#virgintiy loss cw

[thekillingmoonmoon]

two | lily love

(purity, innocence, loss, grief)

part one / part two

Pairing: Akashi Takeomi x Sano! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, the older brother’s best friend trope but make it soft, discussion of virginity loss, corruption kink, size kink, smoking, soft sex, cunninglingus, one smol slap

DISCLAIMER: virginity is a stupid social construct created by men to control women. Don’t listen to anyone who says losing your virginity to a stranger/casual hook-up is a sin. They’re the sinner here, for thinking that they have any say over your body and worth as a human being. The discussion of virginity here is for the sake of fiction (fanfiction about a 2d man, for fuck’s sake) so don’t take it seriously, please.

Length: 3,9 k (guess who's back on their bullshit)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Akashi Takeomi was not a good man. He wasn’t Sano Shinichiro. He wasn’t a leader, a charmer, a saviour. Takeomi was a schemer, a shadow, a side character. He had vice thumping through his veins, fuelled by the cry of his name by a crowd. He was the moon to Shinichiro’s sun, the darkness that gave Shinichiro light. He was War where Shinichiro was Peace, the roar of battle and crack of bones that followed soft words and failed treaties. Akashi Takeomi was not a good man, and when he opened the door of his apartment to you that following Saturday afternoon, he was once again reminded of his ruinous sin. He cast heavy shadows across your sweet character, the light from his apartment spilling over his shoulders and shimmering on your skin as you stood before him. But his darkness was deeper, undivine, drowning you from head to toe.

“Hey, doll,” sin split his smile, simmering as you shyly grinned back at him. God, you were gorgeous. So sweet and lovely in a little sundress that Omi wanted to do nothing but tear off your trembling form. Or fuck you in it, hiked over your hips, the hem in your mouth, muffling the moans and murmurs of your sin. Omi clenched his jaw, the unlit cigarette in his lips twitching with his self-restraint. “Hi, Omi,” you mumbled, adjusting the small overnight bag on your shoulder. The older man noticed, tilting his head. “You gotta good alibi, little one?” he teased, but a tremor of sincerity ran beneath the sentence. He could not bear the thought of his best friend, your brother, barging in, and breaking the unholy sacrament that lay between you and Takeomi. You nodded, “I’m at a sleepover, and Emma is covering for me,” you gave a close-mouthed smile. Takeomi’s brows rose. “Emma-chan knows?” he gulped. You shook your head. “She knows I’m out seeing a boy, she doesn’t know who,” you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose, “she even tried to pack my bag – so if you find anything weird in there, it’s Emma, not me,” you dropped the offending bag to the floor, toeing off your sandals as Omi closed the door behind you. “Little girls aren’t meant to know this shit, right?” Omi frowned and you nodded. “Blame Gramps, he wants her to be aware, so he gave the little ones “the talk” very young.” “Did he give that little monster the talk too?” “Mikey? Yeah, although, although the little shit already knew everything. You know how Waka brags about the girls he gets,” you shrugged. Takeomi groaned, herding you to his ‘good couch’, already imagining the horrors Mikey and Baji had heard from his smooth-talking friend. “Jesus Christ, the kids are only, what, eleven? They should be playing with action figures, not learning how to fuck,” Takeomi grumbled, flopping opposite you into his other couch, the one with the suspicious stains and cigarette scorch marks. You gave Takeomi a scrutinous glance, “And what were you doing when you were eleven, Omi? Were you already a lady-killer?”

The man across from you snorted, his nose scrunching sweetly, causing your ribcage to contract. “Not a fuckin’ chance, sweetheart. Was too busy fixing up motorcycles and getting Shin out of fights for girls. Plus, you know how shit Shin is with girls. That applied to me too,” he grinned wryly, reminiscing on those high-blooded glory days. He squirmed into the pocket of his sweats, pulling out a lighter and igniting his cigarette with a soft puff.

