#i wanted to make the second one stick to a theme

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Naive - L.C

💡Who: Lee Chan (Seventeen) x female reader 💡What: Best friends to ??? Angst. Thriller. Soft moments. Dark themes (please check warnings). 18+ 💡Word count: 11.5k 💡Warnings: Profanity. Stalking. Nonconsensual voyeurism. Nonconsensual photos. Cheating. Major injury (Not Chan or reader). Mentions of a car accident. Mentions of sexual harassment. Mentions of panic attacks and almost panic attacks. No smut, but suggestive content, some dirty talk and mentions of sexual acts. Very morally dark character. Drugging. Kidnapping. Restraints. Chan calls reader angel a lot (mostly because I don’t wanna use y/n), and baby in the second half.

Summary: Breakups are always painful, but at least you have your best friend by your side to make everything better. Right?

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- I know nothing about flower meanings, it all came straight from Wikipedia so don't blame me for inaccurate meanings, it's just a fic.

“It’s okay, he’s in the past, he’s not worth your tears,” your best friend soothes as you cry into his chest for the third night in a row.

“I-I should’ve li-listened to you,” you sob, gripping his t-shirt tighter and curling up smaller.

“It doesn’t matter now; what matters is you ended it and never have to deal with that asshole again.”

“A-asshole is too kind.”

Chan chuckles and tilts his head against the top of your head yet says nothing more and simply continues to hold you until you run out of tears for your cheating, pervert of an ex-boyfriend. Proving once again that Lee Chan is the only man you can ever trust to be good and honest.

Over a year ago, you met Lee Chan while in the gardening section of the bookstore. It was a cliché romcom moment where you both reached for the same book and your hands met before your eyes did. He smiled at you with a soft little chuckle and said something like “guess we both want to know what Victorian people thought flowers meant”, which somehow led to you both buying a copy of the book on the Victorian language of flowers to take to the nearby coffee shop with the intention of reading side by side. Though very little reading happened, and you found yourself sitting there with Chan for hours; laughing and talking as if you’ve known one another for years. It was like he was made to be the other half of you, designed with only you in mind.

At first, you thought maybe it was true; that Chan was your romantic soulmate. But you were seeing someone else at the time and pushed the thought of Chan being anything but platonic entirely out of your mind.

It’s a year and multiple failed relationships later, while you’re out shopping on a rare day off, that something changes.

“What do you think of this one?” Chan asks, drawing your attention to where he’s a few racks away donned in the black, leather biker jacket he just found on the men’s sale rack.

“Oh,” you murmur, suddenly hit with the realisation that your best friend is ridiculously attractive.

It’s not that you’ve ever thought Chan is ugly; in fact, you first paid attention to him in the bookstore past a glance because of how handsome he is. But that was over a year ago and your thoughts have never moved on from considering him the same kind of beautiful as you would a piece of art that you see in a store, yet easily move on past without looking back.

Yet now, you’ve noticed and suddenly can’t draw your eyes away from him.

“Hello?” Chan laughs, waving his arms to bring you back to reality when you do nothing more than stare at him for almost a full minute. “You alright? Getting hungry?” He pouts at you teasingly. “Does the baby need num nums?”

“I hate it when you say that” you remind and stick your middle finger up at him, making him laugh while you turn back to the sale rack you had been looking through.

“I know, why do you think I say it?” He cackles and bounces over to prod you and gain your attention back. “You didn’t say what you think? Do I look sexy?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you while posing in the jacket. “Should I get it?”

“Yeah,” you answer with a nod after taking his body in once more and turning away.

“Was that yes to getting it, or that I look sexy?” He murmurs from suddenly behind you with his mouth right by your ear. You jolt in surprise having not heard him approach, then turn to whack his arm while he cracks up laughing. “You think I’m sexyyy!” He sings loudly, just to annoy you.

“Why are we best friends again?”

“I took pity on you and your bad taste in men.” He definitely deserves the hit this time, even if he’s right.

Ever since you’ve known Chan, you’ve had nothing but terrible luck with picking men to date. You always think they’re okay at first, but then the red flags start popping up and begin waving manically in the hot air spewing from their mouths.

