sanzu and Takeomi driving you out in the early hours of the morning. Of course, it’d been different that night. You weren’t dressed up as arm candy for one, and the three of you hadn’t stayed long – just long enough to watch the weighted black bags sink quietly down into the depths of the ocean.

And you might be tempted to wonder if they had similar plans for you tonight, but the grim truth is that if they wanted you dead, they needn’t go to all that trouble. A bullet to the brain while you slept would do the job just fine. After all, they’ve made it abundantly clear by now – there’s no one left to miss you. No one left to care if your body suddenly turns up in some filthy alleyway downtown.

The thought doesn’t bother you as much as it used to.

“You remember the rules, don’t you?” Mikey asks, glancing sideways when you obediently fall into step with him.

He’s forgone his usual attire for a red suit, the colour bringing a flush of life to his normally pallid complexion. Even the dark circles around his eyes look less severe. Yet there’s something else in his expression tonight, a detached sort of… iciness that’s decidedly unsettling.

Whatever the reason they’ve come here – brought you along with them – you’re beginning to think it has very little to do with getting drunk on high end scotch.

“I remember,” you reply, taking his arm when he offers it.

And you do. Since this whole awful chapter began, you can count on one hand the number of times they’ve let you out of the tower, and the rules never change.

“I’ll be good.”

There’s a slight upturn to the corner of his mouth, but he says nothing more as Sanzu steps ahead to push the warehouse doors open.

You’re half expecting that despite the derelict appearance outside, the interior of the warehouse would be something lavish – that would account for Mikey’s suit, at least, the designer dress and heels they’ve shoved you in.

But it isn’t.

Mikey leads you in, Kakucho and Takeomi flanking either side with the others trailing behind, and the first thing you’re assaulted by is the heavy stench of smoke from cigars in the air – so thick it almost chokes you. There must be thirty or so guys inside, drinking, smoking, laughing, lounging back in their seats and hovering over poker tables.

And then there’s the women.

Young and beautiful, half naked as they flit between the men – some dancing, others balancing trays of drinks and food. You watch as one of them, a girl who could be no older than nineteen, pulled by her waist into the lap of an older man, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her thong. He doesn’t even look at her, too busy cackling with his friends over his own stupid joke.

Your stomach turns, and behind you, one of the others snickers.

Ran, you think.

Mikey, of course, doesn’t break stride. None of them do, tugging you along until three men step forward, the one in the middle – the oldest, heavyset with slicked back hair and a too wide grin – opening his arms in greeting with a short, respectful bow.

“Manjiro, my friends, welcome!”

Mikey blinks. “Junichi.”

The man – Junichi, you gather – eyes you for but a moment, dismissing you entirely as he snaps his fingers and two girls step forward with drinks in hand. “Come, let’s talk. The last shipment just arrived, and I think you’ll be more than pleased with the goods.”

Which is how, twenty minutes later, you find yourself perched on Kakucho’s lap, trying desperately to forget the terrified expressions of the women – girls – stuffed into cages, crying and sniffling and begging–

“Drink,” Kakucho murmurs, handing you a glass of amber liquor. You don’t even pause before knocking it back, wincing at the dry burn as it slides down your throat.

His knuckles graze your side, a low hum escaping him when you readjust yourself, but otherwise his attention turns back to Mikey and Junichi’s entourage. Back to the business at hand. Because that’s what this was to them; just business. Girls stolen, manipulated and lied to, forced into their brothels and onto the streets to make a quick buck.

Drugs, weapons, gambling, money laundering, murder; why not add sex trafficking to the list?

It’s not like you didn’t know this was going on, but knowing something to be true and actually having the evidence shoved in your face are two very different things. Those girls, that–

That could’ve been you.

Kakucho’s arm’s still loosely curled around your waist, but suddenly it’s stifling – too hot, too close, too smothering – and your stomach turns. He’s not even paying attention, at least, not until you start to pull away from him.

His brows knit, but he doesn’t say a word as you push to your feet, unsteady.

No, it’s Rindou, seated across from you on the other side of the table, watching you like a hawk, who pipes up, “Going somewhere?”

His bored expression betrays little, but you hear the underlying message clear enough. Keep your mouth shut, do what we say, and don’t leave our sight. The same rules they always have for you.

You can’t summon the energy to care about that right now.

“Bathroom,” you mutter, and don’t look back.

Except it isn’t the bathroom that you head to, but rather the emergency exit door that lies just beyond them. You’re not stupid enough to think you can run (there’s nowhere left for you to run to) but you need space, and air to breathe that isn’t tainted with stale smoke and too much cologne.

The cool night breeze bites at your bare skin; a thousand tiny pinpricks, but it’s a welcome discomfort. The wind that blows through your hair, the distant thrum of heavy machinery and the gentle slap of waves against the docks, even the aching pain in the balls of your feet from your heels, you hone in on them, let yourself be lost to them – even if it’s just for a minute.

You’re not an idiot, you know that one of them will come and retrieve you sooner or later, that you’ll inevitably have to listen to them chew you out, or worse, have to endure the teasing mockery while they make you apologise for breaking the rules.

But at the sound of the heavy door swinging open and footsteps echoing out, you can’t help the stinging disappointment that washes over you.

“I was coming back, I just… I just needed a minute,” you say, not even bothering to turn around.

The laugh that follows, however, isn’t a familiar one, and you jerk back around to find one of the men from inside leering at you instead. “No need to rush on my account, we got all the time in the world."

A very real trickle of fear slips down your back. You’re not so naive anymore to mistake the expression on his face as anything but pure hunger. Not so stupid as to think that if he did try coming at you, that you’d have any hope of fighting him off – not when he’s a full foot taller than you at least, and built like a tank.

He takes a single step towards you, his grin widening as you skitter backwards, almost tripping on your damn heels. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I wouldn’t hurt a pretty thing like you.”

“I-I’m not–”

Not what? Not like the girls inside? Tits out, stuffed into lacy g-strings and thigh high stockings to bend and serve Junichi’s men. Not like the girls in the cages, terrified and filthy, soon to be plied with drugs to make them nice and compliant.

He knows that. You hate yourself for even making the comparison, but the fact you’re fully dressed instead of just prancing around in your underwear should set you apart easily enough. And he had to have seen you come in with Mikey and the others, to know that you’re with them in all the ways that count.

Which, you realise with another stab of panic, means that he simply doesn’t care.

You’re with Bonten, but you’re not one of them.

Intentionally, he’s placed himself firmly between you and the door back inside, meaning that if you want to run the only option you have is the sprawling labyrinth of warehouses and shipping containers behind you. And that’s assuming you’re quicker than him.

If nothing else, you’ve learned that size doesn’t always impact speed.

You swallow tightly, legs shifting as you brace yourself to kick off your shoes and run if you have to–

“Gonna scream for help, girlie?” he calls out, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as he mirrors your stance. “They won’t hear you in there, so why don’tcha just make this easy and come to daddy.”

The words make you want to retch, but there’s no chance for you to react as the door behind him – the door to your freedom – flies open once more and a familiar figure steps out.

Kakucho’s mismatched eyes, one vermillion, the other a milky white, dart from you – shivering and terrified – to the hulking man standing only feet away, and narrow dangerously.

And if you’d bothered to glance at your would be attacker, you might have seen the way his face pales, how he straightens, hands reflexively coming up in front of his chest in a gesture of peace and apologies start to form on his lips.

But your attention is fixed on Bonten’s number three as Kakucho draws his gun from the holster hidden by his jacket, flicks off the safety, and with a casual ease that still terrifies you, shoots.

Once. Twice. Three times for good measure. The man’s dead before his bullet ridden body hits the ground.

“If you’re not careful, Mikey’s gonna put a leash on you,” Kakucho comments after a beat, stowing his sidearm and carelessly stepping over the corpse when it becomes clear to him you’re not gonna come on your own. “You don’t go anywhere without us.”

There’s a thousand things you could say in response to that, but as he grabs your jaw and forces you to meet his stare, the only words that slip from your mouth are, “Thank you.”

He almost smiles.

—

“Please– please, this…”

You look wildly from the dark haired man to the blonde sitting passively on your kitchen countertop.

“Whatever he’s done, I-I can fix it,” the words spill out faster than you can stop them.

An empty promise, to be sure – they know it as well as you do.

The taller of the two, the dark haired one with a scar slashed across his face, holds a gun in his hand. Holds it easily, comfortably, as if the weapon is merely an extension of his arm. As if he’s held it a thousand times, used it without breaking a sweat. And you know, with a sinking certainty, that whatever it is that your brother’s gotten himself mixed up in, ‘fixing it’ isn’t something that you’re going to be able to do on your own.

But you’re terrified. These strangers have broken into your home, your brother’s gone, and now there’s a gun and it’s all you can do to keep yourself from falling apart.

“I-if it’s money, I have some,” you stammer, reaching into your purse to pull out the cash from the pawn shop. “It’s only a few hundred, but–”

“Stop talking.”

Finally, the blonde speaks – and the rest of your rambling words die in your throat.

Tired, bloodshot eyes bore into yours, “Do you know who we are?” he asks.

Again, your gaze flickers between the two. Surely if your brother had mentioned either one of them, they would have made an impression, but there’s nothing.

He never told you anything, and if you’re supposed to–

“Are you deaf?” the dark haired one snaps when your petrified silence stretches too long. “Answer him.”

Wordlessly, you shake your head.

The two share a look of their own, and the blonde hops off the counter. “Unfortunate.”

He sweeps out of the room, not even sparing you a backwards glance… Leaving you alone with his terrifying friend.

Shit.

Time seems to slow, abject terror coursing through your veins as you spin back to face him, fully expecting to see the muzzle of his gun greeting you, a flash, a deafening bang–

But he hasn’t moved – the gun’s still in his hand, yes, but it hangs passively down by his side. Is this the part where you fall to your knees and beg? He hadn’t seemed moved by your pleading earlier, but just standing there mutely, shaking like a leaf while you scramble for something to do that’ll save you feels wrong too.

“Please,” you whisper, “my phone’s in my bag. Just let me call him and we can fix this, I– I can…”

There’s something in his mismatched eyes that robs you of your words. Not pity, exactly – somehow, he doesn’t strike you as the overly sympathetic type – but more a kind of grim understanding. As if he knows that whatever your brother was caught up in, you are a wholly innocent party – and it still won’t save you from what happens next.

“We’re past that now,” he mutters, holstering the gun as he marches forward to grab you by the arm. “C’mon, you’re coming with us.”

—

“Stop fucking whining, you can take it,” Rindou pants in your ear as another strangled gasp leaves you. “You always do.”

Because they never give you a damn choice.

The bathroom stalls at the bar weren’t built with three people in mind, but somehow you’re sandwiched in there between him and his brother, skirt hiked up, Rindou’s hand wrapped around your throat and your panties stuffed in Ran’s trouser pocket.

Ran fucking your cunt, and Rindou’s cock stuffed deep in your ass.

And it burns, every synchronised thrust bringing a fresh wave of searing pain. The tears come unbidden, and yet the sight of them only serves to make Ran grin, leaning down so he can lick them from your flushed face.

“Don’t be shy now, show us what a good little cock whore you are, hm? Takin’ us both like this,” he laughs, and all you can do is whimper when his lips crash roughly against yours.

It’s hardly the first time they’ve fucked you together like this, but back home there’s usually some kind of prep– not since the early days have they split you open without a care. Tonight, however, they’re on a tight schedule. Something about a meeting, a late dinner with the boss, the exact reason they’d given escaping you.

‘Just a quickie,’ Ran had promised with a wink when they’d cornered you on your way out of the bathroom, shoving you back into the seedy cubicle before you could so much as try to protest.

Rindou’s grip tightens, cutting off your air supply and making you jolt and jerk and writhe on their cocks, because between them you can barely stand. And every snap of their hips and the lewd, wet, squelching sound that accompanies it sends you closer and closer to the edge.

It hurts, fuck it hurts more than you remember, but as Ran’s hand slips down to where your bodies meet, and those calloused fingertips graze at your clit, your whole body shudders and shakes.

Dark spots begin to appear in the corners of your vision. You’re screaming, or moaning maybe – the choked noises are hard to decipher as your fingers claw at Ran’s back, trembling on your tippy toes when their rhythm starts to falter and instead they settle on a brutal pace to chase their own ends, fucking you deep and hard and fast.

It’s too much, you can’t breathe, and yet when Rindou’s teeth sink into your shoulder and Ran’s cock hits that sweet bundle of nerves that has you convulsing around them both, a wave of pleasure slams into you so hard that for a second there, you’re almost positive you pass out.

Neither one of them lasts long after that; the younger Haitani hammering into your asshole, cursing up a storm as thick, hot ropes of cum paint your insides, his older brother following only moments behind.

And you – oxygen deprived, stuffed to the brim and half delirious with the potent mix of pain and pleasure – tumble off that precipice right along with them.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Rindou’s grip eases off your neck after a moment. “Knew you fuckin’ liked it,” he snickers, pulling himself free. “Our little pain slut.”

Gulping down heaving breaths, you ignore him, choosing instead to collapse against the stall wall, closing your eyes and waiting for your racing heart to calm.

“She always does,” Ran agrees, and you ignore that too.

Already, you can feel their cum beginning to seep down your thighs, dripping down onto the tiled floor. Unfortunately for you, your underwear’s currently balled up in Ran’s pocket.

Swallowing down the last scraps of your dignity, you begin to turn to the older Haitani sibling to plead for them back when, with an audible bang, the door to the bathroom slams open.

Shit.

You freeze, eyes widening as footsteps approach your cubicle–

“Hey, shitheads,” Koko’s voice calls, and the burst of relief that washes over you is palpable. “We’re leaving, hurry the fuck up.”

He doesn’t wait for a reply, footsteps receding and the heavy door swinging shut behind him.

“You heard the man,” Ran says, grinning all too smugly as he smoothes down the front of your skirt. “Fix yourself up, princess. Can’t keep the boss waiting.”

—

He’ll come for you.

Your brother is going to come.

The words are like a mantra, repeating them over and over again the only thing that keeps you from shattering completely when you lie down on that lumpy old mattress and will yourself to sleep after another night of being used and fucked and hurt for their pleasure.

He’s going to come and get you out of here, and the two of won’t ever look back.

… It’s been weeks now, hasn’t it? You’ve lost count of the days, one bleeding right into the next. A never-ending cycle.

Maybe you’ll start somewhere fresh, move to the countryside and find a job working at a bakery or a little shop – anything to put distance between you and this. You won’t ever have to wake up and wonder what fresh horrors are in store for you, whether today will be the day that one of them will finally reach their limit and end it–

He’ll come.

He’ll come.

He’ll come.

The tears arrive unbidden, silently streaming down your cheeks and seeping into your pillow while you shake fitfully with tiny sobs. So lost hurtling between misery and raw, flickering hope, that you don’t even hear the door, don’t realise that you’re no longer alone – at least, not until the light switches on.

“You’re not still crying, are you?” Ran – still wearing his three piece suit despite the late hour – asks mockingly, crouching down over your mattress.

You don’t reply as he pushes your hair back to revel in your red eyed, teary expression, but the watery glare you shoot him is answer enough.

His grin widens.

“Aw,” he tuts, “and here I thought you’d be happy to see me, especially when I come with a surprise. We brought it here just for you!”

You tense at that word, surprise, eyeing him warily, “What do you mean?”

Ran’s eyes glitter, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve been here weeks now, months even – long enough to know that his idea of a surprise likely won’t bode well for you.

Then again, it doesn’t matter whether you’ll like this surprise or not, because Ran’s already straightening up, beckoning for you to follow with that same cruel smirk.

And you’ve learned by now that it’s easier, less painful, when you do as you’re told, so you quickly scamper to follow him.

He leads you to the elevator, presses the button for the 28th floor, and when the doors open again, you’re surprised to find that unlike the upper floors, this one’s hollowed out. Unfinished. Paint markers still on the walls, fluorescent lights flickering from the exposed ceiling above.

As if the construction crew had simply given up halfway through.

Your stomach twists into a knot. Something is wrong.

Ran steps out of the elevator smoothly, offering you his arm when you make no move to do the same. “Don’t wanna keep ‘em waiting,” he says with a wink.

On shaking legs, you reluctantly trudge after him. But as he leads you down a corridor, and the muffled sounds begin to get louder, clearer, and you hear grunting and laughter – someone howling in agony – you falter, tugging at his arm.

“Ran…”

“Shh,” he says, long fingers encircling your wrist and tightening painfully, “you’re gonna be good and stay nice and quiet. Can’t spoil the surprise now, can we?”

Even if you wanted to back out now, and damn the consequences, his grip on you is tight and you’re not strong enough to pull yourself free. So you walk with him, cold dread mounting with every feeble step.

The reasons for which become apparent as you round the corner of the hallway and the space suddenly opens up. There, in the middle of the empty room are three people. Sanzu, Rindou and a third bound to a chair, head hanging low and impossible to mistake–

Your brother.

The desperate noise that claws its way up your throat is smothered by Ran’s hand clamping over your mouth, his arm snaking around your waist to anchor you in place when you try to run for him. “What’d I tell you about being quiet, hmm?” he purrs, his nose nudging at your temple. “We’re just here to watch.”

And while both Sanzu and Rin meet your wide eyed, horrified gaze with amusement, your brother’s facing away from you, slumped over as much as the thick rope bindings will allow.