“So,” he started. “So,” you winced, suddenly awkward despite the silent comfort that still sat between you. You gulped,   “How are we going to do this?” Takeomi let a solid stream of smoke free from his mouth, hungry eyes watching his prey through the white whisps. “That’s up to you, sweetheart. Do you still want to do this? You don’t have to,” he swallowed down the acid bubbling in his throat. “We don’t have to do anything, just sit and watch a movie…” he sighed, “and then I send you home, and we can pretend that nothing ever happened.” Not likely. Not when he knew how sweet you tasted, not when he knew sacred your little pants and moans were to his desecrated ears, not when you were so close, curled up on the couch just in front of him. “Is that what you want, Omi?” you nearly stammered, biting down the black bile that rose in your throat. But you steeled yourself, ready to leave, to take your dignity and virginity with you. You glanced to the man across from you, who was pensively smoking. He doesn’t want this. You decided then and there to leave. You stood. “That’s okay, Omi,” you clawed the words from your chattering teeth, “I’m sure Waka wouldn’t mind, he doesn’t seem to care much about who he sleeps with.” You turned to leave, reaching for your night bag, arms outstretched to grasp at your last hope.

A calloused hand gripped your wrist, long lithe fingers chaining your arm to your side. Takeomi was behind you. “Wait, doll,” he hoarsely spoke, silently shadowing you with his frame, silky hair tickling the back of your neck. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed, hands curling over yours, lacing his fingers to where you stretched out your hand. You wanted to turn, to look at him, but he wouldn’t let you. So, you looked down instead. “You won’t hurt me, Takeomi,” you could feel his breath hitch across your back, his cigarette long left behind in an ashtray.  “I can, sweetheart. I’m,” he sighed, “I’m not a good person. And you’re, well,” he gulped, “you’re precious.” You felt the air leave your lungs in a rush. You tried to turn again, to see the truth in his wild-coloured eyes. But he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he rested his forehead on the back of your head, his breath fanning across your back. You shivered. “I want this, Omi. I want you,” you spilt your confession softly, barely audible above the sound of your breathing.

And then you were facing him. He kissed you, hard, sliding his hands up your arms to grip your shoulders. He hated this. He loved this. He hated the way you just let him have you, your mouth parting in a gentle gasp, letting him push his tongue into your mouth with ease. He loved this, the whimper you let out as he dug his fingers into your shoulders, the little hum you gave him as he spun you to sit on his couch. You plopped back into the cushions, and suddenly Takeomi was grateful for the plush cushions Senju had insisted on laying all over the place. You looked lovely, loveable, splayed out on the softness of his couch, in his house, in his arms.

He leaned over you, placing his hand just below your jaw to kiss you, his thigh coming up to part your legs. He glanced down and groaned at the sight of you, the skirt of your sundress riding up, exposing the soft expanse of your thighs, the fabric barely skimming the tops of your legs. He kissed you more, stealing the air from your lungs with each nicotine-laced kiss, the sweet scent of the cloves lingering around you in a warm hazy glow. You sighed, looping your arms around his shoulders, clutching at the loose material of his black shirt, losing yourself in the slow, sensual movement of his lips against yours, pushing at nipping at your lips until you were swollen sweet. He laid feather-soft kisses across your face. “You’re beautiful, little one,” he rasped, slipping down your body to begin kissing at your neck. His hands began to wander, slowly skimming down, squeezing and rubbing at all the silken skin he could reach. He sucked at the hollow of your collarbone. Not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make you squirm and shudder beneath him. 

His hands came up to cup your breasts, pulling a startled gasp from your pretty mouth. “This okay?” he asked, careful of every noise you made.  “Yes,” you breathed, “yes, Omi.” He slipped the straps of your dress from your shoulders, lifting your breasts from the dress to knead and grab at your plush tits. “Gorgeous, fuckin’ gorgeous,” he hummed, sucking at your nipple, listening to the sweet keen you made as he tugged his teeth slightly at the flesh. He began to hike up the hem of your dress, one hand wandering as the other rolled your nipple between lithe fingers.