You really thought you had run out of bad luck and finally picked a good one with your ex. He was kind and endlessly attractive; a hard worker, yet always made time for fun and relaxation; and his parents loved you.

It lasted a whole seven months before you found another woman’s underwear in his car, and you realised you should’ve listened to Chan’s gut feeling about Kyle from the start. Finding a stack of polaroids of various women getting changed when you were emptying his apartment of your belongings that same night only made the heartache worse. Not only did he cheat on you, but he also likes to take photos of unsuspecting women through windows and cracked doors.

Upon turning your back on him three weeks ago, you decided to give up on men and always listen to Chan’s gut instincts from now on.

You don’t need a boyfriend; you just need your best friend.

Just when you’re about to leave your apartment building to meet with Chan for lunch one day, you come face to face with your ex. He looks, frankly put, like shit. He used to be so well put together, never to an obsessive degree but he was always well rested and tidy, but now he looks like he hasn’t slept or eaten in at least two days with his hair sticking up a little as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly. He’s still wearing nice clothes, but they’re creased, and his shoes aren’t even properly tied.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss while glaring at the man and trying to step past him, but he gets in your path with his hands held up placatingly; he even doesn’t attempt to touch you or get in your personal space.

Vaguely, you think how weird it is of him to respect that boundary yet have polaroids of you half naked in the changing room at your gym. A completely separate gym to the one he frequents too, which somehow makes it even worse; that he went so far out of his way to take the photos you never consented to.

“I just want to talk to you, please? Just a few minutes and I’ll go, and you’ll never see me again,” he pleads. The genuine desperation in his eyes makes you relent and nod. “Can we go somewhere a little less public? I’m not asking to go somewhere isolated, just not the middle of the building lobby.”

Again, you relent and move to the side of the lobby out of the light foot traffic; still perfectly in sight of others yet far enough away to have a private conversation.

“Thank you,” he breathes out gratefully and relaxes a little as you lean one shoulder against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What is it? I’m going to be late to meet Chan.”

“Right, how is he?”

“Good, it’s Chan. He’s always good.” The words are a little pointed, designed to hurt, and the way his features flinch at the jab sends a little surge of satisfaction into you. Though there’s something in you aching at that same hurt in his eyes; it looks too real.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” he agrees softly, and you hum. “So uh, I just…I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

“Cheating on me or taking photos of women without their consent?” You question, glaring again at the reminder of why you want nothing to do with this man before you. This pathetic, sad eyed, mess of a man.

It’s funny how far he’s fallen in so little time. Strange how a man who cheated on you in the backseat of the same car he often pulled you into with shared giggles, can break so much at being called out on his misdeeds.

You really thought he would just move on to the next conquest and forget all about you for good, just like he did while with the other woman. Or women. You never asked how many there were.

Yet the man before you doesn’t seem to have moved on at all.

“I didn’t do either of those things,” he repeats the words he had said to you a little over a month ago. You didn’t believe him then; you were so full of anger and betrayal as you tried to cradle the pieces of your shattered heart and hoped he hadn’t stolen any of the pieces leaving you unable to stitch it back together again.

Now that you’ve let go of most of your anger and Chan has helped you in putting the pieces back together to the point that your heart is almost whole and healing, you can see through the pain and tears and notice that this man in front of you looks genuine. He’s looking at you without any attempt to look aside or shrink away. He isn’t hiding.

“I found underwear in your car Kyle,” you point out, holding your ground even if you suddenly realise that something here doesn’t feel right. “And those photos in your apartment.”

“I know, I know, and I’ve been trying to figure out how the fuck they got there because it wasn’t me.”

“You live alone and don’t share your car.”

“I know!” He exclaims, hands flying up in frustration, though it doesn’t feel like it’s aimed at you, especially as he steps back to make certain that he doesn’t accidentally hit you. Kyle’s always been considerate like that; always made sure to give you a wide berth when he flung his arms around in play or frustration. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a cheating pervert. A man can be against physically harming his partner and still betray their trust so deeply.

“Then only you could’ve put them there.”

