Tw: Weed, Reader Gets Visible Bruises.

tw: weed, reader gets visible bruises.

He isnt sure how his apartment became your after club crash pad, but you're here, on his couch. drink and a little high. Tomura knows you're fucking stoned from the way you sink into the couch, legs spread, head tilted back. It almost looks like sleep has taken you, but you'll occasionally look his way, eyes barely open.

"So the guy tried to fuck me, right?" you continue your story. "Pulls down his pants and he's completely soft. Like, completely. Like trying to jam a marshmallow into a keyhole."

Tomura grimaces so hard that he can feel the wrinkles forming. "Jesus christ."

"That's what I said!" you say. "He was like 'baby, I can't get it up, we're in public, blah blah blah.' It was barely public, for the record. A bathroom stall with a door? Like, come on, dude. Man up and fuck me."

Tomura can't stand these stories. He also thinks about them when he watches porn.

"Can't believe that shit ass perfume works for you." He snubs the roach of the joint in the ashtray.

"You like it so much, don't you?" you coo. "Makes your fucking mouth water."

With a scoff, Tomura rolls his eyes away from you. "I have dry mouth."

"Hey," you glance over to him with half closed eyes and a cocked smile. "Do you wanna do me a favor?"

Tomura is swimming on the moment. God, he hates how you know you're hot, how you sway that pretty body specifically for male attention.

"No."

"Aw," you say. "But it's something you'll really like."

With just a hooked finger, you drag your top down, all the way until they pop free. Jewelry catches the light. He knew your tits were pierced - you never wear a bra - but seeing them, pretty gemstones against your skin, makes his body go rigid.

"Suck on then?" It's not a request. It's an order.

Tomura thinks he's smoked too much pot. His lungs suddenly ache.

"Fuck off."

The fat of your tit jiggles when you flick at your jewelry bar.

"Fuck off. You're just horny because that guy couldn't fuck you."

But Tomura is already crawling towards you, staggering across the room, slotting himself into the space between your legs... Your ribs vibrate with a giggle as he desperately leans over, his chapped lips ghosting over your skin.

There's nothing soft enough on him, nothing worth touching you. He shouldn't do this, shouldn't be so fucking pathetic, and yet he presses his lips into you.

The metal is so warm in his mouth. He presses the flat of his tongue against it and breathes in, pulling on you gently.

"Not like you're a fucking baby." You pull him away by his hair, just far enough to give him a fucking look. "Suck'em like a whore."

His inexperience is showing. Tomura sucks until his teeth go hollow and your body rolls, bucking into him as your legs kick out. He toys with the bar clumsily, with his pointed tongue, wetting it with his tongue and testing anything for your approval.

"Yeah, fucking flick it. There you go." Your hand is shifting beneath him, working in jagged little circles. "Knew you didn't have dry mouth."

Oh, that pisses him off. Your smart ass attitude. He catches your skin between his teeth in defiance.

"Mm, fuck." Your back arches. "Yeah, use your teeth."

Up close, your perfume is less gummy bear and more complex. It's flirty, slightly floral, marked with the musk of your sweat.

"Fuck yeah. Mmm. Leave a hickey. Aa-- aaa--"

He does. Tomura will do anything you ask him to. He doesn't know where to put his hands; if he should be touching you or keeping himself away from you. Just as he starts to get a rhythm, you jank him back by his hair again. This time, your skin is glistening with his spit.

"I have another tit too," you direct his mouth to your neglected tit.

You're going to cum; Tomura can tell by the way you're whining and cooing and squeezing that fist in his hair. He can smell your arousal too, hear how your pussy clicks with its own wetness-

It's with a garbled, high sound that you come undone, feet sliding against the couch, torso twitching. Tomura pulls away when you push at his forehead, pulling in a breath he didn't know he needed.

"Shit." Tomura wipes the spit from his mouth.

"Hey." Your skin is blossoming with bruises. "Can you roll another blunt?"

That cuts through the haze of his arousal. He leans back onto his knees.

"Yeah. Sure. Fine. Whatever."

The rhythm of his heart just won't go down, not even as he rolls the paper and licks the edges. It's Spinner's weed, but he doesn't care about that right now, not when you're lounging like that, tits still out.

(He almost wishes that Spunner would come home and see you like this, with him.)

((He hopes Touya never comes home ever again. He'd see you like this and immediately flash that hot smile or whatever he does-)

"Tomu," you coo. "Wanna take a couple puffs and keep going?"

"What do you mean 'keep going?'"

Your knees fall apart, exposing your wet soaked panties, the cotton visibly damp-

"You can try to put that marshmallow in," you laugh. "If you're up for it."