At the sound of your arrival, however, he stiffens, struggling to lift his head.

“Huh? W-who’s there?” he slurs. Before he can so much as turn, Rindou’s fist slams into the side of his face with a sickening thwack. Your brother grunts, spitting out a mix of blood and spit, and much to your horror, a tooth as the younger Haitani leans down to grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his face back up to sneer at him.

“Pay attention. We’re not done yet.”

But it’s Sanzu who takes the lead when Rindou shoves your brother off in disgust. “You can’t just fuck Bonten over like that, run off and think we won’t come after ya. Have you forgotten who the fuck we are?” he asks.

Your brother heaves in a ragged breath, shaking his head. “No, no, I didn’t– I gave–”

Another blow, this time to his nose, and he bellows out in agony as the cartilage cracks gruesomely and blood sprays.

Your stomach churns, a strangled cry of your own swallowed up by Ran’s palm – but you hear his laugh, soft as a lover’s touch if not for its malicious edge.

He’s enjoying this, you realise, tormenting you by hurting him. They all are.

They’ve fucked you, used you, hurt you. Made you beg and bleed and moan for them, but through it all, you don’t think you’ve ever felt the same bitter, seething hatred that you do right now.

“Gave what?” Sanzu presses, blue eyed gaze darting up to meet yours as that unsettling grin of his widens.

It takes a moment for your brother to answer him, a steady drip of blood seeping down his face as he waits for the pain to subside enough to speak. “Money,” he pants. “And– and her. My sister.”

The words don’t hit you right away. You can’t make sense of them, they–

They don’t make sense.

You don’t realise that you’ve gone completely still in Ran’s arms, that everyone else in the room, save your brother, is watching as your brain tries fruitlessly to process what you’ve just heard.

My sister… My sister…

My sister.

… No.

That– that can’t be right. You mustn’t have heard him correctly, he can’t have meant what you think he does…

He was going to meet you at the apartment.

He told you that he was going to meet you there, you just had to go and sell off the rings first. He– he was going to meet you there. You were going to leave together, but he got held up – that’s why he wasn’t there when you came back from the pawn shop.

He wouldn’t have sold you out, he wouldn’t have just left you… would he?

There’s a sound in your ears, a dull roar growing louder and louder by the second until it drowns out everything else. You’re shaking, you realise, trembling against Ran as you stare mutely at your brother, your supposed protector.

He gave you up?

“And what, ya think a few grand and some stupid slut was enough to wipe your debt?”

The backhanded insult slides right over you, lost to the pounding in your chest, the black, bitter nausea you feel clawing up your throat.

“Fine,” your brother spits, more blood splattering the concrete. “A peace offering then.”

A… a peace offering?

Ran’s murmuring something in your ear, but you can’t make sense of it, not as hot tears finally spill over and your legs start to give way.

He catches you, of course, lets you cling to him like a lifeline. But the hand that strokes your hair tightens and yanks, forcing you to turn back and watch.

Watch as Sanzu’s manic grin fades away, becomes something cold and predatory as he turns back to the table full of tools and takes up his revolver.

You know what’s coming.

Know it, but can’t make yourself move, can’t force a sound that isn’t a sob from your lips when Sanzu raises the gun and jams it against his forehead.

And as your brother starts to blabber, desperate, hoarse pleas spilling from his lips, Sanzu scoffs.

“Fuckin’ pathetic.”

BANG!

—

The sound of the lock turning draws you from your mindless boredom.

You briefly glance over, long enough to see Mikey slip silently through the door, before going back to staring out the lavish, floor to ceiling windows of his bedroom.

The clock on the wall tells you that it’s still early, but already the sun’s setting over the city, golden light bathing the towering skyscrapers. All your life you’ve lived in Tokyo, and yet before they’d brought you here, you’d never seen the city you loved from a bird's eye view like this.

So beautiful, the sky awash with pink and peach hues and scattered cirrus clouds. So… serene looking. The streets below, the thriving hustle and bustle you grew up in, it’s a world away now, the people down there little more than ants scurrying about.

Mikey hasn’t moved, watching you wordlessly from the doorway. Waiting, no doubt, for you to acknowledge him beyond that first cursory glance.

“You’ve been gone for hours,” you murmur eventually.

“I know.”

Distantly, you nod, drawing your knees up close to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Still refusing to look at him. “You locked me in here.”

“I know,” he repeats, and that last vestige of lingering doubt that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t meant to leave you trapped in here when he left goes up in smoke.

And you’d thought that you were spent, all that anger and panic and broken desperation used up hours ago when you’d banged your fists against the door and screamed yourself hoarse.

Even then, you think you’d known the truth, but to hear him admit it with such… such indifference, as if locking you up like an animal is nothing, all those emotions bubble up to the surface once more. Your fists clench, blood pounding and fingernails biting into the palm of your hand and you have to force yourself to stop and breathe for a moment, to calm down enough that you won’t do or say something you’ll regret.

Because you forget sometimes, just exactly who Mikey is and what he’s capable of.

A good thing too, because when you finally deign to turn around and face him, you’re hit with the realisation that something’s off about him tonight. He hasn’t moved so much as an inch, but it’s more than that. There’s a sort of preternatural stillness about him as he stares, an emptiness in his expression that makes the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

As quickly as your anger had come, it recedes, a cold pit forming in its wake.

“Mikey,” you begin, your tone softer as you slide from the same bed he left you in this morning. “Why? I woke up and you were gone and the door was locked and I couldn’t get out. I– was it… did I do something wrong?”

There’s a slight twitch in his jaw, but otherwise his expression doesn’t waver as you pad across the floor to him. He reminds you of a cornered animal, tensed and volatile, dark, tired eyes fixed on your every move when you tentatively reach for him, fingers featherlight as they cup his cheek.

Mikey relaxes, shutting his eyes and leaning ever so slightly into the touch. The knot in your chest slowly loosens at the sight, and you can barely hold back your sigh of relief.

Good, you think, you can work with this.

“It wasn’t a punishment,” he mutters.

“Then why?”

His eyes snap open, “So you wouldn’t go wandering.”

You jolt back at the sudden bitterness in his tone, the hand you have on his cheek slowly falling back to your side, “Mikey–”

His expression darkens, “Have you forgotten that I own you? You’re mine,” he snarls quietly. “I don’t owe you shit, and if I wanna make sure you stay where I fucking left you, you should be thankful I don’t just chain you to the bed.”

You shake your head desperately, scrambling backwards towards the bed. “No, t-that’s not what–”

“Shut up,” he snaps. “You still don’t get it. The only reason you’re not rotting away six feet under right now is because I let you live. You’re not here to settle a traitor’s debt, you’re here because your life belongs to me. You belong to me.”

He closes the distance between you in an instant, cornering you up against the bed frame. One harsh shove and you’re falling onto the mattress with a yelp, the air knocked from your lungs. Mikey doesn’t waste a beat, clambering up after you and yanking at the silk robe you’d thrown on that morning, tearing it from you before turning his attention to his own clothes.

“Mikey, please, just wait–” you gasp, only to fall silent at the dark glare he levels at you.

Grabbing you by the hips, he roughly flips you – ignoring your undignified yelp – drawing your ass back up until you’re on your knees, face shoved into the sheets. You only try to rise to your hands the once – he shoves you back down with a muted growl, one hand curling around the back of your neck to keep you in place.

Stay down.

And you suppose that you should be grateful that he takes a moment to spit on your cunt, before he lines his cock up and sinks himself inside of you.

You don’t know how long he fucks you for, how many rounds he goes, only that by the time he finally pulls out, spent and panting, the sky’s an inky black and every inch of your body aches.

He doesn’t say a word as he collapses beside you, but truthfully you don’t expect him to. Whatever it is that’s just occurred between you two, it’s changed something fundamental. Broken something, and even as you lie there mutely trying to comprehend it, you realise on some instinctive level that there’s no fixing this now, no going back.

But Mikey isn’t the only one utterly spent. There’s no tears left for you to shed tonight, and you’ve no energy to fight it when, after a minute or so, he lets out a frustrated grunt and pulls you close, shifting until you’re lying nestled against his side.

In the darkness of his room, no noise but the soft sounds of your breath and the warmth of Mikey’s body next to yours, drifting off to sleep should be easy. And yet, despite all that, and the bone tired exhaustion weighing you down, you find yourself oddly awake, staring once more out the massive windows.

Watching as a soft blanket of white snow begins to cover Tokyo.

BLACKMAIL KISS — h. ran

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a single night of rebellion against your husband, the mayor of Tokyo, in an underground Roppongi club, traps you right in Haitani Ran's web of blackmail and deceit—where every move you make could potentially be your last one.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── a bonten!haitani ran miniseries inspired by hametsu no itte

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bonten timeline, fem!reader, wife!reader, reader is feminine coded (wears dresses, heels, makeup), heavy angst, heavy tones of cheating/infidelity, D@RK CONTENT, blackmail, political drama, non-con recording, drügging, mentions of alcohol & drügs, D*m/s*b dynamics, non-c0n -> dub-c0n, expl!cit photos, canon typical v!olence, corruption k!nk, unprotected s*x, n!pple play, sh/ibari, B/D/S/M, voyeurism, edg!ng training, tease and den!al, org@sm control, phone s*x, smok!ng, publ!c play, g@gs, impact p!ay, pr@ise + degradation, roleplay (forced prost!tuition), mentions of conceiving, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of m!scarriage, pet names (baby, love, slüt), collars, b0dy writing, throat fücking, d@ddy kink, sp!t play, finger!ng, or@l s*x, rindou is a simp for his girlfriend, süspension p!ay, publ!c s*x, n!pple clamps, mentions of v!brators, overstimulat!on, k!dnapping, tortüre, more tags to be added...

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── bittersweet blackmail with this playlist

{{𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐗}}

#1: i made another mistake

#2: the way you bend, the way you break

#3: when the curtains call the time

#4: will we both be satisfied?

#5: love's the death of peace of mind

#6: will we both go home alive?

#7: i miss the way you say my name

... more tba

{ rbs to boost are appreciated !! }

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy the concept, sentence structures and scenes without prior permission from the creator.

𐑺 ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 — 𝒯𝐻𝐸 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸 𝒴𝒪𝒰 𝒲𝒜𝒩𝒯

it’s almost rare for the student counsellor to actually give…. counselling. but maybe yuuta’s life will start looking up now that he’s found something to protect.

RETURN TO MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

summary. university / college au. fem reader. yandere nerd yūta. jock yuuji. aged up characters. manipulation. obsession. bullying. violence. unrequited feelings. gojo is student councillor. a little introduction to jujutsu high. this chapter is from yūta’s perspective. wc, 3.8k.

note. first chapter of the series + it’s just getting us started but i’m really excited about this :) most of moving into my apartment is basically done so i’m so happy to finally be able to put more time back into writing again this weekend, enjoy !!!

“bullies, huh? this is unusual.” the pocky between gojo’s teeth crunches as he speaks, swinging the half finished, pink stick around in the air as his long legs stretch over his desk. “you rarely come to me for advice, okkotsu yuuta.”

he’s out of options, yuuta knows that — but still he came here, to the student counsellor, even though he knows he can’t get involved, he can’t help him. it’s made even worse by the fact that they’re apparently related in some twisted, confusing way that he doesn’t care too much about to pry more into. but has he really got anybody else to turn to at this point? he’ll take any advice he can get right now, no matter how useless.

“have you.. ever been bullied?” yuuta’s voice is quiet as he speaks, pulling nervously at the already stretched sleeves of his sweater. it’s a little more oversized than it’s intended to be — probably to do with him fidgeting with the fabric, it was a bad habit. the neckline hangs loose around his collarbones, sleeves covering his hands slightly as he rests at the other side of gojo’s desk.

they pick on that too, the way he dresses — the way he looks. they pick on everything. he’s brought back from his thoughts by gojo snorting at his question, like he’s just told him a joke instead of confided in him.. like it’s not his job to comfort him.

“pffff— course not. i’m too strong and handsome for that.” another crunch from the pocky inbetween the snowy haired counsellors fingers and yuuta feels his eye twitch.

“i thought you were supposed to make me feel better—“ he really was a lousy counsellor. isn’t his job to make students feel better? he’s flippant and doesn’t seem like a teacher but there’s slight moments, where you can see that he cherishes watching after the students, guiding them to be their best despite the way all of this really serves as his own form of entertainment.

but right now, yuuta’s still waiting for that part of him to show.

gojo snorts as he shakes the now empty pocky box in his hand, sighing dramatically when he realises he’s just swallowed the last pink coated stick before he’s pushing himself forward with a pout on his lips. his elbows rest on the desk as his huge figure looms closer, looking over his dark rimmed frames at yuuta before he hums his next words. “but, the problem is your mindset.”

another sigh and the student councillor lazily throws the empty snack packet into the bin on the other side of the room, still managing to make it into the small tin can with frightening accuracy despite the lazy throw. but he looks smug as his long arms stretch to cross behind his head, ruffling the snowy peaks of his hair slightly. “you can’t imagine a stronger future version of yourself. you think this’ll be your fate forever, right?”

the statement makes yuuta shift on his seat, swallowing as his gaze remains on his teacher. he’s gotten his attention now, he can hear his chair squeak as he moves and the tone of his voice is more serious now than the usual playful, aloof air his words normally carry.

“ah, well. it’s not too late for you to change that. maybe find something to protect, hm?” gojo hums the words like the answer is obvious, like this is what he should’ve done all along. the grin on his lips looks accomplished, almost all-knowing and it makes yuuta gape at him slightly as he tries to decipher what that even means.

“but.. what about the—“ he begins, to get a little more— something to help him.. because what does he mean something to protect? like a bodyguard? or… or does he mean something more valuable? but his words are cut off when the looming figure of his councillor pushes himself to stand.

“oh well! don’t you think that was a good session, okkotsu~?” gojo stretches as he speaks, singing his words as he returns to his usual demeanour and yuuta looks as confused as he feels as he stares up at him, wide eyed— like he’s just been beaten by a common enemy when he was only a step away from the final boss.

“w-wait, i—“ his words try to come out all at once as he hurries to stand, almost fumbling slightly with his backpack while he tries to keep his councillors attention. he wasn’t done yet, he still had so much to ask, so much to talk about, he—

“don’t mind, i’ve got faith in you, yuuta. just.. don’t let it get to you, yeah?” gojo’s hand is warm when it rests on yuuta’s shoulder but the force of it is surprising when he’s ushering him towards the door. the expression on his face is annoyingly bright compared to the gloom that coats yuuta, like an aura that’s wrapped around him— his very own personal rain cloud and he feels like he’s suddenly forgotten his umbrella.

“but—“ he tries again but he stumbles with his next step, almost dropping his papers for his next class.

“ahhh~ looks like it’s about my lunch break, sorry about that. remember what i said, hm? give it your best, make sure you get along with everyone.” gojo gives him another grin as he claps his hands together, singing his words like it’s meant as his own little insufferable, motivational cheer.

“ah— but i.. i wasnt….“ yuuta doesn’t manage to finish the remainder of his sentence as the door closes, the latter of his words drifting into nothing more than a unintelligible whisper as his hands fall by his sides “… done.” he sighs as he brushes back his hair from his face, shoulders slumping as his already messed up belongings scatter along the hallway at his feet.

as if the day could get any worse.

but still, he can’t help but continue thinking about gojo’s words despite how little help they serve him right now. he’s still unsure what he meant by that, should he be looking for something? is this supposed to be a game or some weird scavenger hunt… hes never really had much trust in the snowy haired teacher to begin with, but still….

yuuta sighs as he drops to his knees to pick up the pages that have scattered from his notebook, it was already messed up anyway — from his previous run in with the older students who have been picking on him since the year started. the writing is almost faded completely from being flushed, pages crisping and curling as they dry, stuffing it into his bag won’t make much of a difference when it’s already ruined.

but he still manages to push himself to stand as the bell rings.

the walk back to class is as somber as ever, he’s late, albeit not by any fault of his own, but if anything— he’s glad that the hallways are clear and he’s left to mind his own business this time. he wishes he could spend the rest of the school year like this, unbothered… in silence…. left alone. is it really okay for someone like him to even go to school? all he seems to do is cause trouble for others, would anyone notice if he stopped coming?

“okkotsu yuuta, you’re here.” the way the teacher draws out yuuta’s name is sympathetic, pitiful as he knocks politely on the classroom door and she takes in his appearance. he’s disheveled, notes sticking out of his bag in a mess of dyed paper and she’d scold any other student— but not him. not when she looks at him like he’s got enough on his plate already. there’s nothing wrong with him, he was simply a loner, he didn’t need people’s sympathy for that.

but still it’s humiliating, the walk to his desk— third row from the back and his backpack is loud as it hits the floor, followed by the squeak of his seat as he drops into it with an awkward sorry that earns him a few sharp looks from the seats infront. he really wants this day to be over, this class, this week.

yuuta fumbles with his glasses as he takes them out of their case, trying to move quietly albeit clumsily by nature as he quickly tries to keep up with the notes. the teacher nor the class were going to wait for him to stop feeling sorry for himself, so he throws himself into his work— like he always does. it’s why he’s the top student afterall, not that that did anything for his already shaky reputation amongst everyone else. a loner and a nerd…. great.