“No, no, I didn’t though,” he steps closer while lifting his hands between you, though he brings them to his own chest instead of touching you. “Look me in the eye and tell me I have ever done a thing to make you think I would cheat on you or take photos without consent. I never even asked you for pictures; you were the one who offered and asked if you could send me pictures months into our relationship.”

The thing is, he’s right. Although you did have sex regularly and he would send you dirty texts when he was in the mood, Kyle never asked for nudes. You had to be the one to bring it up and ask if he was against that kind of thing.

Now that he brings it up, you can vividly recall him telling you that does enjoy nudes and would certainly enjoy seeing photos of you like that, but he also knows how dangerous they can be to send and receive because of hacking, losing phones or breaking up. He had been so genuine about it and triple checked that you were comfortable with it entirely before giving you consent to send him photos whenever you wanted.

“You had those polaroids, you didn’t need me to send you any,” you reason in a mumble. You don’t even know if you believe what you’re saying at this point, or if you’re just trying to explain the behaviour away. Something isn’t sitting right in you.

“Why would I want polaroids of random women I don’t even know when I have you?” He asks, eyes silently begging you to understand.

“There were photos of me too,” you answer.

“What?” He frowns confusedly. “I didn’t see those, just the top ones before you took them all away.”

“You know I was in there, at the gym changing rooms.”

“I’ve never been anywhere near your gym!” He puts his face in his hands. “I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I swear I have never been to your gym.” He looks at you imploringly as his hands drop. “And you know I keep my car clean, there’s no way I would’ve failed to notice that underwear; so if I did cheat on you, do you really think I’d miss the evidence and leave them somewhere you’d see them?”

You open your mouth to retort automatically, only to realise there isn’t a single word ready to roll off your tongue. He’s making far too much sense and that doesn’t make sense.

He cheated on you. He’s a pervert who takes photos of unsuspecting women in vulnerable situations. He’s a terrible person.

At least, you thought he was.

Maybe Chan is right and you’re just naïve when faced with a handsome man giving you big puppy dog eyes.

“I need to go,” you decide after a few long moments of trying to form some kind of reaction other than staring at him with furrowed brows. “Chan’s waiting.”

“Right,” Kyle lets out a disappointed sigh, yet nods resignedly and steps back as if giving you space to leave. He hadn’t been in your way in the first place but it’s a silent sign that he won’t try to stop you. “I guess I can’t say anything else to convince you that I didn’t do those things, and I never would. I…I wanted to marry you, you know?”

“What?” You whisper in shock, eyebrows lifting as your eyes turn wide. “Marry me?”

“Yeah,” he lets out a soft, humourless laugh and runs one hand through his hair while looking aside, a shy flush creeping onto his neck and ears. “I was in love with you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah, well, no, actually, that’s a lie.” He looks at you and catches the way your face falls into a frown hearing him admitting to lying to your face like that. “I’m still so fucking in love with you that I can’t function properly knowing you hate me. I’m not asking you to come back to me; I know that won’t happen. I’m just…asking you to really think about it, about us, and me. I never lied to you, never showed you a false me. You know me better than anyone else. Do you really believe I did those things?”

“What took you so long?” Chan pouts at you when you sit down in your usual seat opposite him at your usual table in your usual café. “Angel?”

“Uh, so Kyle was at my apartment,” you inform, picking up your mug that’s been waiting for you for ten minutes already thanks to Chan always ordering for you both. Usually you arrive minutes before your food and drinks arrive, but today you’re late for the first time.

“What?” Chan’s face drops so drastically it throws you off for a second. You’ve never seen such a dark expression on him; you’ve never seen him so entirely void of any light. He doesn’t look like your best friend. “Your apartment? Did he force himself in? Did he hurt you?”

“No, no, I meant the lobby and no, he’s never hurt me. He wouldn’t do that.”

“He cheated on you, took fucking creeper shots of you in your gym and you think he’s above putting his hands on you?” He scoffs, shaking his head a little and pushes the salt across the table to you. You hadn’t asked for it, but you will before you start eating.

He’s always doing thoughtful little things like that for you, but you’ve never really noticed it until the last weeks. Silently noticing what you need and giving it to you with a smile.