You whimpered, closing your plush thighs around Takeomi’s hand, causing a low rumble to catch in his throat. God, you were soft. Soft, and silken, and sweet, oh so, fucking sweet. “Open up for me, babygirl. Be a good girl f’me,” Takeomi shifted back, both hands moving to spread your thighs, his fingers dipping deep into your flesh. You tried to cover your face then, bringing your hands over your eyes. Anything to avoid that glimmering glittering stare, that hunter’s gaze that fixed you from between your thighs. 

A sharp sting had you flinching and pulling your hands away. Takeomi had slapped your thigh. A huge hand was quick to grip your hands and tug them over your head, pinning them to the pillowy cushions. “You will not hide from me, doll. Especially not now,” he grumbled, “Hands stay here,” he instructed, and you nodded blinkingly in response. “Atta girl,” he gave your cheek a peck before settling himself between your silky thighs. “Watch me when I make you cum, yeah?” he hummed, and you nodded. He pinched where he’d slapped you earlier, “Words, sweetheart. Use ‘em.” “Yes, Omi,” you mumbled, and he gave you a crooked smile. He shifted his eyes down to where your legs came together, and he hissed at what he saw.

White lace. White lace lay over your cunt, all neat and modest swathes of snowy softness over your hips, all tied together with a little bow just below your belly. “Fuck,” he glanced up at you, now noticing the matching bralette that he’d shucked down with your dress. “This for me, little one?” his long lithe fingers slid below the elastic of your panties, barely brushing your tummy as he ran the pads of his fingers along the hem. “Yes, Omi,” you said meekly, careful not to break free of his piercing stare, “do you like it?” you ventured. A string of curses fell from between his teeth, “Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, “ I love it,” I love you. He peppered kisses across your stomach, hooking his fingers below the hem of your underwear to pull them off. You helped him by raising your hips, missing the way Takeomi secreted away your underwear into his back pocket. Guilt tinged at the back of his mind, but he brushed it off, more focussed on what lay before him. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your clit, his eyes never leaving yours. He couldn’t stop looking at you, gazing at each little gasp to puff past your lips, watching every twitch and flinch fall across your face.  He sucked gently on your clit, carefully separating your folds to fully see your tight entrance. You tensed at the cold air hitting your cunt. “Ssh,” Takeomi hushed you, lapping over your entrance in a thick stripe of his tongue. You shivered. Forested green gazed at you as he began to eat you out, suckling and licking at your clit and occasionally dipping his tongue past the tight walls of muscles below.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he kissed your inner thigh, pausing to suck a dark mark in the inner sanctity of your thighs. He pushed a single finger into your velvet tightness, sighing as you clamped around him. You whimpered, unsure of the feeling as he scissored in a second finger. He sucked on your clit, running his tongue in gentle circles around the nerves. You shuddered, strawberry sweetness filling your body as Takeomi pressed up against your walls, each slow pump of his fingers brushing over the place that had your curling around his crooked fingers. You hummed, loosening around his digits, allowing your cunt to be stretched out by his prying fingers. You took deep breaths, filling your lungs from their furthest end to the tops of your tits, the entire time keeping contact with Takeomi’s wild green eyes. Their iridescence bewitched you, coaxing you further and further into a haze of dark green lust. You moaned, each pass of his tongue sending electric shivers down your spine, each suck of his lips twitching your legs on either side of his head. You were growing closer, a fact exacerbated by Takeomi’s thumb beginning its slow stroke over your clit after his done.

“Omi,” his name spilt out in a chartreuse sigh, your eyes barely daring to roll back before returning to his steady gaze. Takeomi worked you towards a climax, his movements languid and lazy as he tried to soothe your soaked cunt with kisses. He smiled at the desperate way you blinked back salt-shimmered tears, the sides of his mouth as crooked as his conscience, as depraved as the dark thoughts that swirled around inside his head.  “You close, doll?” he asked, speeding his thumb up until your chest heaved. You nodded shakily, the words barely bumping out of your babbling lips. “Yes, c-close, close, close,” Takeomi increased pressure on your pulsing clit and you scrunched your eyes shut, “Cumming!” you keened, a myriad of strawberry suns bursting in your lower tummy, bubbling up in bright colours that set every nerve alight. You twitched and shuddered, your skin burning with every slow stroke and lap of Takeomi’s tongue over your pulsing pussy. 