“psst..” the low sound goes unheard as he scribbles onto the soaked paper of his notepad, pushing back his mused bangs again as focuses on his work. there’s barely ten minutes of class left and he has to make up for the rest he just missed, he could stay during lunch maybe… it’s not like he has plans, he normally ate alone so he should be able to—

“pssst, hey! do you want to borrow my notes?” the call is louder this time but still hushed and despite the day he’s had, yuuta would still recognise your voice anywhere— he’d recognise you anywhere.

you were his classmate.

you’re pretty, really pretty— like the sun, all bright smiles and kindness but you’re well liked, loved really. you’re the girl in the corridor that will always get a wave or a grin from anyone passing by, teacher or student, you’ll stop to chat about people’s day, you know everyone by name— that’s just who you are. you’re popular, friendly, sociable.. you’re everything yuuta isn’t, but you still notice to him, albeit the words exchanged are short and nothing too in-depth but he’s began to savour those fleeting interactions,

and to say he had acquired a crush on you would be… an understatement. it was unavoidable afterall, innocent infatuation was all it was, but you were.. you. you practically have everyone falling at your feet already, he’s no exception.

“o-oh… uh, no it’s fine. i can read these.” his voice cracks when he lets his face lift to meet your gaze and he feels his cheeks burn when you hold him there, smiling at him with such a familiarity that he almost feels his lungs tremble on his next inhale as he suddenly looks away shyly.

yuuta swallows loudly as he tries to busy himself with something else, pulling at the already stretched sleeves of his oversized sweater, sifting through his notes on his desk. you’re still turned round in your seat, fourth from the back and immediately infront of him and he can feel you looking at him.

“but they’re all faded, wait— i have mine right here, you can just give me them back tomorrow or whenever you’re done.” you were so kind, your voice is bright when you speak again, you don’t shy away from interacting with him despite his awkward demeanour, his social skills may be lacking but you still speak to him like you’ve known him for years despite the way you only share a few classes, different majors. you must’ve noticed his notes when he walked into the room, you were considerate like that… observant, you were perfect.

“ah— really, its.. it’s fine.” yuuta still can’t look at you, not without feeling like his heart is going to break out of his ribs and crawl it’s way to you.

“come on, i insist, okkotsu. here you go, they’re right here.” the way you say his name makes his chest squeeze and his cheeks burn. his eyes flutter up to you slightly as you reach forward to grab something from your desk before sliding it onto his, letting him see the class notes that he’s been struggling to catch up on due to his….. meeting with the councillor earlier.

“t-thanks… um, i’ll give them back to you later. it won’t take me long, i can copy them over lunch.” yuuta’s fingertips curl against the paper as he takes it from you, pulling it closer as his drowsy gaze scans the pages— it’s like your handing him a part of yourself.

“no rush, it’s fine!” you giggle as you respond to him and he’s always liked the sound of your laugh, it’s different to his— it’s bright and pretty, it’s beautiful.. it suits you. he pushes his glasses up his nose as he gives you another look, something close to a smile twitches at the corner of his flushed cheeks whenever his eyes lift to meet yours. so instead he chooses to focus on the paper infront of him as he tries to quell his increasing heart rate.. and it does, for a moment.

your writing is really pretty, yuuta doesn’t wonder if you’re watching him now, he’s too transfixed with tracing his finger over the raised paper, following the lines drawn by your hands as he feels something warm and bloom in his chest. you’ve used a bright coloured pen, doodled cutely at the corners, curled your words prettily— it’s exactly how he expected your handwriting to look.

“hm?” you hum curiously and your lashes flutter with your next blink as you look at him kindly.

“ah.. nothing, sorry.. just, thank you.” he hadn’t meant to even speak it at all, so the realisation that he’d said it out loud— infront of you of all people, makes him flush even brighter. yuuta’s cheeks have probably taken a noticeably red tone and if you notice, you don’t say anything— not wanting to point out his discomfort or embarrass him further as he lets his head hang lower in the hopes of hiding it. you were just kind like that. it’s not fair, how was he supposed to not fall in love with you?

love…. was that really what this was?

you offer him a no problem and another smile before you turn back around in your seat again. but he already misses having your attention on him as he fidgets slightly with your notes on his desk.

yuuta’s not sure what takes over him, hes probably still blushing— reeling from your interaction and the fact that you gave him your notes but he decides to try it for himself, to lean forward in your desk and talk to you a little more. there’s still so much more to talk about, to learn from you, even if you could just look at him again. just once.

“um, hey..” his voice still sounds quietly despite the way he’s hyping himself up in his mind, his words have always had a sort of gentle, kind tone compared to his other classmates. the characteristic only seeming to aid him being drowned out in discussions or class conversations until he opts to stop speaking entirely. so you don’t hear him and he finds himself looking around the class to make sure nobody notices before he tries again.

“hey.” yuuta leans closer this time, over his desk as he tries not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. but still— you’re scribbling away in your notebook, half-listening to whatever your desk mate is telling you about and still not noticing him as he breathes out a long, sort of humiliated sigh.

but his next attempt is successful, albeit hard to ignore when he chooses to tap hesitantly on your shoulder before flinching away when you turn to face him. he’s suddenly warm again, but you’re smiling before he can even say anything and suddenly he’s not as confident as he was a second ago.

“sorry, uh— did you finish the homework assignment? i heard you talking with sensei yesterday, that you were having trouble..” yuuta’s learned a lot from your conversations with your friends and teachers, you speak a little loudly afterall. it’s not that he’s listening it’s just.. that he happens to be there, in the corridor or just passing by the open class door. he once read that to be loved is to be known, right? and you’re friends, kinda, even though he may be crushing on you or kinda in love with you but… it’s normal for him to want to know your favourite food and your preferred route to commute home, your favourite breakfast food, your ideal date… that’s what anyone would do for something they like, isn’t it?

his eyes widen as he realises how you might’ve taken what he said, he doesn’t want to lose you, not when you’re finally making progress. “but i—i wasn’t meaning to eavesdrop or anything, i just—“

you don’t comment on yuuta’s fumble, he wonders if you even noticed it when you reply light heartedly, “ah, you heard that? it’s kinda embarrassing but yeah, i just couldn’t figure out one of the questions. have you completed yours?” your elbow rests on his desk as you turn, propping your head up to blink at him and you feel so close he wonders if you’d flinch away if he reached out to touch you.

“yeah.. i— uh, finished mine already.” truth be told, he finished it the day he received it, this was his thing, it was all he had. the homework was easy, although he finds it adorable that you tend to struggle with things like this.. one of your quirks that he’s picked up on… it makes him think as his eyes widen slightly with a dull realisation.

“you’re always so on time, i wish i had your motivation it’s so impressive, okkotsu.” you’re smiling at him again, at him as you lean back in your seat and the look alone almost gives yuuta the confidence he needs to speak his sudden idea into existence as he tries to sit up straighter.

“if…. um,” he begins as he scratches at the back of his neck and you hang onto his words, really listening to him like he has you caught up in a story that you’re so eager to hear the end of, “if you need help, if.. if you want.. i can h-help y—“

“babe!” yuuta’s sentence is drowned out by the sudden call from the doorway to the classroom as it swings open loudly, making you and half of the class jolt in their seats as you whip around to face the source of the sound. it’s followed by a peek of pink, messy hair as itadori leans himself into view, commanding all of the attention in the room despite the way he’s only looking at you with a bright grin.

“i’ll get you here, okay? i got outta practice early!” his hand points to just outside the classroom as he rests his body weight in the doorway. his hair is damp slightly, most likely from a shower in the training room and his team varsity hugs him cozily as he makes himself comfortable staring in at you. it’s almost like he forgets where he is completely until the teacher’s bark from the front of the class brings him back.

“itadori yuuji, get out. you’re not part of this class.”

“sorry, sensei! my bad!” itadori’s reply earns him a few chuckles from your classmates as he raises his arms up to apologise, but it earns him an eye roll from yuuta as he watches him bow before enthusiastically closing the door again.. after giving you another bright smile ofcourse.

itadori yuuji, is captain of the jujutsu sorcerers football team, a sports scholarship student and unfortunately.. your boyfriend. he is charming, he’ll give him that much, he’s handsome too, funny— depending on who you ask but before all that, he’s .. stupid and yuuta hates that about him.

you deserve someone better than that, someone who will take care of you, make a home for you— all your boyfriend has going for him is his muscled frame, insane strength, good connections… but his grades are bad, horrible. that’s why he relies on you to help him study, to make sure he doesn’t get kicked off the team and lose his spot as captain. it’s not fair that he puts so much pressure on you but you just laugh like it’s no big deal, offering him help like he’s not just using you.

sure, he’s never been particularly unkind to him personally.. or anyone at all, but isn’t stealing his love enough to justify his feelings towards him?

what’s even more annoying is you apologise for your boyfriend when the teacher raises an eyebrow in your direction. when you shouldn’t be apologising, itadori’s an idiot but you’re smiling and yuuta hates that. it’s different to the ones you give him, it’s toothier and brighter — like it’s dripping with affection, love, and suddenly you’re desperate to get out of class, to steal another look at your dumb oaf of a boyfriend who’s laugh you can still hear through the door as he jokes with the vice captain, todo. he’s taken your attention from him, stolen it so selfishly.

people always refer to you both as the ‘it couple’ on campus— he hears the whispers, the way people fawn over you both, saying how cute you are, how it’s like something out of a romance manga whenever they see you. you attend all of his games— wearing his jersey, he walks you to class, waits for you after school. don’t you find him annoying? he’s always there, always with you, always holding you—kissing you… don’t you think that’s unfair? what about everyone else, what about him?

you don’t even turn back around to let yuuta finish his question after he was interrupted and the bell rings before he can touch you again to continue it, you’re in such a rush to see itadori that even when you call back a quick see ya, okkotsu! you don’t even stick around to hear him reply as his “y-yeah, see you.” goes lost in the air like smoke.

you barely even look at yuuta as he begins to sort through your notes on his desk, handling them like they’re made of glass— fragile beneath his touch and he wonders if you feel as soft, he wishes he could’ve felt your skin when he reached for you earlier. he doesn’t think it’s fair at all that his crush seems to have one of her own, like he’s the second love interest but not the male lead that gets the girl in the shoujo and he hates it. he hates him.

but somehow, when he goes to slot the paper carefully between the pages of his notepad— his dark gaze is drawn to the curl of your name, the way it’s signed with a scribbled love heart and he finds his fingertips reaching to trace along the pretty letters once more. yuuta’s not sure what prompts it, but suddenly he feels like he’s back in that office again, shifting uncomfortably on his chair at the other side of the counsellors desk as his words echo.

something to protect, right? what’s that if not something to own, something that’s his.

yuuta thinks he may have found that already.

© gojoath. do not copy, repost, modify or translate my works. please refrain from copying my layouts / themes.

Teaser: Streams & Sheets 🔞 | JJK

Word Count: 10k+ words (im sry) Pairings: gamer!jungkook x reader Genre: gaming au, slice of life, established relationship

Summary: Nobody expected famous twitch streamer JJK to trend online when his mysterious girlfriend accidentally makes a cameo in one of his livestreams. The chaotic problem in question? You streamed a live sex tape. ( kofisips' masterlist )

Warnings: the holy trinity (smut, angst & fluff), dom!jungkook, long haired jungkook in a man bun and brow piercing, jungkook with his alphabet username (rip), unprotected sex, creampie, degrading, oral (f & m receiving), face fucking, multiple orgasm, slut shaming, dacryphilia, ass play, online humiliation, mentions of unsure breakup that's not clear with the characters, over thinking, slight ddlg

read: reply to this post or send an ask to be included in the taglist :)

As he takes a sip from his coffee, he hears your huffs and struggles to open the strawberry jam you wanted on your toast. He doesn’t intervene just yet, he stays quiet and waits for you to finally give up.

Mentally, he counts from one to three, then you turned your head and faced him with a pout, whispering his name in a soft voice, “Koo?” Your eyes emulated like that of a doe, “Can you help me out?”

“Alright, give it to me,” he chuckles, reaching for the jar and twisting it open with ease. Handing you the strawberry jam, he smiles as he watches you spread it on your toast merrily, “Anything else my baby wants?”

You hum as you thought, “Hmm, a cup of tea would be nice.”

Jungkook will never admit this, but he loves it when you ask for his help.

No matter how big or small it is, he’s willing to do anything you ask of him. Just call him in those three simple letters and he will literally cross an ocean just to help you out. Running errands is also just a breeze for him all because he knows you’d be needing help in reaching the high shelves or simply carrying anything you bought.

As selfish as it sounds, he adores the way he feels needed by you. He’s fine being called pussy whipped, the guy just loved taking good care of you.

During the first half of your relationship, he may or may not have gone overboard in looking after you. It came to a point where you felt somehow too dependent on him even when he says he doesn’t mind at all.

“Koo, I have hands,” you say sternly, pulling your heavy luggage away from his grip. Raising both of your hands in the air, you move it closer to his face, “See? I have two!”

“Baby, can’t you see this is too heavy for you to carry?” He retorts, not letting go of the handle.

For the rest of the ride to Busan, you stayed quiet. Too quiet for Jungkook’s liking. He would spare you a glance from time to time but not once did you ever meet his gaze. He didn’t understand why you had such a sour mood over a mere luggage, especially not when he’s always done things for you even when you don’t ask. 

When the silence was too much for him to bear, he finally spoke to you first, “Baby.” You finally looked at him, alright, but with an annoyed glare. “It wasn’t a big deal. I was just trying to help.”

“Not a big deal?” Your tone is slightly raised, making his forehead crease. He knows you’re about to call him by his government name next, “Jungkook, you’re always doing things for me, which I appreciate, but I can’t…I can’t keep feeling like a burden all the time.”

His eyes widened at your sudden outburst, “I– Y/N, I never meant for you to feel that way.” He reached for your hand, but not grabbing it. All he does is graze his finger over your knuckles soothingly, “I’m sorry if me constantly helping you made you feel like a burden, but I swear I just love to do things for you.”

Looking at how apologetic he truly was, there was no way you could stay mad at him. Letting out a sigh, you scoot closer to him and rest your head on his shoulder, “I understand, Koo. Just…just let me do things on my own and step in when I call for you.”

Bringing the back of your hand to his lips, he leaves a soft kiss and smiles against your skin, “Okay, love. Sounds fair.”

His favorite part of the day ever since the both of you had decided to live together was waking up entangled in silk sheets and seeing your face first thing in the morning. If there's any scent he can attribute to you, it would be the smell of coffee and cinnamon. 

That's the thing about you. You weren't a shot of espresso; you were a shot of tequila that burned a line to the throat. Aside from that, you were also good at playing video games and could smoke a whole team out if you decided to make gaming a career.

Like a support in the game, you revive him to be the best he can be. The love you give is enough for him to forget all the lower back strain he suffered from sitting on his chair for too long.

TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF, TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES

CHAPTER SUMMARY: It's Chigiri's birthday and everyone decides it's a perfect day to go to the nearby village to shop for secret santa gifts! Will you be able to get through one day without bickering with your ex?

ex-fiancé!rin x f!reader

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, hate sex? + love making, dry humping, mutual pining, no prep, vaginal sex, premature ejaculation, creampie, fingering, oral, mattress humping, tit sucking, multiple rounds?, overstimulation, squirting, choking, praise, dacryphilia, pet names (princess, baby).

WORDS : 12.2k

notes : It's MY birthday too btw hehe wanted Chigiri to be the readers bestie bc he's my birthday twin oops enjoy the fic tho ♡

       LAST CHAPTER┊MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

Daybreak filters through the window as your eyes begrudgingly flutter open. It seems like both you and Chigiri had forgotten to close the curtains before you passed out drunk and stoned. The mattress beneath you feels like a cloud as you stretch out; your hand comes into contact with cold, fair skin.

You blink the sleep from your eyes when you recall that Hyoma seldom sleeps without a shirt.

And your blood runs cold.

It all comes rushing back to you, then. That crushing conversation with Rin you’d had last night that made you sob and search for your best friend, leaving him alone so you could preserve his enjoyment of the evening.

“Eita.” you whisper, attempting to shake him awake.

He knocked on your door, offered you weed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to decline. Not when you were so lonely, so filled with envy and loathing as you dredged over each painful word your ex shared with you on his balcony.

“Mmpf, w’time is it?” Eita grumbles, feeling around for his phone until he finds it. “Eugh, it’s so early…”

“You have to go.” you tell him, lightly slapping him until he pays attention to you. You get out of bed and are met with the freezing air filling the room. He doesn’t listen, but he watches you with one eye slightly open as you rush to turn on the heater to warm up the room. You freeze as you look at him again, wondering why he’s shirtless if it’s so cold. “Eita… did we…”

“Mm.” he grunts, closing his eyes again. You jump onto the mattress beside him, really shaking him so he can’t possibly ignore you. “Woah, what is it?”

“We fucked?” you ask him, panicking.

“No way.” he shakes his head. “Don’t fuck drunk ‘n high girls.” he assures you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as you lie back beside him. It’s stupid to worry about Rin anymore, but you can’t help it. He said he wouldn’t care if you fucked the whole house, but did he really mean it? It seems like a violation, to you, breaking bro code or something. And, honestly, you don’t think it would reflect well on you either.

The last thing you wanted to do was cause an uproar when you’re here for a few more days.