But he’s not smiling now. He looks concerned now, rounded eyes locked on you and head tilted down a little as he frowns, almost looking at you through his eyelashes. “I don’t want to be mean or anything, but he fooled you before, angel, he’s clearly trying to do it again. I don’t know what he said to you, but you’ve got that lost look you get when you don’t know what to do.”

“He made good points, Channie,” you reply as you salt your fries before putting the shaker down. Chan doesn’t even look at it past a quick glance before sliding it back to its home out of the way.

“What good points could he have for cheating on you?”

“He said he didn’t do it-” Chan sighs heavily, cutting you off.

“Angel, he said that before, remember? Why do you suddenly believe that piece of shit?”

“Because…he looked honest.”

Chan stares at you for a moment before he sighs and reaches over to hold your hands. “I say this with all the love in me, but you’re not the best judge of character, angel. You’re naïve, innocent. I love that you see the good in the world and everyone, really, I fucking love it; it’s really sweet and cute. But it’s going to get you hurt all over again if you let him fool you like this.”

You look down at your hands in Chan’s, then back up at his face. His gaze is entirely open; big eyes and soft, naturally pouting lips. Your heart skips a beat.

You look away while nodding in understanding, silently telling him that you’re listening to him as you free your hands so that you can pick up your fork.

“Good, I really don’t want to see you hurt again like that. It broke my heart,” Chan says, relaxing as he picks up his own fork to stab too many fries onto the prongs, which he then points at you. “If you break my heart again like that, I’m stealing your TV.”

“My TV?” You sputter in surprise before laughing. Chan grins around the too many fries in his mouth and nods. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me though,” he sings around his mouthful while stabbing more fries.

Even with the view of his partially chewed food in his mouth, you can’t really deny it.

“No! Stop it!” You giggle while trying to block Chan from entering your kitchen behind you. “It’s not ready!”

“Just tell me what you’re doing!” He replies, laughing along with you as he tries to dart around you.

“Not yet! Just wait, you impatient shit!”

“No!” He wraps his arms around your waist to pull you away from the doorway and spin you both, so his back is to the kitchen now instead of yours. “Ha!”

“No!” You gasp and reach out, grabbing fistfuls of his t-shirt and in a panic, you yank him closer harshly, unintentionally making him stumble into you.

“Shit, are you okay?” He worries once you’re both steady and he’s holding your upper arms to nudge you back just enough that he can look at your face. You’re frowning, though he can only see your furrowed eyebrows thanks to your hand being over most of the bottom half of your face to cup your nose as his shoulder had collided with it. “Oh, did I hurt you?”

“Asshole,” you murmur while nodding, even if it doesn’t hurt that much; you just honestly like being doted on by your best friend to the extent that you are willing to play up minor injuries to gain his gentle touch and attention.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologises, frowning at you as he carefully tugs your hand down. “Let Doctor Channie see.”

“You’d be a terrible doctor,” you reply, moving your hand down to let him cup your face so that he can tilt your head into the light coming in through the windows and see your features better.

“What? I’d be great!” He defends, pouting at you offendedly.

“You thought the uvula is what you pee from.”

“It’s not my fault!” He blushes a little at the reminder of his innocent mix up. “Nobody told me that dangly thing isn’t tonsils! And the pee pipe thingy starts with a U too!”

“Urethra.”

“Exactly, they’re so similar! They should name them differently. Anyway, that doesn’t mean anything, I’d still be a good doctor.”

“Yeah, until you try to catheter someone’s throat.” His expression turns unimpressed, and you can’t help but giggle. He rolls his eyes as his lips turn up into a smile.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmurs, turning his attention back to your slightly red nose.

“Mm, so what’s the verdict doc?” You tease, poking at his stomach and trying not to focus on the physical reminder that your best friend has abs under his baggy clothes.

“I think you’ll be okay with the right treatment.”

“And what treatment is that?”

“The best thing for a boo-boo,” he replies seriously, and then visibly nearly breaks into a laugh at the almost glare you land on him. “What?”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Yes you are. My baby,” he coos and taps his thumbs to your cheeks. You hope he doesn’t see or feel the way they warm at his words. “I specialise in baby angels, I know this.”