“Good girl,” Omi cooed, crawling up your body to kiss you, spilling your slick into your mouth with a silken gasp. He groaned, gripping your hips and flesh, his hair splashed in inky waves around your head. Eventually, he pulled back, his skin shimmering with a mixture of spit and your slick. You reached for him, even as he pulled away, tugging him back by the collar of his tee to bring your lips to his once more. Shudderingly, shakingly, Takeomi giggled you upright, holding you beneath your arms and struggling to keep you on your feet. You laughed then, letting him guide you to his bedroom and flop down on his bed beside you, your eyes meeting in a glimmering chuckle as you both looked at each other. 

Silence fell over the pair of you, soft and sweet, barely brushing at the edges of your consciousness as you rolled over to face each other. You kissed, holding his jaw and humming, just enjoying the feel of his lips against yours. This was different. This was right. This was nothing like the few girls Takeomi had fumbled around with before. The way you looked at him as if he was all that mattered, as if you loved him, that was enough to throw Takeomi further into his damnation. You weren't here for the God of War, for the Black Dragons Vice, for the raw power pumping through his veins. You were there for him, for the terrible jokes he made to cheer you up, for the tag team habit of teasing your older brother, for the linked pinkies below tables and beneath sleeves. 

Fuck, he loved you, and he’d be damned if you left his apartment unaware of exactly how he felt. But the same slick words that normally fell from his silver tongue, came out in clumps of sticky honey, falling clumsily over his tongue until all he could do was kiss you as if it was the last thing he’d do.  Briefly, he rocked back onto the heels, pulling his tee shirt over his head. You gasped, seeing the big black dragon that swirled over his pale skin, clawing across his clavicles in thick black ink. “It’s beautiful,” you breathed, reaching out to run your fingertips along his scarred skin. “You like it, doll?’ Takeomi tilted his head, smiling inwardly as you nodded girlishly. You felt your cheeks grow warm and decided to rid yourself of your remaining clothes. You tugged your bralette and dress, Takeomi catching your hands as they tangled in the cloth above your head. He leaned in, hand holding your jaw as he dropped a deep kiss upon your parted lips. He helped you out of the crumpled clothes, giving you only a moment to answer a breathless “yes” before he had you bouncing on your back, soft against his starched sheets. You were bare before him, fully exposed for the first time. You tried to cover up yourself with your hands, but Takeomi lifted your wrists up and over your head. Then he settled himself between your legs, and you could finally see him. “Um, Omi,” you started, mouth suddenly dry. “Yes, sweetheart?” he layered his love down on you, peppering your face with soft kisses, nipping at your lip as you mumbled, “You’re, um, you’re big,” you gulped. Takeomi paused, holding himself over you with a hand beside your head. He hadn’t thought of that. “We can stop whenever you want,” he offered, but you shook your head. He nodded then, taking in the steeled expression in your eyes as his final warning. He reached across to his bedside table and pulled out a condom and lube. “No condom,” you huffed, “’m clean and on the pill,” you reassured. Takeomi frowned at you but threw the condom to one side before dolloping a generous amount of lube on his twitching cock. He breathed in. “You’re so beautiful, my love.”