“Eita? What happened last night?” you wonder, quietly, unsure if you want the answer.

You might not have had sex, but that doesn’t mean something else didn’t happen. If you kissed, you certainly don’t remember it. The possibilities are endless, and it makes your blood reach the same chilling temperature that fills the room.

“We jus’ smoked, baby,” he tells you, rolling over on his stomach to look at you. He’s pretty, like this. He’s pretty anyway. But the pinks and yellows breaching through the blinds softens him immensely. “You cried a lot. About Rin. ‘n then you passed out.” he closes his eyes to sleep some more.

How utterly humiliating.

Though you don’t really have time to dwell as you see him trying to sneakily sleep beside you again. You lightly tap his face, yanking the duvet away from him to reveal his toned back muscles.

He’s still wearing his jeans from the party.

“I don’t know where Chigiri is, but if anyone sees you in here, they’re gonna get the wrong idea,” you whisper, and he grunts. He takes his time, but eventually, gets up in search of his shirt and shoes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lead you on or anything.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles back at you over his shoulder as he shoves his feet into his sneakers. “You want Rin back, yeah?”

“I—” you hesitate. Do you want him back? You still stand by the reasons you decided to end things, after all. But so many feelings have come rushing back since seeing him in the flesh again. You were missing him already before you even got here. And now, you’re so close but so far. And even further now that he’s seeing someone new.

Do you really want him back?

Or do you just want what you can’t have?

“Either way, you don’t need me right now.” he tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. “Your loss, by the way.” he laughs.

“Hah, really?” you laugh too.

“Big time, I’m definitely a better fuck than Itoshi. Both of them,” he winks, biting his lip before heading for the door. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.” he salutes before sneaking out and shutting the door behind him.

The cold air hits you like a brick as you run to lock the door after him, but you hurry back to warmth soon after. You starfish in the bed when you realise you have the space to yourself again, and your eyes slowly close. A few more minutes sleep won’t hurt, right? No one else seems to be awake yet.

He didn’t even tell you what time it is.

You roll over and grab your phone from the side table and wince when you see that it’s only 8am. It’s sickening, so much so that you practically throw your phone back down and get in a comfortable position to sleep.

It’s short lived, though, you get fifteen minutes of resting your eyes at most before you hear knocking at the door.

It makes you grumble, like a man. Like your dad specifically. It horrifies you enough to make you stir and clamber out of bed. It’s grotesque, you think, inheriting such an uncouth trait.

You’ll have to train yourself out of it.

You unlock the door, and you aren’t sure why you’re surprised to see Chigiri step through. He stares at you silently as you lock the door again, he doesn’t even follow you into bed when you cover your barely clothed limbs.

“Something happened last night.” he tells you, looking worried.

“What?” you wonder. “What did you do?”

He looks so serious, and it makes your heart race. Did you do something embarrassing? Probably, but that isn’t anything new. His silence makes your body flush with warmth. The nerves and anxiety you feel begin to course through every nerve ending you possess, and soon enough you’re throwing the blankets away from your body.

He looks into your eyes before thinking about what he should say. And after losing all composure, he starts laughing. “Nothing, just wanted to see what it feels like to be you for a second.” he smirks, “You do that shit everyday? Exhausting.”

“You’re such a dick.” you chastise him, getting comfy in the bed again. And now, finally, he joins you. “Have you got a hangover?”

“Big time.” he tells you. You grab some painkillers from your side table and pop out enough from the silvery film for you and Chigiri to consume. “Something happened last night, right?” he asks.

“Don’t get me started.” you sigh.

“I came up here to come to bed, the door was locked.” he tells you, “So I woke up with Tabito on the couch, Sae on the floor and Oliver on the coffee table.”

You laugh, rolling on your side so you can face each other and gossip. The state everyone is in today is no surprise. Though you suspect the only one not nursing a hangover is probably Rin. You didn’t see him drink all that much, and he doesn’t get high.

He’s probably doing his morning routine right now.

A routine he got you into when you first started dating. You wanted to impress him, after all. But his yoga routines are far out of your league. You used to end up giggling on your back after a fall while he laughed along with you.

But you liked doing the meditation afterwards.

“Rin almost kissed me last night, I think…” you contemplate it, though you admittedly aren’t sure if it’s a fabrication. “It was really intense, but he rejected me.”

“Damn.” he replies, “Wait, so you were in here alone? Why did you lock the door?!”

“Eita spent the night…” you sigh, covering your face with your pillow. Chigiri teases you, trying to pull it away to inspect your facial expressions. He’s laughing, loudly, unable to believe what he’s hearing. “He told me that we just got high, and I cried about Rin.” you confess.

“You are floundering.” he tells you, and you nod. “He’s into you, you’re into him, Ryusei made him sound like a major player so he’s probably a good fuck. Rin gave you your answer, you should have sealed the deal!” he continues, and all you can do is groan. Because he’s right.

How long is it going to take to get over Rin, anyway? Why should you spare his feelings when he clearly has no desire to do the same for you?

Eita isn’t what you want right now, though.

His pretty face and his alleged impeccable stroke game isn’t going to change that.

“Rin was jealous last night.” Chigiri admits, and it grabs your attention instantly. “Ryusei was, too. But Rin was really jealous.”

“Really?”

He nods, “When you were dancing with Eita, I was trying to keep an eye on him.” you get comfortable and make full eye contact with him again as he speaks. “While we were playing never have I ever, too. When Eita and Oliver were all over you, he looked pissed.”

“Interesting…”

“His girlfriend’s gotta be a rebound.” he theorizes, and for whatever reason, it gives you chills. Both of your eyes widen at the same time, and no doubt you’ve arrived at the same idea. “We need to get more info.”

“Ryusei wants to talk to me at some point, I’ll ask him.” you tell Hyoma, and he nods, concurring that it’s a good idea. “You need to talk to Sae. He might know something.”

“He didn’t even know Rin was coming,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, but relents. “Fine.”

--

The two of you go downstairs, surprisingly greeted by everyone else. Everyone’s crowded around the kitchen island again. The smell of bacon, eggs and toast floods your nostrils as you descend and reach the kitchen.

You sit in between Oliver and Chigiri, the former not paying you too much attention other than a polite hello. Ryusei catches your eye as he tilts his head, waving when you finally make eye contact. His face looks serious, intentional, he’s waiting for that talk you silently agreed to.

“Surprised you’re cooking for us all, Rin.” Hyoma speaks, resting his elbow on the countertop before settling his head in his hand.

“Yeah, well,” he speaks quietly but with a slight gruffness. “It’s fine.”

He carefully sets down two plates in front of you all. Eita and Ryusei are already eating, so Oliver reaches for the nearest plate. Rin scowls at him, harshly trapping his hand between the plate and the spatula he’s holding.

“That’s not for you.” Rin tells him, and he moves his hand. You watch him as he pushes the plate in your direction, looking at you briefly before he looks back at Oliver. “Here.” he continues, pushing the other plate towards his hungry friend.

Hyoma is thankful that Rin seems too preoccupied trying to shield his face from you to notice how his eyes have widened and he can’t control the smirk on his face. You haven’t noticed, either, but Sae raises a suspicious eyebrow as he looks at your best friend. Though, luckily, he doesn’t comment on it.

You look down at the plate, realising why he wanted you to have this plate. He’s cut your toast into triangles how he knows you like, and they are the perfect shade of golden brown with butter dreamily melting into it. He cut the fat off your bacon and fried it until it was crispy.

You look at Oliver’s plate, seeing how little care have gone into the eggs. The yolks are messy and broken, whereas yours are perfect.

“Thank you, Rinni— Rin.” you smile, picking up your cutlery as you start to dig in. He doesn’t say anything, he just smiles weakly as he nods. He washes his hands in the sink as his brother places a plate down in front of Chigiri. He sits opposite to him with a plate of his own.

Your smile fades as you watch Rin walk away without sitting down with a plate of his own.

“Where’re you going?” Ryusei asks, cheeks full of food as he talks.

“Not hungry.” he responds, retreating upstairs.

You sigh, losing your appetite despite the food looking so perfectly appealing. Hyoma leans over to you, whispering that you need to eat as he watches you play with your food. He’s right, as usual, so you force yourself to take a few bites. Your eyes meet Ryusei’s as you look up, and you see an expression of concern and worry on his face.

It forces you to continue eating. You don’t want to worry everyone, after all.

But you yourself are worried about Rin.

He could be telling the truth, of course. It’s possible that he really isn’t hungry. But what if it’s your fault? Maybe he can’t stomach the idea of being around you. Eating around you. He might not even want to breathe the same air as you after last night.

Breakfast… he made it for you specifically, though.

Why would he do that if he hated you so much?

“He’s almost finished eating,” Hyoma whispers, gesturing to Shidou’s plate. “Eat your food, pull him aside, and I’ll see if I can find out anything from Sae.” he continues.

You take a few more bites and push your plate aside. Chigiri waits for you to do as he had told you, but you whisper to him instead.

“Why do you think Rin isn’t eating?” you ask, “I should make him breakfast since he did the same for me!” you smile, excitedly.

“Aw!” he smiles back, a little too widely to be sincere. “Your cooking is disgusting. You’re trying to get him back, not kill him.”

“Oh my God it isn’t that ba—”

“Hey, didn’t you need to talk to Shidou about something?” he says, loudly, pulling everyone’s attention from their food to look at your exchange. No one is more captivated than Shidou himself, however, who picks up both of your plates and moves them closer to the sink. “I’ll wash up, dude, don’t worry.” Chigiri says as he stands to his feet, shooting you a final, warning glare before walking to the sink.

You smile at Ryusei, leading him over to the empty lounge. He lights the wood logs in the fireplace after seeing your skin break out in goosebumps. The couch feels tight as you sit together, despite being so far apart. His arm rests over the back while he rests an ankle on his knee, and you’re sitting cross-legged with your back against the furniture’s arm.

It’s awkward.

There’s an obvious tension that you don’t feel qualified to break. He’s formulating words, you can see him thinking of what to say since he’s older and should therefore be more mature. He’s the one who hurt you, unintentionally of course, so he should try and alleviate this heavy feeling of unease.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he starts. “If I did anything to give you the wrong idea… I’m sorry.”

“No, I was being a brat, I’m sorry.” you tell him, trying your best to not let your bruised ego interfere with a friendship you do value wholeheartedly. “You were right, I was hurting and then I lashed out because I was embarrassed.”

“You know I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if you weren’t Rin’s girl, yeah?” he laughs, tilting your head up by the chin with his finger as he urges you to look at him. “I know you aren’t together, but it’s a red line to me.”

“I understand…” you nod, “Are you going to tell him?”

He shakes his head, “There’s nothing to tell. Nothin’ happened.” he smiles at you. He pulls you into his arms and hugs you tightly. It makes you giggle; you can’t help yourself. Ryusei always seems to make you feel lighter whenever you talk to him.

He’s sweet.

Really sweet.

And often times, severely misunderstood. You’ve known him since he was young, he’s thirty, now. You remember meeting him when you hadn’t been with Rin for too long. He told you about how they’d fight, physically. He told you he was crazy and unhinged, this that and the other.

But you got to know him, you suppose.

You got to see a softer side of him and one that cares deeply. And he does care for you, even still. He’ll care about you for as long as he lives, you can see it plainly as he holds you in his arms, looking up into his eyes.

He looks at you like you’re his everything, sometimes.

You melt into his arms when you hear him lightly sniff your strawberry scented hair, it makes him hold you tighter. His head drops, levelling his mouth with your ear.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” he wonders.

You stiffen, and he feels it. He rubs your shoulders lightly with his thumbs, encouraging you to share in your own time. Whether it’s now, or in an hour.

He’s got you.

“Rin— His… girlfriend,” you gulp, fighting tears as they threaten to form and douse your cheeks for the second day in a row. “Do you know anything?”

“I know the same as you,” he confesses, feeling a pang on guilt in his heart as he hears you sigh in disappointment. “You ended things, baby, are ya jealous?”

“I’m starting to think I made a mistake…” you admit, looking into his eyes. “Help me, Ryu, please. I want to know if there’s still a chance with him.”

He just huffs and shrugs his shoulders.

Realistically there’s not much he can do to help. And you know that. You know how stubborn Rin can be, and what’s worse, he’s so private about his personal life. It used to be you that he was so secretive about. The only pictures on his Instagram profile were ones of you and him.

Just two pictures.

One of your birthday.

Another of your engagement.

They’re both gone, now. It breaks your heart to think about. He might replace them one day with photos of her. The thought of another woman wearing his grandmother’s ring makes anxiety surge through your nerve endings. Your body eases, though, when you feel Ryusei’s protective hold get stronger.

“I’ll find out what I can for you…” he whispers, “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

You nod, closing your eyes peacefully when you feel him place a delicate kiss into your temple. Chigiri looks over at you, shrugging, as if he’s asking for news. But you just shake your head, leaving both of you disappointed.

--

“Sae doesn’t know anything either.” Chigiri tells you now that you’re finally alone together again in the room you’re sharing. You grunt as you sit down on the bed with him, pouting that your little scheme has failed before it even took flight. “Are we giving up?”

“I guess, what else can we do?” you sigh. It was a noble thought that you’d be able to get some information and find a way to get your fairytale ending, but this is real life. Of course that wasn’t an option. “Anyway, it’s your birthday tomorrow. We should be focusing on that. Sae said he wanted to plan something.”

“We talked about it last night… he suggested going to one of the bars in town.” he explains. “Maybe we could do the secret Santa shopping too. Who did you get?” he wonders.

“Um…” you get off the bed, moving a few things around in the room as you try and recall where you left the jagged piece of cardboard with your recipient’s name written on. You find it in a crumpled pile of last night’s clothes and panties, handing it to Chigiri to read.

“Sae! At least you know him well enough to get something for him.” he smiles, giving it back to you.

“I was hoping I’d get you or Ryusei to be honest… or, never mind.” you speak quietly, regretting wanting to bring Rin up again when you’d tried to change the subject in the first place. “Who did you get?” you wonder.

He smirks, pulling his own piece of cardboard out of his pocket before showing it to you. Your face drops, and he can’t help but laugh, sticking his tongue out as he waves it around teasingly.

Rin.

“Give me it.” you demand. You reach out to grab it, but he snatches it from your reach. “Fucking give me it!” you leap on him, fighting with him as he carries on keeping it away from you.

“You fucking psycho!” he laughs, losing the upper hand as he lowers his hands to hold his aching stomach. “I was gonna give it to you anyway, idiot.”

“This is a gamechanger.” you smile, triumphantly holding the bent and torn piece of cardboard. “He almost kissed me. He was jealous. He made me breakfa—”

“He made everyone breakfast.”

“We’ve got history!” you steal the conversation back from him as he interrupts you, glaring at him with a new determination in your eyes. He watches you as you speak, knowing that you’re definitely onto something. There is so much history between you. And if you can pull of a simple, romantic gesture, he might bare his heart to you again. “Good things always happen on your birthday. I’m more excited than usual.”

“Because it’s my special day and you love me, right?” he rolls his eyes. “Not because you’re scheming to get your ex back.”

“I’m very excited for your special day and I love you very much, Chigs.” you laugh, chubbing his cheeks as you bend down from where you’re standing to tease him. “I’ll give up after this, for real. If he doesn’t want me, fine! But I think there’s still a chance…”

You aren’t sure if that’s entirely true though.

Maybe it’s your imagination.

Maybe it’s just hope.

--

“Who’s gonna be the designated drivers?” Karasu wonders, scanning around the room as he contemplates who will fill the roles. “We’ll need two, minimum.”

“I don’t mind staying sober.” you pipe up, shrugging and smiling happily. You got wasted on your first night here and, honestly, your stomach is still raw. You look upstairs as you hear a creak of the wood floor, the only person not present is the birthday boy himself. So, your face lights up, eager to finally see him and give him his gifts. “It’s Hyoma’s birthday, so he isn’t driving, decide the rest amongst yourselves.” you tell them as you stand up and rush towards your shared room.

The guys nod, all looking at each other as they try and come to a decision.

“I don’t care.” Rin announces, taking a drink of his coffee. “I’ll drive.”

“We should have one more to be safe,” Sae suggests, and they all groan, disappointed that Rin hadn’t gotten them all off the hook. It’s a choice between five, and none of them seem willing to be gracious enough to offer. “Fine. Let’s draw straws.”

You knock on the door to your room before entering immediately after, a wide grin sprawled across your face.

“Good morning! Happy birthday~!” you squeal, rushing over to your best friend to give him a tight, loving squeeze. He laughs, thanking you gratefully. He watches you as you grab the tall bag full of gifts and hand it to him. “If there’s anything you don’t like, jus’ lemme know and we can return or exchange!” you tell him, and he nods.

Though, as expected, your taste is perfect.

He pulls out each meticulously wrapped gift and is happy with each and every item you’ve gotten him. You’ve gotten the perfect mix of presents for him. Some clothes, accessories, and jewellery you were certain he’d like.

“This must have cost a fortune, you didn’t have to spend so much y’know.” he smiles, happily, holding a designer sweater you’d gotten him with an intricate design. You think nothing of it, though. If you could buy gifts for your atrocious little step siblings, you didn’t mind doing the same for your best friend. “I might wear this today!”

“You should! We’ve just been picking designated drivers.” you inform him. “I’m not drinking tonight, but I told them you aren’t driving since it’s your special day.”

“You aren’t?”

“I want a clear head today… it’s gonna be a long day.” you explain, and he nods. “We’ll probably be leaving soon so we should start getting dressed.” you tell him, standing up and crumpling all of the wrapping paper into a ball. You toss it aside before you decide to sit and start getting ready again.

“I’m gonna say good morning to everyone.” he smiles, waving.

You’re alone in the room, now, thinking about what’s to come. You don’t know how you should wear your hair or do your makeup. You aren’t sure how to dress comfortably for a shopping day whilst simultaneously looking hot enough to go for drinks and party after.

There’s an unnecessary pressure you’re letting weigh down on you. You want to impress Rin. You want to leave an impression. It’s silly, really. He knows you through and through. Every deep, saccharine inch of you, better than anyone else ever will. But here you are, preening yourself for his benefit more than your own.

It feels somewhat in vain, deep down.

Why are you trying to put on a mask for a man that knows you so, so intimately?

--

“You look really good,” Chigiri comments, leaning across the centre console to whisper in hushed tones. You offer a giddy, accomplished smile as you thank him, Eita and Oliver agree with him as they seem to overhear even over the pop music blasting through the speakers.

Cosy was the right move when you decided on your look for the day, though you may look like you’re heading for a day on some ski slopes rather than shopping and partying.

You’re dressed head to toe in white. Earmuffs, fuzzy coat and boots, and a skin tight jumpsuit. You even have white mittens ready to wear when you get out of the car.

“So… we’re splitting up. Looking for gifts. And then meeting at the bar in a few hours?” you ask the boys, who all nod.

“I already know what I’m getting so I’ll be going straight to the bar when I’m done.” Eita announces.

“Me too.” Oliver tells him, laughing.

You shake your head as you watch them joke around like kids, but with a joyous smile on your face. They must have something simple and generic in mind to be able to purchase their gifts to quickly. Though, knowing them, it’s probably alcohol.

There are butterflies in your stomach as you approach the nearby village town, you look into the rearview mirror to see Rin is still following closely behind.

You wonder how frustrated he is with Ryusei annoying him in the passenger seat.

You take a deep breath as you park, watching him pull up beside you. Everyone gets out quickly, eager to stretch their legs after the thirty-minute drive. You sigh as Rin walks away rapidly; his face buried in his phone without even bothering to say goodbye.

Chigiri shrugs at you, and everyone disperses through the village in different directions.

“I don’t even know where to start…” you confess, looking between each of the cutesy looking stores.

You enter a few, browsing, hoping something will leap out at you. An accessory you know he might like or maybe even a keepsake that might remind him of you whenever he sees it. But it starts to feel hopeless after you leave the 7th little shop you come across.

Otoya and Karasu pass by you, laughing as you enter while they’re leaving.

You dread to think what they’ve bought.

“I bet they’ve bought dirty magazines or something stupid.” Chigiri suspects, shaking his head in amusement as he thinks about how loud they were laughing. You grin, thinking about how the other guys would react to receiving such a scandalous, silly gift.

You try a few more places, and even revisit some others. But you’re about ready to give up as time keeps going on and on. Hyoma hasn’t had much luck finding something for the elder Itoshi sibling, either.

You’re both close to just buying some local sweets and calling it a day.

“Well this has been a disaster,” you huff, “So much for this being a gamechanger!”

“We haven’t been down here yet.” he points to an alleyway with a few more stores.

You enter through the hefty double doors of one, observing what kinds of things they have on the shelves. You’re both immediately excited when you realise you’re in a charity shop. You’re all too familiar with some of the treasures some people give away, some of your favourite outfits are things you’ve found through being thrifty.

“Oh this is perfect!” you beam, looking through each shelf at all of the little trinkets. Chigiri separates from you as he starts sifting through the clothes, wondering if he can find a novelty shirt of some kind as gag gift.

“There are DVDs over here, maybe we should get some to watch if we get bored?” he suggests. “They’re so cheap.”

“Oh cool!” you smile, approaching him to look through the selection together. “Ah! Oh my God, get this for Sae!” you tell him as you pull a DVD down from the shelf and hand it to him. “It’s his favourite!”

“Taxi Driver? Okay.” he scoffs, but keeps hold of it. At the very least, he knows Sae will definitely like it. Though he’s sure if it’s his favourite he probably already owns it in some form. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Every time he tried to make us watch it, I always fell asleep.” you giggle. Your eyes scan across the DVDs as you carry on walking through the shop. And then you realise you’ve walked too far when you see the spines change in height and width. “Oh, CDs!” you speak excitedly as you look through all of the old bands and albums on the shelves.

You grimace in confusion as your eyes settle on a familiar album amongst all of the other more obscure ones. Surely not, you think. But you place your finger on the top and wiggle it out from being suffocated between the rest.

“Hyoma!” you squeal, flipping it for him to see. His eyes drop to see Lana’s Lust for Life album in your hand. He seems confused, though, as his eyes flit between yours and the CD you’re holding. “It’s a sign!”

“Is it?” he asks, sceptically.

“Yes! He got me this on vinyl for my birthday a few years ago!” you explain, and he looks sympathetic rather than supportive. “I— am I being stupid? I was thinking it might remind him of us.”

“No, no, it’s a good idea.” he tells you, holding your shoulders supportively. “Let’s go pay and get to the bar.” he continues, holding a few DVDs in his hands.

You grab your purse, offering to cover everything as the cashier helps you bag everything and rings you up. It’s cheap, and yet, you feel accomplished. You were starting to doubt whether you’d actually be able to find anything for him. If Chigiri hadn’t pointed this place out, you’d be giving him a poxy box of sweets on Christmas morning.

Although, the sweets might be a nice additional gift.

~

The guys slowly but surely begin filtering into the bar with their shopping bags. You’ve been here with Chigiri for a little while, but Oliver, Tabito and Eita were the first ones here when you arrived.

Ryusei sits down beside you when he comes in next, and Rin isn’t far behind him. Everyone cheers when Sae comes in last, and you can’t help but notice everyone’s shopping bags seem to look similar in some way or another.

“The shops are so dead.” Sae tells you all, and everyone happens to agree.

You aren’t sure what they all expected, though. It’s a small village town in the middle of nowhere. It’s not like you’re in a bustling city with anything and everything at your fingertips. It made shopping more fun, you thought. It gave you the opportunity to really look around until you found something special.

“I’ll get drinks,” Rysuei announces as he stands up. He makes a mental note of what everyone wants, knowing he’ll probably forget when he goes to the bar.

“Move down, Rin, I need to talk to Ryusei.” Sae instructs his little brother. Rin looks at Ryusei’s empty seat, and then at you. It makes your heart race when his pretty teal eyes meet yours. He looks worried, for some reason, but masks it well as he shuffles from his seat to the one closer to you.

Your eyes wander as they meet Sae’s, and he winks at you casually.

Hyoma never did tell you what he and Sae talked about, only that he couldn’t get any information, either. But from this simple act, it seems Hyoma has revealed your true feelings for his brother to him.

And you’re happy.

Because this small gesture indicates that you have his support.

You don’t say anything, not right away, as he settles down beside you. You’re surprised he isn’t toying with his phone like he has been endlessly since he got here. It makes your throat tighten to think he might be doing it so that you don’t see his texts with his new girlfriend.

“How did shopping go?” you ask him, hoping to break the ice and stop yourself from spiralling about a woman you don’t even know the name of.

“Fine, I think,” he tells you. “I think everyone’s gonna be disappointed with what they get.”

“I don’t know… it’s part of the fun.” you reply. “If we wanted to go all out, we would have planned to do this before we got here so we could order perfect, expensive things. But having a little budget and no idea was a change of pace.”

“What did you buy?” he wonders.

“I got some sweets to eat when we get back.” you smile. It makes him smile, too, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. You hadn’t expected to see his face change like that because of something you said. It’s warm, thawing away at your frozen heart.

“Happy birthday, Chigiri.” Ryusei says as he gives your best friend his drink first. You already know that Hyoma isn’t going to have to pay for a single drink himself while he’s here, it’s everyone’s birthday offering to him. Rin doesn’t pay Ryusei any mind as he sits down in his previous seat, too busy focusing on chatting with you.

It makes you feel special.

It makes you feel wanted.

“Rin?” you whisper, leaning over to him. He looks at you, a serious expression on his face as he senses your desperation. You’re trying not to be so needy, but you just can’t help it. “… I’m glad you decided to come along.”

It’s not what you wanted to say and not what he expected to hear. Although, you aren’t sure what you actually do want to say to him. Telling him you still harbour feelings will surely only end in tears when you know you can’t have him.

He isn’t yours anymore.

“Yeah? Well, it hasn’t been as painful as I expected it to be.” he tells you. And even that, such a simple, sulky sentence makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it’s because you know it’s oh so quintessentially Rin Itoshi. “You did scare me, when I saw you on the stairs.”

“You scared me too…” you admit. “I—”

“It happened, it’s fine. We’re fine.” he tells you, taking a sip of the lemonade Ryusei had ordered for him. You decided to stick to water, the freezing ice cubes bump against your lips as you drink heartily. “I heard Otoya go into your room the other night. After we— talked.”

“Nothing happened…” you respond, drinking more water to cover how your expression fills with shame and regret. He nods, understanding. “S-So, your girlfriend. Tell me about her…” you ask, reluctantly. And you’re a little surprised when he shakes his head.

“I’m not doing this,” he speaks. “We’re fine. I’m being civil. You aren’t entitled to know about my personal life just because I’m tolerating you.”

“Tolerating me? Really?”

“Yes, tolerating you.” he continues. “You lost the right to know about me when you left.”

“God, Rin, I barely knew you then.” you huff, crossing one leg over the other as you slightly angle your back to him. He puts his arm around the back of your seat and positions himself awful close. It startles you when you turn back to face him.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“You were so distant. All you cared about was football.” you inform him, doing your best to keep your voice lowered so that you don’t make a scene. The last thing you wanted was to ruin your best friend’s birthday because you had a momentary lapse of judgement.

Maybe exes are exes for a reason.

“Because it’s my job? My career.”

“And I have a career too, but I still remembered to ask how your day was. You stopped talking to me unless it was about our schedules.”

“You—” he huffs, moving away from you. You’re a little taken aback when he stands up with the intention of leaving. He pulls out some money and tells Hyoma to get himself a drink, on him, as a birthday gift.

Everyone looks a little lost for words when he ups and leaves. But then there’s a sigh of relief when they remembered they appointed Karasu to be another designated driver.

It’s not sitting right with you, though.

It almost felt like you were close to a breakthrough. You were getting into the nitty gritty of why your relationship fell apart in the first place, and, as usual, he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. You gather your things and decide to chase after him, knowing you can’t leave things like this.

You won’t even be able to call yourselves friends if you don’t figure this out.

“You’re stalking me, now?” Rin chuckles as he ducks into Sae’s car and locks the door. You try knocking on the window for him to let you in, but you’re speechless when he just drives off instead.

You fumble with the keys to Chigiri’s car until you manage to unlock it.

He’s not running away from you again.

--

As much as he wanted to break the speed limit to escape you, there was no point. You knew he was heading home so you’d find him eventually. Besides, he didn’t want to risk either of you slipping on the ice and winding up dead.

So he kept to a steady pace, enjoying the thirty minutes of peace on the drive down to the cabin before what he could only assume would be a shouting match between the two of you.

“Rin!” you yell as you get out of the car, slamming the door. It would make him laugh if he wasn’t so frustrated, you always did prove him right about things like this. He gets out of Sae’s car and slams the door, not even bothering to look at you as he walks up the stairs to the cabin.

He unlocks the door with ease before strutting in. It’s hard to keep up with his long strides, especially in the wet, slippery snow. You do what you can to speed after him, even taking the stairs two at a time so that you can get inside quicker.

You spot him in the kitchen as if nothing had happened. He’s standing by the kettle as he boils some water to make tea. He looks at you, casually, before looking back at the steam gently rising through the spout.

“You’re so childish? How didn’t I realise how fucking childish you are on top of everything?!” you shout as you walk over to the platform that separates the kitchen from the entryway. He still looks intent on keeping his mouth shut. And it’s making you crazy. “Will you say something?”

“What do you want?” he retorts, instantly. He looks at you briefly before pouring the water into a novelty Christmas mug. It’s tacky and hideous and you’re sure he hates it, but it must have been the first thing he saw to use. He leans back against the counter behind him while he uses a spoon to press the flavour from the tea bag.

“I— tell me you hate me, call me a bitch, I don’t know!” you demand. “I hate this tension, Rinnie, because every time I think things are okay, you freeze up and it’s—”

“I can’t tell if you’re… joking?” he smirks. “You, literally, broke my heart with no explanation. I’ve spent months trying to move on and then you show up out of nowhere and you’re trying to be best friends. I don’t want to be friends with you.”

“So what do you want?!”

“I want you to leave me alone.” he raises his voice, and it’s harsh. But instead of hurting you, it makes you angrier. You blood boils as you round the counter to get closer to him as he speaks. He puts down the tea he made as you get closer, using hand gestures wildly as he talks to get his point across. “You shouldn’t have come here. Because you shouldn’t have been keeping in touch with my family after we broke up. It’s such a fucking red line, it’s violating.”

“Oh, well, fuck me for wanting to know how you’re doing after everything. You know, since you completely cut me off. I was worried and you wouldn’t even text me to tell you when you were coming to get your stuff!”

“This is your problem,” he wags his finger with a smile before holding it to his lips as he thinks of how to tell you exactly how he feels. “You’re so fucking entitled. I’m being nice to you after you hurt me, and you think you deserve to know me again.”

“No, this is your problem!” you bite back, walking away from him before closing the gap again. You look up at him with watery eyes as he towers over you. Your heart aches as you feel the distance between you expand the more you talk about the past. But it has to happen. Even if you lose him forever, you can’t carry all of this pain with you forever. “You shut people out when they care! I want you to be happy and I want us to be friends, but you won’t talk to me! I broke up with you because when you were neglecting me, I felt lonelier than I did when I was actually alone.”

“I didn’t neglect you, I loved you. What was really the problem? Huh?” he asks, getting closer to you. And you have to crane your neck just to keep eye contact with him. He can’t ignore how glittery your eyes are as you hold back tears. You’re covering your sadness with rage, that much is clear to him. But he doesn’t want to stop. Not now, not when you’ve driven him to the point of no return with your incessant complaints. “I was too busy for you, yeah? You didn’t miss me, missed me taking you on fancy dates so you had something to brag about on Instagram.”

“… fuck you.” you say, quietly, your voice gets trapped in your throat as you try and figure out how to pull away from this confrontation with your dignity intact. It’s too late though. He’s already witnessed a lone tear fall down your cheek. “Do you hate me that much? Do you think that little of me?”

He doesn’t.

“Princess…” he sighs, tilting your head up with his thumb and forefinger so that you’re fixated on his eyes. Teal whirlpools with flecks of turquoise that create a scintillating visage that cannot be described by a mere mortal. No, they are deep lagoons that you want to drown in. They soften as he names you the only way you’d want to be named by him. Not your birth name, but as royalty. His princess. “I don’t think about you at all.”

Your heart shatters and he sees so clearly how your vision breaks. Should you keep looking at him or somewhere else entirely. His face is stoic, as usual, though he cups your face like you’re precious. Like you are the princess you want to believe you are, for him.

The energy in your body has depleted and you can’t even bring yourself to push him away. All you have is words. And, even then, you’re drawing a blank. So you sink, deep. Lower than the depths of hell to truly muster three little words you simply don’t mean.

“I hate you.”

He doesn’t react, not fully. But the colour of his eyes dull as the words reach his ears.

“I fucking despise you.” he retorts.

You do nought but stare.

Both of you.

You just stand there, indignantly staring into each other’s eyes as you process the situation. Your chest heaves and your body trembles with fury. You didn’t mean it, not really. In this moment, you suppose you do hate him a little. But you’ll never know if Rin means it.

Part of you assumes he’s only saying it to hurt you like you hurt him. He said what you said but increased the severity of his words just to twist the knife into your bloodied heart. But maybe he does truly feel this way. Maybe he’s felt nothing but disdain towards you since you broke up with him all of those months ago.

Why would he feel anything positive when it comes to you?

Especially since he’s moved on.

“I hate you, Rinnie…” you reiterate, lip wobbling as your tears spill more and more.

“I don’t believe you.” he says, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

You scan his face, and he doesn’t move an inch. It gives you pause for a moment as you contemplate what you’re feeling. But there are no thoughts in your brain, it’s silent. Blood pumps through you, and emotions overtake you as you lunge forward.

The distance between you is gone as you press your lips against his. He doesn’t tease you, this time. He doesn’t pull away. He kisses you back. You feel his hands explore your body, large palms settling in the slopes of your waist before they lower to your thighs.

You could never hate him.

His hands on your body make you feel whole again. He himself can barely believe how lovestruck you are in the way that you moan softly and breathe deeply from just his hands roaming your body. He lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he deposits you on the countertop.

You lose yourself to loving squeezes and open-mouthed kisses as he grinds his hips between your spread legs, his tea long since abandoned in favour or tormenting what he knows to be your intricate, sopping flesh.