And there it was, the lily-white petals of your lust, your love, and Takeomi was the one to colour you red, spilling your virginity in scarlet sighs. He entered you slowly, inch by inch, breath by breath, cradling your head into the crook of his neck as he claimed you. Your entire being burned, a red string pulled taut and then snapped as Takeomi completed you. You could feel his tip just inside your walls, throbbing hot and heavy, his hips rocking deeper with each exhale until your bodies met. Salt lined your lashes, trickling down your cheeks whilst you gasped. Takeomi let out a muffled groan into your hairline, then ran his nose along your cheekbone, pressing his forehead to yours. The hand at the back of your neck moved to gently wipe away your tears. "Hush, little one, it's okay, you're okay," he soothed, "you're doing so well for me, you're such a good girl f'me" Your heart shuddered and Takeomi felt the warm velvet of your cunt constrict at his praise. Your delicate hands murmured up his back until your palms came to rest on his shoulder blades. your chest breathed against his, and he listened to your heart thunder through his ribs. "You can move, Omi," it's barely a whisper, more of a sob, and Takeomi immediately stole your words away with a slow kiss. "Not until you're ready, sweetheart," he pulled back a bit and fighting his own need, he continued, "We can stop if you want - if you're hurting -" "No!" it poured out louder than you intended, and your scorching skin smouldered. Takeomi gave you that wide-eyed look of astonishment that you so dearly cherished, that boyish look of sheer surprise that had you stumbling for words and spitting in stutters. "No, Omi," you repeated, "feels good, um, just be slow, okay?" Those lightning eyes softened to a summer shower, and his mouth curved into a slow smile. he rained kisses onto your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and then your lips. "Of course, my doll," he gruffed, "anything for you."

And he meant it. Takeomi did not live for much. at least he did not live for himself. He lived for Shinichiro, and the dreams in those dark eyes. He lived for Waka and Benkei, for their future, their fight. He lived for his little sister, still so wide-eyed and unknowing. But mostly, in this moment, and for as long as he had held you so close to his heart, he lived for you. Your love, your smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, the way tears rolled down your cheeks as you clutched desperately onto him. He wished he could hold you forever, tuck you into the echoing hollows between his thudding heart and smoke-stained lungs, and feel you with every heave of his breath and pulse of his veins. for you to become a part of him, just as he was a part of you, tangled in your loving limbs, deep within your soft heat.

He pumped deep into you, moving as slowly as he possibly could, his green eyes never leaving your face. He watched as your brows constricted and then relaxed, your gorgeous mouth opening and closing as you panted on his cock. He spared a brief glance downwards, and groaned, entranced by where your two bodies became connected. Your tight cunt barely took him, your folds thick and puffy against the swell of his cock. And you were warm, so unbelievably warm, despite the thin sheen of sweat that graced the two of you.

He reached down and began to trace circles around your clit, feeling as your pretty pussy clenched and clamped down on him, praises spilt from his lips in poured wine. You were golden, coloured in glittering, burning light, each nerve in your body ablaze with want and wanton lust. With each thrust, each carefully spun circle around your clit, you were growing closer and closer to the edge, near enough for your spine to arch beautifully into Takeomi’s chest. “You gonna be a good girl and cum f’me, yea?” Takeomi increased the pressure on your clit. You felt fit to burst, your body filled with saccharine sweetness and tangy brightness. You came with a cry of Takeomi’s name, a sound that would haunt Takeomi for the rest of his days. Your warm walls clamped down on him, almost forcing his orgasm from him in a rush. You came in a shower of white stars, your body static and burning, filled to the brim with Takeomi’s hot seed. You were sated, lost in a soft warm haze that only had you barely registering that the sun had long sunk below the sleepy horizon. Takeomi pulled out from you with an ill-concealed groan and flopped beside you.

Carefully, quietly, Takeomi cleaned you down and tucked you beneath the covers, lighting a cigarette and sliding beside you into bed. You curled up to him, soft and content. And Takeomi knew then, as you sighed into his chest, lashes kissing soft cheeks, you’re breathing deep and gentle against him. He knew he didn't want to be just your first. He wanted to be your first, and your last, and your always But as much as he knew he wanted your always, your eternity, he couldn't, shouldn't.

Because Akashi Takeomi wasn't a good man. and you were a star he could never reach. You were leaving, living, growing into a future brighter than his dark. Who was he to keep you in his shadows, when you could outshine the sun? But he gripped you tighter, folding you closer into him, wrapping his arms around you until he could feel your heartbeat into his chest. Because Akashi Takeomi wasn't a good man, and he was selfish, and for now, he would have your brief forever

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I do not own Tokyo Revengers, or any of the related characters. Tokyo Revengers is created and owned by Ken Wakui. This story is intended for entertainment purposes only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of Tokyo Revengers belong to Ken Wakui. Please do not copy, re-use, or distribute this work as your own

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