“You hate me, baby?” he asks, mumbling against your glossy, drooling lips. “S’that right? You hate me? Say it again, princess, say you hate me.”

“D— Don’t—!” you tell him, lips too eager to be smothered by his to answer him properly. You’re worried a truth might stray from your loose lips while you’re with him like this. You fight it, you really fight it. “I hate you, so much. R-Rinnie…” you tell him, and it feels honest. You’re substituting one word for another, and it feels so powerful as you lie to him with ease. He doesn’t stop, though.

If anything, everything intensifies.

“Yeah?” he asks, licking the tip of his tongue against yours tormentingly. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll stop, then.”

“No, please,” you beg and it’s downright pathetic. Your own hips roll to meet his movements. You hump against each other pitifully, the desperation and friction being enough to leave you heady and delirious and most of all satisfied that it’s thanks to Rin Itoshi. “Don’t stop, please.” you whimper, attaching your lips to his as he continues.

Your poignant words lead him to growl against your skin. It’s so primal. So territorial as he pushes your jacket off your shoulders and down your arms. You help him in his efforts to take it off, shoving it until it slides and puddles on the ground.

“God I missed you.” you hear him mumble against your skin. Your heart beats faster as you feel him caress every inch of your body, hands resting on the swell of your tits as he thinks about what he wants to do to you.

You feel your truth being coaxed out of you with each passing second. Every ingratiating word the is meticulously embedded from his tongue and into your brain makes you desperate to tell him how you really feel and beg that he feels the same.

“Rinnie, I—”

His entire hand smothers the lower half of your face. There’s a worry in his eye as his body tenses up. And still, he can’t stop himself. He carries on humping his heavy bulge into your clothed cunt at a snail’s pace, panicked eyes turning heavy and filled with lust as he looks at how needy you are.

“Shh, baby,” he tells you, showing no signs of moving his hand.

“I can’t believe they ditched us.” you both hear a familiar voice muffled from outside. You aren’t sure why you care, but soon enough you’re both scrambling to be away from each other. You put your jacket back on after gathering it from the ground, both of you doing your best to act cool. “Here you are! What the fuck?” Tabito exclaims.

You can’t look.

Neither of you know why you’re so ashamed. So humiliated that you’d almost been caught hooking up. It’s not like it would be so scandalous, is it? You’ve made it very clear that you still have feelings for him, and yet, you don’t want anyone to know about this.

He’s the same, though, doing all he can to maintain composure.

He looks calm.

But you know him.

His eyes are blown. Full of lust and anxiety as he tries to control his breathing. No one else would notice, but you see how heavy his controlled breaths are. He gulps, scratching the back of his neck before looking around.

“I’ll get the others,” Rin tells Tabito, who can only shrug at his words.

Only Chigiri and Sae had returned with Karasu, the rest deciding to wait in the bar until someone decided to come and collect them. Tabito thought he’d have to do a return trip, not expecting Rin to spare him from repeating the journey once again. But once he has the all clear, he kicks off his shoes and sprawls on the couch.

Chigiri stares at you, and you can’t even look him in the eye for more than a second.

Why are you brimming with shame?

He almost sobers up at the sight of you. You look so vacant and dazed. It’s hard to look at him when you feel like this. Every attempt to do so, every forced little smile, only makes his concern grow. He walks towards you, but just as abruptly, he stops.

Rin walks behind you, caging your body beneath him as he traps you against the kitchen island. He doesn’t notice Chigiri staring, and he can’t look away. You turn your head a little, but not much. You’re eager to look at Rin but he levels his mouth with your ear. His breathing is laboured yet soft, and your skin pinches together as it carries through your body.

“I could never hate you, princess.” he whispers. He leaves you alone with that sentence without so much as a glance. He holds the keys to his brother’s car and heads for the exit. Chigiri watches him walk by before looking at you again. Sae looks at you both, briefly. He too is curious as to what is going on.

“That looked intense.” Hyoma speaks, finally getting close enough to have a conversation with you. You smile, and it’s feeble, but it’s all you can do as you try to think of an excuse to give him. Maybe he didn’t mean what he said about missing you. Tensions were high, after all. He has a girlfriend to think about, of course he feels ashamed. Of course, he wants to pretend this little lapse of judgement didn’t occur. “Did something happen?” your best friend asks.

“We just argued.” you lie.

You never lie to Chigiri, though you’re sure you’ll tell him once you get your bearings. You need to find out what’s going on with Rin. It’s hard to talk about something you don’t understand. You’re sure he’ll be sympathetic once you have your story straight.

You just need to talk to Rin.

You need some assurance.

You need to know where you stand.

“I think I’m gonna go to bed early.” you tell him, giving him a hug before walking away. “Happy birthday, Chigs!”

“… okay.” he looks at you, hugging you back. “I’ll try and be quiet so I don’t wake you.”

“Goodnight.” you wave, ascending the stairs and out of his line of sight.

--

An early night was never an option. You knew that, and Hyoma probably knew it, too.

All you did when you got to your room was scroll through Instagram. You took some time to reply to some texts you’d received from family asking how your trip was going. You hammed it up, of course, not letting slip that Rin happened to be here too.

They all called you stupid for ending things with him.

It felt right at the time. But hindsight is a wonderful thing.

You weren’t ready to deal with re-opening that wound only to hear ‘I told you so’ repeatedly.

You heard Rin get home with the other guys, though they all stayed downstairs.

It’s all the more humiliating when you think about how desperately you want Rin to appear. You need him to come and get you, and not just to pick up where you left off.

You want answers.

Though you suppose you won’t be getting them tonight.

You spent a few hours trying on different outfits and following along with makeup tutorials from YouTube before getting bored. The raucous sounds of laughter and music got louder when you walked across the hall to take a shower and wash your face clean.

The floorboards begin to creak in the direction of the stairs when you get out.

And it scares you.

You rush across the hallway and back into your room. Your hand flies to your chest, adrenaline ravishes your heart as you lean backwards against the locked door. It makes you feel vulnerable, right now. No matter who it is, you feel scared of being seen.

Your heart stops when you hear a knock at the door.

It isn’t repeated.

Just one, singular, knock.

It makes your breathing stutter and stop abruptly. You don’t dare answer, not when you’re naked, save for the towel. It could be any one of the seven men you’re sharing the house with this week. But deep down, you know.

You know who’s on the other side of that door.

The steps retreat, and your breathing calms.

Was it him? Was that really Rin Itoshi on the other side of your door? You wait until you can barely hear the steps anymore before you unlock the barrier between you and him. When the door opens, you step out, sheepishly.

He looks at you from down the hall. Those eyes of his, full of pain and longing as he stares back at you with the same intensity you’re offering him. He doesn’t speak, but he goes into his room, so you go back into yours.

You let your towels hit the floor, crumpling up in a mess as you look for some nightwear and a hairbrush. It’s like a race against time, or at least that’s how it feels as you quickly try to brush through your sopping hair.

Every passing minute feels like it’s expanding the gulf between the two of you. So you want to hurry, it needs to be resolved now.

You barely even close the door when you walk out and jog down the hall to his room. It’s hard to be quiet when you feel such urgency to see him. You hope your footsteps aren’t too loud. And you hope nobody can hear over the music where you are and what you’re doing.

It’s all you can do.

And so, you knock, quietly, waiting for him to let you in. Too much time passes. Minutes feel like hours as you wait for him to answer. Your body feels cold, wet droplets decorate your skin and your hair drips down your spine. It feels like a mistake that you came. But why would he knock if he hadn’t wanted this to happen? Maybe he regrets this, too, as well as what happened downstairs.

It hurts to think about.

But he answers, and of your anxiety leaves you like a deflating balloon. Though you’re stilled, before him, and he doesn’t move aside. It makes your worries return as if it were a cat preparing to pounce on a rat. You widen your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It happens again and again… and again until you realise, you’re choked up.

You can’t say a thing.

So, you don’t.

You get closer to him, still trying to say something. Anything. But nothing comes out, even when you’re close enough to feel his heartbeat. You just stare at each other in his doorway, openly exposed to anyone who may decide to ascend the stairs.

“I— I missed you too, Rinnie.”

His eyes soften at your sensitivity. The way that you have no qualms in making yourself susceptible to a painful rejection.

He lets you in, kicking the door behind himself before leaning back on it.

“You missed me, huh?” he speaks, his head droops backwards until there’s a gentle thud against the wooden door. His eyes are so heavy, his gaze is narrow. And still you can’t help but seek love and comfort from him as he looks at your with such disdain. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous because you can’t have me?”

His words are hurtful, regardless of how valid of a question it is. It’s possible, sure, but it feels like more than that. You knew when you ended things that it was the right decision. But now it feels like a mistake, something rash you did in the heat of the moment. You didn’t give him a chance. You didn’t give either of you a chance.

And now, despite everything, you want to.

“You said you missed me…” you tell him, meekly, “I mean it, Rin. Did you mean it?”

He doesn’t say anything, he just stares. You always hated it when he did this, and it feels worse now, somehow. His eyes are terrifying and yet you can’t stop staring back at him. They’re piercing, like icicles falling from a height and impaling you without remorse.

“Rin…” you speak, closing the distance between you again. Your breath hitches as you approach, shaky hands reach out to rest on his chest, and you swallow before speaking once more. “Rinnie.”

He grabs your wrists and spins you around, pinning you against the door behind you. Your heart rate is rapid, and his isn’t much better. You’re staring again, but you bite your tongue.

Your lips meet as his crash against your own. He lifts you up, just as he had hours prior, and carries you to his bed. Your breathing is heavy, you pant furiously as you roll your hips against him in a bid to alleviate the tension that has been brewing since early evening. He drops you down on the bed, his body smothers yours as he lies on top of you.

His hips roll into your soaking core, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.

“I meant what I said,” he tells you before silencing himself with another kiss. “Fuckin’ missed you.” he wraps his arm around your back and lifts your body further up the bed with ease, determined to get your head comfortable in the pillows.

You wince as he strips you of your pyjama bottoms and peels away your panties from your dripping cunt. It’s too dark to see you, but it’s enough. The way the moonlight bleeds through his windows turns your petalled flesh into a galaxy. Between your legs lies a constellation of the prettiest stars, and there’s nothing more that he needs.

He pulls his sweater over his head, discarding it somewhere unknown as if it means nothing. It’s true, in this moment. Nothing matters but being intimately bare with each other.

Your cunt, his cunt, is committed to memory. He could recognise how your intimate folds feel among others even if blindfolded. Because you were made for him. Of this, he’s sure. Your cunt belongs to him, and you would have done well to remember that.

“I can’t wait, princess,” he explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Please, fuck me, I can’t wait anymore. Rinnie I c—can’t.”

“Shhhh,” he whispers, freeing his cock just enough from their confines to line his length up with you. You sob when you feel his pretty tip catch against your hole. And he coos so sweetly as he teases you with that feeling. Your pretty tears are like diamonds dripping from your eyes as the blinding moonlight ignites them. “I’ve always given you whatever you want, I’m not gonna stop now.” he tells you.

It's the only warning you get before he pushes into you. He sinks slowly until you’re filled up to the brim and you’re sure you can feel him in your throat. It’s like nothing has changed. Every ridge and vein feels so familiar, you’ve never known a feeling better than you know this one. A ribald dance that only the two of you know.

His tip kisses your gooey insides in the most delectable way. Just as it always had in those ethereal nights you spent with him throughout your relationship. He holds your jaw with one hand, and it’s rough. A commanding force that’s imploring you to indulge him in this.

Give him your everything, mind body and soul. He can see how your eyes want to wander. They want to stray and abandon him just like you had months ago. But he’s doing this for you, he thinks you should understand that.

The least you owe him is your loving eyes on his.

Your love is trapped in your throat as you force it to stay there. His eyes are so beautiful and his body feels like you’re home again. You want to tell him, it’s making you cry even more. You can’t help but wonder if that’s enough, alone. If he can see the love you’re pouring into the tears you shed, will he understand what you’re so scared to convey?

He surprises you, however, as he spills himself inside of you after a few deep strokes. It snaps you away from your panicked mind as you feel warmth fill you. And that feels like love, to you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” he tells you, stopping you from replying with a bruising kiss. “I don’t want to stop.” he pushes your little vest up your body until your tits spring free.

You moan beautifully as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, gently caressing the raised bud with his tongue. A gentle yet rough hand delicately pushes your tensing legs apart from each other, not caring in the least if his seed drips onto the sheets below. You gasp as you feel two fingers circle your sticky clit.

“Rinnie…” you whimper.

“I know.” he breaths against your damp nipple, his breath warms your skin before he sinks two heavy fingers into your needy heat. He humps his leaking, coated cock against your side as his length softens slowly. His rutting is in tandem with his fingers prodding your cum coated walls.

Your fingers run through his hair as he continues to suckle on your tits, your second-hand flies to join the first as he alternates from one nipple to the other. And he groans as you tug at his Sacramento coloured locks. The more time you’re with him like this, the more you begin to slip into old habits.

“Think I— f-fuck… Rin.” you mutter, moving your hand to grip the sheets below as he brings you to a tantalizing edge.

“Go on, princess,” he whispers into your pretty skin. “Show me how much you miss me.”

The coil snaps at his silver tongue and salacious language. He never had to try hard to convince you to submit to his commands in the past. Always so eager to please and starved for his touch. You could never get enough of him, and you’ve never been like that with a man before. He makes you greedy, and impatient.

So when he says jump, you show him how high you’re prepared to go for him.

He makes you look at him as you orgasm. Teal eyes, still somehow so radiant even in darkness, hold a neediness you haven’t seen in a long time. You cum, hard, dousing his fingers in your juices as he carries on finger fucking his cum deeper into your insides. And you feel him kiss you. It’s sloppy and pornographic as you swap spit and still moan into his mouth as he drags and pulls every trace of your orgasm from you.

You pant, relaxing your body as the tryst comes to a satisfying end.

“That was amaz—”

“I told you, I’m not ready to stop yet.” he tells you.

He sensually kisses and sucks your neck, though you’re certain it isn’t hard enough to stake his claim on you. He wouldn’t need to, anyway. You both know who you belong to, after all. You watch him as he leaves a trail of kisses down your body. His lips pepper across your collarbone before kissing between the fat of your breasts.

His shushing hits your ears as his mouth comes close to your pussy. His breath fans across your sex, and you feel just how weighty each breath is as he admires your glistening folds as if for the first time.

He gently moves one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, while he pushes the other one into your chest.

His tongue darts out, caressing your exposed clit as he keeps your legs far from each other. Your head falls back into the pillows as the angle makes you delirious. He looks up to see your facial expressions, smirking into your heat when he notices how much you’re enjoying him.

“Rinnie—” you moan, though you’re ultimately ignored. “Rin. Please!” you cry, begging for a bit of reprieve.

“You know what I want.” he tells you, quietly.

You don’t know, not until he frees your leg and sinks his fingers into your heat again. And they curl. It’s devilish and titillating and you just about scream from the feeling. You don’t tell him to stop, though. You wouldn’t dream of it. His arm wraps firmly around your thigh and keeps you fixed in place as you try to flee. But you’re trapped, fated to fall from a height until he’s satisfied.

“Let me see it,” he whispers. Your moans become strident as he digs and teases your spongy interior, searching for what’s rightfully his. He’s there. He’s right there. His jaw hangs low as your toes curl violently, and you make a sloppy mess as you cum perversely. “Goooood girl, good fucking girl. That’s how I like to see my pretty baby cum, jus’ like that.” he grins before slurping up your orgasm. Your pussy gushes like a fountain for him, and it’s everything he’s wanted and needed for months now.

He doesn’t care about getting a little wet.

He couldn’t care less that the front of his hair is almost as soaking as yours.

You hadn’t noticed while you were experiencing the bliss that is Rin Itoshi’s tongue, but he’s been rutting his length pathetically into the mattress as he devours your essence. Each lewd slurp and divine suckle, he’d been grinding his aching cock into the plush mattress below you both.

And he still is.

Pearly pre drools from his slit as he carries on, though he isn’t sure he can stop. But when your cunt stops twitching, he finds the will to proceed. He rests his hands on both of your knees as you put your legs together, waiting to see what he wants to do with you next.

He rakes his fingers through his damp locks, and your cunt flutters at the sight of him pushing his hair back. It flops back into place as he comes down to kiss you again. You wrap your arms around his back, and he moves your body with his until you’re straddling him.

“Rin, I—”

He doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His cock is standing to attention for you again, and he needs to be buried inside. You feel him line his length up, and he covers your mouth with his hand as you attempt to screech out in paradisical bliss as he fills you again.

“Let me do the work,” he tells you, and you nod. “But put your hand here,” he requests, grabbing your wrist until your hand envelops his neck.

You’re worried about falling backwards as he sits with you on top on the edge of his bed. But your safety doesn’t come into question as his fingers sink into your hips to keep you secure. You cry, whimper, and whine as you feel him fuck up into you.

He rewards you with harder and deeper strokes when you softly squeeze the sides of his neck, cock twitching pathetically as he realises how enamoured he is with you still.

“You’re so fucking perfect for me.” he tells you, eyes rolling back until they turn white. The gentle squeeze of your little fingers will always be his undoing.

“Rinnie I—”

“D-Don’t.” he requests, hips stuttering as the thought of you saying what he thinks you’re about to makes him spiral. His heart rate reaches heights he wasn’t sure was possible as he hopes you aren’t about to ruin this. Ruin whatever this even is.

“I love you.” you cry, “I love you s-so much.”

“Fuck,” he pants, slowing ever so slightly so he doesn’t cum before you get to again. He tucks your hair behind your ear. His hips roll and his defined body perfectly stimulates your throbbing clit. “I love you.” he confesses, quietly, kissing you sweetly after the fact.

“Nngh, fuck—!” you wince, your walls tighten around him as you start to feel yourself coming undone once again. So he fucks into you, hard, eager to help you along. “’m cumming, aah!”

You can only assume how red and sweaty his face is as he fucks into you with a passion and vigour you’ve never felt from him before. He has an unyielding need to please and remind you how much he had loved you with every deep, unrelenting stroke.

You cum with him.

And it’s transcendent.

“Did you mean it, princess?” he asks, heavy breaths huffing across your dewy skin. “Do you love me?”

“… Yes, Rinnie—” you pause. “I still love you…”

He kisses your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your torso and holds you close. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was worried to let you go. He lies back and keeps you pressed firmly against him. He plays with your hair as you rest on him. Contentment seems to fill the room as you do nothing but lie like this together. There isn’t a sound other than exhausted breaths and beating hearts.

“I should shower and change the sheets.” he muses into your hair; it only causes you to snuggle further into him. “You should shower with me.”

“I’d like that.” you smile, giddy over the idea of seeing him under artificial lighting and witnessing how his expressions really change when he’s with you intimately.

There’s a niggling feeling, though. That everything is too good to be true. You’re sure this is real, but you have a fleeting thought of being asleep in your bedroom after saying you’d go to bed early. His heart beating against your cheek feels real, though. So does his bare flesh and gentle touch.

Everything is too perfect, though.

You wonder when the bubble will burst.

--

© 2023 rinhaler

three's a... - jean kirschstein x afab!reader x eren jaeger - 18+!!!

i feel like i have mentioned the possibility of giving y'all an erejean threesome way too many times to keep holding out on you, so now that i've finally nitpicked this fic to death, here we are!! literally living my dreams vicariously through this fic. i'm still not 100% happy with it, but eren and jean are sexy here and are doing half of the work of making this worth the read for me lolol. it's also written mostly through jean's pov which was interesting to play with.

pairing: eren jaeger x reader x jean kirschstein

wc: 6.5k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, threesome, established relationship (eren's ur perfect bf and u guys can't stop having sex with jean lol), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, anal (fingering and fucking), swearing, use of names (slut, brat, pretty girl, good girl, angel), mean dom eren vs soft dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie, double penetration, bicurious jean and bicurious eren (tasty, they definitely don't keep their hands to themselves), polyamory implied

buckle up, this was a blast to write and i hope it's equally as fun to read. enjoy <33

-

Jean should definitely not be here.

He should absolutely not be on his living room couch with Eren Jaeger’s girlfriend’s head in his lap, playing idly with her hair. By all traditional conventions and rules of exclusive relationships, Jean’s fairly sure that letting your girlfriend rest her head on the crotch of your roommate while he strokes her hair is on the no-no list. Not for Eren, apparently, who has your feet in his lap on the other end of the couch, playing with your toes absentmindedly and making you giggle and kick him in protest. Jean should not be here, but you and Eren have made a habit of roping him into circumstances that he would never admit to, not even at gunpoint.

If Jean is brutally, painfully honest with himself, he knows he had gotten himself into this. You were just so cute, wisping around their apartment in a big tshirt and tiny shorts in the mornings, always making sure to save him a cup of coffee. Maybe he had let his lingering glances linger just a little too long, smirked over his coffee mug at you one too many times, come up behind you to help you reach something on the top shelf and leaned a little too close, Jean couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused Eren to notice his clear attraction towards you, but he did. Instead of getting his ass kicked like he had expected when you and Eren sat down to confront him, Jean had learned something.

Eren Jaeger has a greedy, spoiled brat of a girlfriend.

That had been the first time Jean came in you, fucking into your throat while Eren watched from across the room, palming over the bulge in his jeans. The second time, the two of you had invited Jean out for a drink, which, in hindsight, he should have seen the ulterior motive from a mile away. He had ended up cumming in your pussy, bending you over in the bar bathroom with Eren’s cock in your mouth. The third time had been in Eren’s bedroom as you rode him, Eren sitting behind you and working your hips over Jean’s cock as you wailed.

Jean had stopped his ministrations in your hair as he was reflecting on how exactly he got into this situation, trying very hard not to think too far into the filthy details to prevent propping your head up with an erection. You make a little noise of discontent, grabbing at his hands and urging them back to your hair.

“Jean, don’t stop. Feels good.”

Jean’s mouth tightens into a thin line at your choice of words, words he’s heard from you before under very different circumstances, but he obliges. So much for self control. Eren raises a smug eyebrow at him from across the couch.

“You’re giving her what she wants, right, Kirschtein?”

Jesus, you two are insatiable, still managing to grate on Jean’s razor-thin willpower with all of your clothes on. Jean wonders briefly what the appeal is for Eren, if he gets off on watching you take another man’s cock, bring another man near to tears with your warm, silken cunt. Does Eren enjoy dangling you in front of Jean until he’s forced to give in? Eren’s gaze lingers on Jean’s hands, threading through your hair, awaiting an answer.

“Yeah,” Jean says, not trusting any more words to his loose lips. They’ve already betrayed him three times now, saying yes when they should have been saying no.

“Good,” Eren responds simply, offering a small smile that, to anyone else, looks innocent. Jean knows Eren better than that. He watches as Eren’s hand travels up your bare leg, coming to rest on your upper thigh. You’re affected by it, such a simple touch, such a sensitive little body; he can feel you tense over his thighs.

Jean steels his jaw and forces his eyes back over to the movie. He’s got to stop playing these fucked up games of yours, it’s bad for him and he knows it. He hasn’t dated in months, not since you’d first pulled him into your little world, can’t bring himself to look at anyone else, can’t stand the thought of feeling anyone else’s skin under his fingers. His little crush has bloomed into full-blown lovesickness, and it would be best for him if he just stopped.

All of that ironclad willpower melts away in an instant when you let out a little moan.

Eren’s hand has snuck its way up to your shorts, nudging at the apex of your thighs. His focus is still trained on whatever reality show you’ve put on, completely ignoring the way you sigh under his touch. Jean’s cock twitches in his pants; this is his opportunity to hesitate, to say no, but he stays silent, only watching as you squirm in his lap.

“Eren,” your chastisement comes out as a breath. One of your hands comes to meet Eren’s, trying to push him away, but he simply swats your hand, shooting you a stern look.

“Behave,” Eren warns, eyes dark and dangerous. Jean’s learned that Eren’s mean to you, snappy when you put on your little attitude and fight back, but Jean doesn’t have the willpower. He holds you gently while he fucks into you hard, gives you anything you ask for.

You bite your lip and turn your head back to the TV, one hand coming up to pull Jean’s away from your head, wrapping your fingers around his. Jean’s breath hitches in his throat when you squeeze tight, back arching like you’re holding back a moan; Eren’s worked his way into your panties now, rubbing little circles over your clit.

“Look, Jaeger,” Jean makes a half-hearted attempt to remove himself, pulling his hand from yours and making all the movements to suggest he’s going to stand up, “I should–”

“What?” Eren cocks his head, as casual as if they’re discussing the weather. “Look at her, you really gonna just leave her there like that while I’m teasing her?”

Against his better judgment, Jean flicks his eyes down towards you. It’s a pitiful sight, your eyes already glossed over and staring up at him, wide and pleading, your bottom lip tucked in tight between your teeth.

“Jean,” his name comes out of your mouth, broken and already heady with arousal. That’s what snaps his resolve clean in two. You need him.

“What is it?” Jean hates the fondness in his voice, so glaringly obvious in front of your fucking boyfriend. Eren doesn’t seem to mind, though; he picks up speed, making you wriggle impatiently.

“Wanna kiss,” you whimper, reaching up towards his face.

“Don’t,” Eren stops Jean from leaning down, “she’s been bad today.”

“Is that so?” Jean rubs a thumb over your lips, frowning down at you. He can see the guilt in the way your brows knit together; oh, you have been bad, and you know it.

“Wouldn’t stop begging me for you, wanted to snuggle with Jeanie,” Eren raises his voice to mock you, slapping a hand against your clit and making you jump.

Jean’s face burns; is this it? Is this finally Eren telling him that you’re off-limits, finally deciding that Jean’s had his fill? And he’s going to rub it in his face by torturing you on Jean’s lap?

“Tell him,” Eren demands, another sharp smack landing on your cunt.

“Didn’t want to wait t-til you got home,” your face is already blotchy, eyes clouded with shame, “wanted Eren to text you and make you leave work.”

“And what did I say?”

“Be patient,” your voice wavers, Jean’s heart pounds in his ears, “and Jean would come take care of me.”

“So needy,” Eren tuts down at you, cruelly shoving a finger into your wet heat and instantly removing it, drawing a breathy whine from you, “see?”

Eren’s offering his finger to Jean, shining with slick, eyebrows lifted insistently. Jean narrows his eyes, cocks his head. What game is he playing at?

“What, don’t want a taste?” Eren’s eyes glint in the low light, taunting him. Jean leans forward hesitantly, lets the other man slide a thick finger between his lips. You always taste so good, salty and tangy; Jean feels a groan rumble deep in his chest. The corner of Eren’s mouth curls ever so slightly. Whatever game he’s playing, Jean’s losing. “Touch her, but no kisses. She has to behave if she wants that.”

You pout, bottom lip still wobbling where you’ve pushed it out, but you arch your back a little, straining your tits against your tank top. Jean knows you well enough by now, knows you chose that thin little top and didn’t wear a bra just for him, just to tempt him. You have been bad, but Jean doesn’t care, could never care when you’re looking up at him all sweet and needy. But he knows better than to disobey Eren’s rules, for your sake. Eren will edge you for the rest of the night, make himself cum, and leave you out to dry.

“Jean, please–”

“Sh,” Jean shushes you, sits you up just a little so he can pull your tank top over your head, “I’ve gotcha. Just be good for us, alright?”

You nod and smile drunkenly as he cups your breasts, kneading your nipples between his fingers. They’re one of his favorite things about you; he can’t resist leaning down to place sloppy, open-mouthed kisses along your hot skin, lick around your nipples just light enough to tease. Maybe Jean can be a little mean too.

“More,” you gasp, fingers coming to clutch at his head, “more, I– oh!”

Jean’s eyes flit down your body to see Eren’s now got two long fingers shoved knuckle-deep in you, curling them fast enough to make you cry out, roll your hips up towards him. If he looks closely, he can see a wet patch forming on the crotch of your shorts; it makes his cock throb. He’s never met a woman that gets as wet as you, filthy at the slightest touch.

“You’re so messy,” Jean voices his mind without exactly meaning to, pulling himself from you so he can prop you up against his chest and let you look at the mess you’ve made. You give him a little whine of protest, tilting your chin up towards him, searching for his mouth.

“Please, I want–”

“I know what you want,” Jean thumbs at your lip, “he’s mean, isn’t he? Making you behave yourself when all you want is a little love, isn’t that right?”

“Mhm,” you manage to shoot a scathing glare at Eren that makes Jean chuckle, makes Eren smack your thigh hard enough to echo throughout the room.

“Stupid little slut,” Eren growls, moving his fingers faster, “you’re just all about Jean because he spoils you, aren't you? Someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

Jean’s eyes widen; Eren’s clearly in a mood today, and Jean hopes it doesn’t have anything to do with his presence. Eren’s a mixed bag most times. Jean’s overheard him making soft, quiet love to you, little praises slipping out from the crack in his bedroom door, but Jean’s also watched Eren edge you to the point of tears, spit on your cunt, spank you until you bruise. Maybe Eren’s jealousy finally is getting the better of him, Jean thinks, maybe he just can’t say no to your insatiable appetite, and he is actually pissed that you had begged him for Jean.

“Jean,” you’re clutching at his shirt, moaning pathetically as Eren sucks harsh bites into your thighs.

“Did it to yourself,” Jean shakes his head at you sadly, “you know better than to make him mad.”

“Shut her up,” Eren nods his head at your mouth meaningfully, “I’ve heard enough out of her for today.”

It takes some awkward repositioning, but Jean’s able to pull his cock out, tap it against your tongue where you’ve already got your mouth hanging open, drool pooling on his lap under your cheek.You shove yourself up with some effort, and take Jean almost to the hilt on your first go, slurping lewdly around him. Jean nearly chokes.

“Oh, you are needy today,” he hisses, threading his fingers through your hair, making sure his view remains unobstructed. “That what you wanted? My cock in your throat?”

You manage a stiff nod around him in between the muffled moans you’re letting out around his cock; Eren’s added his thumb to the mix now, pulling your panties to the side so he can swipe at your clit.

“She was fuckin’ drooling for it earlier,” Eren says, meeting Jean’s eyes with a smirk, “should have seen her, all pouty and sad because her Jeanie wasn’t here. Pathetic.”

In the small part of Jean’s brain that’s still able to think rationally with his cock nudging at your gag reflex, he’s frowning in confusion. Eren is pissed at you because you were begging for Jean, and here he is spurring Jean on in fucking into your throat. It makes no fucking sense, really, but Jean’s getting his dick sucked, and not for the first time, by the woman he’s been pining after for months, so who is he to question it?

“Mmph!” You squeal, mouth too full to form a real sound, hips canting up violently towards Eren. Eren laughs, low and cruel.

“Aw, I think she’s gonna cum soon,” Eren pulls his fingers from you, a tear slips down your cheek. “Pity.”

Your cry of protest is whimpered by Jean standing up slightly, angling his hips to plunge as deep as he can. He’s only had his cock in your mouth a few times, but Jean’s intuitive. He knows how much you can take, knows exactly how far to push you before it’s too much.

“Don’t whine, baby,” Jean huffs, “just gonna make him more mad. He won’t let me help you if you don’t behave.”

“Look at you,” Eren runs his hands along your thighs, leans down to press a chaste kiss over where you’ve ruined your shorts, “being a good girl for us. S’that what it takes for you to behave? Need both of us?”

If Jean’s not mistaken, the garbled sound you make around him is one of agreement. The thought goes straight between his legs, brings him far closer to the edge than he’d like to be at this point. He pulls your mouth off of him, making you pout.

“But–”

“I know, I know, you want it,” Jean rubs an affectionate thumb over your cheek, “but you want me to fuck you, too, right?”

“Please,” you breathe, reaching down to wiggle your shorts off. Eren’s face lights up.

“Wanna show him your little surprise, baby?” Eren’s tugging at your shorts now, ripping them off and tossing them to the sides. He puts his hands under your arms, yanking you out of Jean’s lap and throwing your chest over his shoulders. When Eren’s hands come to your cheeks, spreading them so Jean can see, Jean’s heart nearly stops. There’s a little pink rhinestone glittering where your asshole should be– a plug, keeping you open and ready. Eren meets Jean’s eyes, daring. “She picked it out just for us. Want us both, don’t you? Nasty little thing.”

Eren punctuates his statement with a grin and a sharp slap to your ass that makes you jump, nod desperately from behind him. Jean reaches a cautious hand over, puts two fingers around the toy and pulls lightly, just enough to watch it move in you. You whine; he can see your empty cunt flutter.

“Can she take it? Both of us?”

“Oh yeah,” Eren brushes off Jean’s concern, “been using all her little toys for weeks, making me practice with her. She can take it.”

With that, Jean’s standing, padding into his room and knowing Eren’s following with you still tossed over his shoulder. His head spins; you, his precious little toy, have been stretching yourself out, getting yourself ready to have two cocks in you? The thought nearly makes Jean moan to himself, imagining how tight you’ll be all stuffed full.

Eren’s thrown you on the bed none too gently, stripping as you look up at him, hearts in your eyes. He stops midway through pulling his clothes off to grab your chin, offer your pleading gaze to Jean.

“Why don’t you ask him, hm?” Eren coos, looking between you and Jean with a filthy grin on his face. “Ask him again, see if you’ve been good.”

“Will you kiss me, Jean? Please?” Your voice has that thin, fucked out tone to it that drives Jean crazy, makes him want to make you cry.

“Yeah princess, I’ll kiss you.” He leans down, takes your soft mouth in his, Eren never releasing his hold on your chin. Jean can taste himself on your tongue, smiling appreciatively at the salty tang. Eren rips you away far too soon, pressing his mouth down on you far rougher than Jean had. They balance each other well, Jean thinks, the gentle caresses and the sharp slaps that make you come undone under them in a way neither of them can manage alone.

“On your knees, brat,” Eren sneers, the shred of tenderness that he’d grabbed your face with long-gone, “convince us to fuck you stupid.”

You nod obediently, sliding off the bed and onto your knees, reaching for Jean. He steps forward, letting you hold his cock in your little hand, rub up and down while you take Eren in your mouth. Even your hands are enough to drive him crazy, so soft and supple around him; Jean’s head falls back.

“Fuck,” Eren sucks a sharp breath in between his teeth, “that’s it, baby, take it.”

Something possesses Jean, what it is he can’t be sure, but he reaches a hand down to the back of your head, pushing you further down Eren’s length. He half-expects Eren to chastise him for it, but Eren groans, long and loud, a sound that simmers in Jean’s stomach.

Jean watches the contractions of Eren’s abs, trails his eyes up to where the other man’s strong chest is heaving, a strange, hot sensation trickling through his center. It’s too late to look away once he realizes he’s been caught, but instead of finding amusement when he meets Eren’s eyes, Jean finds something else entirely.

Eren’s looking at Jean the way he looks at you, all lusty and uninhibited. Jean nearly scowls at him, everything he’s internalized over the years rearing its head in his chest, but Eren stops him with a hand wrapped around the back of Jean’s neck. In the blink of an eye, there’s a set of lips on his, a sharp tongue licking into his mouth.

Jean lets out a wanton, strung out moan that Eren swallows, echoes with one of his own. Jean notices that your head has stilled under his hand, and he shoves you back onto Eren’s cock mindlessly, relishing in the way Eren’s mouth stutters against his own when you retch around him. He trails his hand, tentative and exploratory, up to Eren’s hair, grabs the bun at the back of his head and pulls. Jean’s surprised at the heat beneath his palm; he’s always known Eren runs hot, especially after the last few times he’s fucked you. It’s only natural to brush arms, brush legs during the act, but Eren’s skin is scalding, damp with sweat under his touch.

It’s not Jean’s first kiss with a man, not by any means, but he’d never guessed that Eren, headstrong, manly, unreadable Eren, had this in him. Had it been hiding there for all of these years? Was it a spur of the moment thing, that Eren would look back on and cringe at later?

Doubt getting the better of him, Jean breaks first, pulls away with a quiet smacking sound. Eren’s eyes are just as wide as his feel, searching Jean’s face for any sign of regret, of satisfaction, of something. A loud whine from below distracts them both, and whatever odd moment was forming is broken as they look down at you.

Your chin is covered in drool from where you’ve been choking on Eren, gagging around him, and your eyes are glossy and needy. Jean’s cock gets impossibly harder.

“What?” Eren taunts. “You jealous that I kissed your Jeanie?”

“Yeah,” you pout, brows knitting, but Jean can see the arousal written into your features. You liked it.

“Get up,” Jean says to you, voice hard and unforgiving.

You follow his instruction, standing on shaking legs. Jean can see the snark in your eyes before it comes out of your lips. “What, finally going to pay attention to me now?”

As soon as the words have left your mouth, Eren’s hand is around your jaw, wrenching it open for him to spit into your mouth. “Don’t fucking talk back, not if you want to cum.”

“You were doing so good,” Jean rubs a hand over your hip, guiding you to lay on top of him on the bed, “what, are you that desperate for us that you can’t mind your manners?”

“I just–”

“Want both of your slutty little holes filled?” Eren scoffs, kneeling on the bed behind where you’re straddling Jean’s hips. “Yeah, we know.”

You frown and lean down to Jean, searching for consolation, but he shoves you to sit back up, admiring the way your chest bounces with the movement.

“Can’t be nice to you all the time,” Jean’s voice is low, dangerous, “not when you act like a brat.”

He can see the heartbreak on your face, revels in it, but it’s short lived. Your eyes fly open as Eren works the plug out of you, tossing it to the side and wrapping an arm around you to take your neck in his hand. Eren looks down at Jean, exchanges a conspiratorial smirk with him.

“Why don’t you ask Jean if you can sit on it while I work you open, hm?”

Your eyes glisten pleadingly at Jean, but something’s come over him. He realizes he likes drawing those begging moans out of you, likes holding you over the edge between the tips of his fingers. Jean shrugs.

“Show me how bad you want it.”

While Eren reaches over to scrounge around for the lube in Jean’s bedside table, you start to work your hips over Jean’s cock, slicking it up with how wet you already are. Jean grabs you by the back of the neck, pulls you to him to drink down the little whimpers and moans that escape your lips.

“Jean, please,” you sigh into his mouth, “I need you.”

Jean’s resolve wavers, but he stands firm. “Beg.”

“I–” hot tears of shame are welling in your eyes now, Jean wants to lick them from your cheeks– “please, I need it, need your cock in me, please, Jean.”

“What do you think, Eren?” As Jean asks the question, it strikes him just how often he refers to the other man simply as “Jaeger”, not by his first name. In his mind, ‘Jaeger’ is his friend of many years, and ‘Eren’ is the man that he had just inexplicably, passionately kissed. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Let’s see how she takes my fingers,” Eren replies, slicking his fingers up with lube and forcing two into your already-stretched hole with ease, making you squeak in surprise, “oh fuck, she’s already so stretched out for us. Yeah, give her what she wants, let her warm up to it.”

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you stammer, out of your mind with want as Jean slides the head of his cock into you with a long groan.

“Shit,” Jean growls, holding onto you tight to prevent your hips from pushing down on him too fast, filling you up too quickly with Eren’s fingers hard at work in your other hole. Maybe he is the nice one, after all. “So fucking tight for me, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, for you,” you hum, lip tucked in your teeth.

“Think she likes you more than me,” Eren smirks from over your shoulder, working a third finger into you and making your jaw drop. For his part, Jean bottoms out, hissing as you pulse around him. He can feel Eren’s fingers scissoring through your walls, eyes rolling back into his head at the sensation.

“You okay? Is it too much?” Jean notices one of those tears that had sparkled in your eyes earlier threatening to fall, grabbing your face and forcing you to look at him. You look beautiful, all stretched around him and fucked out, mind blank.

“It’s a lot,” you nod, sniffle, “but I’m okay, I can take him. Want to, want– need you both.”

Eren’s eyes darken, and Jean can feel him remove his fingers, feel the accommodating stretch of your walls able to breathe again. Jean takes your hips in his hands, rolling you along his cock to grant both of you some of the friction you desperately need. You mewl, leaning over to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Eren’s lining up behind you, running a soothing hand over your back.

“Deep breaths, baby,” Jean instructs you, holding you to his chest. You sniffle and nod into his shoulder, muscles tense and twitching.

“Tell me if it’s too much, alright angel?” Eren leans over to press a surprisingly tender kiss between your shoulder blades and gives Jean a signaling nod, which Jean returns.

Jean can feel it the moment Eren pushes in, feel your body stretching itself to accommodate both of them. You squeal into the skin of Jean’s shoulder that you’ve taken between your teeth, and it hurts, but he lets you, rubbing circles on your lower back.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Jean hums, pressing his lips to your ear, “too much?”

You shake your head, whimpering as Eren pushes in further.

“God, she’s– shit, it’s so fucking tight,” Eren growls, jaw clenched and a little vein protruding in his neck from the effort of holding himself back, reining in the part of himself that just wants to snap his hips forwards into you.

“Yeah, she is,” Jean chokes out, feeling suffocated by the way you’re pulsing around him, by the pressure of Eren’s cock shoving at him. He’s not sure where he ends and where the both of you begin, if there’s even any separation between his skin and Eren’s and yours anymore.

“Feel so– full,” you hiccup, nails digging into Jean’s shoulders. Your watery voice makes Eren pause, rub a hand over your back.

“You doing okay, baby? How you feeling?”

“Feels….” you take in a deep, heaving breath, “good. Feels so good.”

Eren grins, something feral. “That’s our girl. So good for us, yeah?”

“You like being full, hm?” Jean can feel a smile mirroring Eren’s on his face.

He doesn’t miss Eren’s choice of words. Our girl. And you are their girl, you love being full of them. Of course you do. You’re their insatiable little plaything, so good at taking them in each of your holes. You love it, you love them.

“It’s– fuck, I’m in,” Eren’s staring at where you’re all connected. Jean wishes he could see, but the tightness of you around him is enough, the way he can feel Eren through your thin walls, pressing against his cock. Eren pumps his hips experimentally, and all three of you moan in sync.

“Pl-please move, Jean, fuck- no, Eren, just–” you’re babbling nonsensically, music to their ears.

“We’ve got you,” Jean hushes you, fucking his hips up into you and cutting you off, “just sit tight and be our good little girl, alright?”

“Oh g-god.” Your words wrench from you in a sob, jolting with the thrust of Jean’s hips up into yours. It takes some work, but soon enough, they’re pumping in and out of you at the perfect pace, synced up so you’re never empty, not for long. You’re wailing, voice scratchy from all the crying you’ve already done that night, clutching onto Jean like he’s your last lifeline.

“Feels so fucking good,” Eren grits out, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips, “so good for us.”

“Not gonna last long, not like this,” Jean agrees, sitting you up so he can see you, see your wet cheeks and your open mouth, “so pretty like this, aren’t you? All stuffed full?”

“She loves it,” Eren growls over your pathetic, shaky moan of agreement, landing a smack on your ass, “fucking loves us, don’t you baby? Tell us, tell us how much you love it.”

“I-I love it,” you manage, voice wrecked, “love you— fuck- love you both so much.”

Jean’s eyes widen, roll back in his head a little. You’re so perfect, obedient and willing to take both of them, let them abuse your holes. The thought makes him bite down on the inside of his cheek, not willing to be the first to break and ruin this perfect moment.

“Jean, I– shit, I’m gonna cum soon,” Eren pants, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open when he meets Jean’s eyes. “Make her cum.”

Jean nods determinedly, somehow finds the presence of mind to slide a hand in between your slick bodies, swiping at your clit insistently. Your body blooms for him, back arching as you throw your head back against Eren’s shoulder. He feels you clench violently around him, knows you’ve already been on the edge since they started with you, knows you won’t take much goading to break for them.

“That good?” Jean forced out through his clenched jaw, trying to keep pace with Eren amidst your vice-like grip on him.

“Yes, so fucking– oh my god, J-Jean, I’m– Eren,” you’re babbling, close to the point of hysteria, eyes blank and teary. Jean’s free hand wraps around your hip, grabbing hard at the flesh there. He’s so gone he barely catches it, just barely, but he notices Eren’s hand. Eren lays his palm over Jean’s, deliberate and steady, grabbing onto the other man’s hand and squeezing down. Jean meets Eren’s eyes, fucked out and hooded.

“Come on,” Jean rubs faster, harder, his eyes flitting back and forth between yours and Eren’s, “show us what a good fucking girl you are for us.”

Whatever was tethering you to your sanity falls away, and you cum harder than Jean’s ever seen, mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your muscles lock up, legs trembling on either side of Jean’s hips. He grips your hip harder, trying to maintain a pace so you can ride your orgasm out on top of them. Eren follows quickly behind you, biting into your shoulder with a loud, long groan. When Jean feels Eren’s cum leaking out of you, feels the mess they’ve made between your legs, he falls over the edge too, slamming your hips down into his and grinding up into you with a moan.

The three of you collapse into a heap of limbs and sweat and stickiness, chests heaving and muscles twitching. Jean can feel the burn of Eren’s skin and the slick, plush give of yours, enveloping him from every angle, and for the first time in months, he lets his eyes flutter shut, letting himself enjoy the simple pleasure of touch.

But nothing is forever, and after a few minutes, he feels you begin to stir between them, mumbling about needing to go to the bathroom. Eren reluctantly rolls off the bed to help you to the bathroom to clean up, leading you out on shaking legs. Alone again, Jean throws his hands over his face and sighs, deep and hefty.

He shouldn’t be here, he should have never let you both goad him into this.

It occurs to Jean that he needs some air; the apartment feels suffocatingly small knowing that both of you are only a few layers of plaster and a door away. He pushes through regret and self-doubt, pulling his sweatpants back on and scrounging around in his laundry basket of unfolded, clean clothes to find a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Eren’s suddenly in the doorway, scowling at him.

“Going out.”

“You worked this morning. What, do you have plans or something?” There’s a clear note of annoyance in Eren’s voice, but Jean’s too exhausted and shaky to look into it.

“Jean?” You, Eren’s shadow as always, peer around his shoulders, a cute little furrow of confusion between your brows. “Where are you going?”

Jean nearly growls in frustration, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Out. I’m going out.”

He hates the way you flinch, grab onto Eren’s hand for stability in the wake of his snapping at you. Eren speaks next, but Jean doesn’t recognize his tone; it’s firm, but somehow, it’s lacking Eren’s perpetually angry intonation.

“Sit.” Eren’s got one finger pointed to the bed, ordering him as if this isn’t Jean’s own room. He drags you over behind him, plopping on the bed as if you all do this every day. Jean glares at Eren, softens his eyes at the way you’re looking up at him invitingly.

“We just want to talk a little,” you pat the comforter, smiling softly. That breaks him, and against Jean’s better judgment, he’s sitting where you’ve indicated, t-shirt still fisted in his hands.

“About?”

“We don’t want you to think– well, this…” Eren gestures his hands between the three of you, frowning deeper, and eventually sighing, “I don’t know how to say it.”

You pick up for Eren, smiling at him. “We don’t want you to feel like you’re out of place here, that’s all.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “In my own bedroom?”

“No, asshole,” Eren rolls his eyes, “with…with us.”

“What does that mean?” Jean’s heart nearly stops. A small, soft hand over his makes his breath catch in his throat.

“We’re not, like, experienced with this, so maybe we’re doing this whole thing wrong,” you look to Eren anxiously, who nods at you reassuringly, “but…we have room for you. If you’re open.”

“Like…” Jean barely trusts his voice to carry above a breath, “in what sense?”

“It’s not just sex,” Eren mumbles, flushing pink, “to us, at least.”

“We like you,” you clarify, smiling again, “and however you want us, if you want us, at least, you can have us.”

Jean blinks stupidly, looks to Eren to see if his face betrays anything, anything that could explain the conversation taking place, if it’s a joke, if he’s unsure. To his surprise, Eren looks up at him, green eyes earnest and burning into his, and takes the t-shirt out of Jean’s hands, giving one of Jean’s hands to you and taking the other for himself.

“It works,” Eren says, finding some conviction, “whatever you want to call it, this works.”

“For both of you?” Jean can hardly believe his ears, can hardly fathom the feeling of your soft, delicate little fingers and Eren’s calloused palms wrapped around his hands.

“For both of us. But…does it? For you?” Your voice wavers, your nerves betraying you.

“I mean, I don’t know what it is. I don’t understand it,” Jean admits, positive that his eyes are comically wide in the face of this new information.

“Me neither,” Eren shrugs, “but we don’t have to be so serious about it–”

“Not for now at least,” you smile at Eren encouragingly, nodding and urging him to press on.

“Not for now,” Eren agrees, squeezing Jean’s fingers ever so slightly, the smallest, most tentative reassurance, “we can figure it out later.”

“If you want it,” you bite your lip, looking up at Jean through thick lashes, “want us. We won’t be upset if you say no. No pressure.”

Jean thinks for a moment, thinks about everything you’re offering him. You, who he’s pined after for months, so beautiful and sweet to him. He thinks about sharing coffee with you in the mornings, holding you tight to his body and drifting off to sleep, letting you play with his hair. He doesn’t know if he loves you, but whatever he feels is pretty damn close to it, close enough to drive him crazy and keep him up at night.

And Eren. He’s been friends with Eren for near a decade now, known him for as long as he can remember. What this agreement means in terms of his relationship with Eren, Jean hardly dares to press, knowing how Eren is: flighty, argumentative, brash. None of that is written into Eren’s features now, though; Eren’s watching him intently, earnestly, chest stilled as if he’s holding his breath, waiting for Jean’s answer.

Something old and something new mixed together into something entirely unfamiliar.

“We don’t have to put a label on it now, or even go through the semantics,” Eren’s voice is spent, nearly breathless.

“We’ll give you some space if you need–”

“No,” Jean cuts you off, looking between you both, “no, it’s– it’s just a surprise, that’s all.”

Eren snorts. “How many times do we need to fuck you before you get the hint?”

“Eren!” You slap his arm, looking between him and Jean meaningfully. “Not really the time for jokes, is it?”

“I mean, fucking in the bathroom of Scout’s isn’t exactly wining and dining me,” Jean rolls his eyes. Eren laughs at that, unintentionally tightening his grip around Jean’s fingers and making Jean’s heart thud a little in his chest.

“You two are beyond annoying,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. Eren and Jean exchange a wicked smirk.

“Regretting this already?” Eren teases you, digging his fingers into your side and making you giggle.

“Get over here,” Jean pulls you onto his lap, feeling emboldened to press a quick succession of kisses to your jawline, to your cheek. God, maybe he does love you, the weight of you in his arms feeling almost perfect. Eren leans over and tackles you both, tickling you wherever he can reach, Jean pinning you to his chest despite your protests and thrashing.

That’s what’s missing, Jean realizes. It’s not about you and Jean, or you and Eren, or he and Eren. He understands Eren’s bluntness earlier: the three of you just work, regardless of the weirdness of it all or the awkward conversations that lay ahead. It works, and for now, that’s enough.

Eren relents in his torture, scooting up the bed and dragging you with him, pulling Jean’s covers over you both like he’d done it a hundred times. Jean’s last little inkling of self-doubt perseveres, and he hesitates, until Eren tosses the covers on your other side back, patting the sheets meaningfully. Jean swallows his pride, swallows his insecurity, and pulls you into his side, very mindful of Eren’s arm tossed over both of your shoulders, of Eren’s fingers weaving absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck.

And in the morning, when Eren mimics Jean’s loud snoring and you’re playfully throwing little crumbs of toast at them over the counter, the little voice in Jean’s head that had warned him to keep his distance will be completely silenced for the first time in months.