“You’re seriously ridiculous.”

“Mm, so, are you consenting to Doctor Channie’s effective boo-boo treatment?”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You haven’t told me what it is yet.”

“You know what the treatment for a boo-boo is, angel,” he chuckles and tilts forward to press a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Like that.”

“I didn’t consent to that treatment, I can sue you,” you mumble, trying to distract from the growing pink on your cheeks. Chan’s eyes glide over your features, lips turning up into a soft smile. “Stop smiling at me like that!” You whine, slapping his waist so gently that it can’t even be classed at a slap, more like you’re just putting your hands on his waist with a little force.

“But you’re so fucking cute,” he reasons, smiling wider. “My cute baby,” he murmurs lowly and brushes his nose against yours gently. Your breath hitches at the tender action while your fingers curl reflexively to loosely grip his t-shirt. “Do I have consent to administer treatment, angel?” He whispers, lips so close to yours that you can almost feel them moving as he talks.

“I…” Just as you start to nod, your phone starts to ring in the kitchen, making you jump in surprise and jolt away from Chan in a natural reaction to the unexpected noise. “I should get that.”

“Right,” Chan mutters, dropping his arms to his side with a disappointed frown as he watches you scoot around him to enter the kitchen.

When you pick up your phone from the counter, you’re more than just a little surprised to see your ex’s mother calling you.

You haven’t heard from her since the breakup when she messaged you to say that she doesn’t know what happened, but she hopes that you and her can still be friends as she values you so highly. You hadn’t responded then; you hadn’t wanted to interact with anyone who you knew through him, even if you had regret ghosting her afterwards because she genuinely is such a lovely woman who always treated you lovingly.

Still, even with the period of no contact between you, you pick your phone up to answer the call. “Hello?”

“O-oh thank goodness,” the still familiar voice sobs in relief.

“Auntie? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kyle, there-there’s been an accident.”

Just over an hour after receiving the call, you’re tucked up in between Kyle’s parents on the couch of the private room with their arms around you, both of them crying for their son as you do your best to comfort them while feeling numb yourself. You’re too in shock at the sight of the heavily injured man laid unconscious on the bed to process it.

When you had arrived with Chan right behind you, the pair had just about managed to tell you through their tears that Kyle had been driving to work that morning when another vehicle had violently run him off of the road.

It had been on such a quiet road so early that nobody else was around; no witnesses to give details of the other car, nor to run to his aide or call for help. By the time someone found the wreck in the ditch, it had been long enough that too much damage had been done.

And now, even after hours of surgery, there’s no knowing if Kyle will make it through the night, let alone wake up again. There’s only waiting.

So, you wait.

“They’ll call if there’s any sign,” Chan reminds as he helps you out of your jacket. “You spent two days by his side, angel, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He’s not your responsibility or person to care for anymore. His parents and sister are there, and they promised to call you.”

“I know,” you reply, moving woodenly as Chan leads you through your apartment to the kitchen with his hand in yours to keep you moving.

He flicks on the light and falls still at the sight of the mess you left on the counter from leaving so quickly three evenings ago to get to the hospital. He never learned what you had been refusing to let him see until now. “Cake,” he murmurs, noticing the half decorated cake on the counter, surrounded by all the items you had been using to decorate it.

“For your new job,” you reply with a shrug. “It’s no good now. Sorry, I’ll buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

“No, no, you don’t have to. Just knowing is enough for me,” Chan assures, turning to bring you in to hold against his chest where you melt against him with an exhale. “I appreciate the thought and effort you went to, angel; that means more than a store bought cake ever could.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t finish it.”

“It’s not your fault. Let’s order something for dinner and while it’s on its way, I’ll clean this up while you go shower.”

“Do I smell?” You mumble against his shoulder.

“Like sadness,” he retorts with a joking edge to his sombre tone that makes you jab your fingers into his waist in scold. He yelps and contorts away from your fingers without releasing his arms from around you. “And meanness.”

“Meanness,” you repeat, scoffing a short laugh and leaning back from his shoulder to look at him.

“Yes. It’s mean to take advantage of my weak spots.”

“You do it to me all the time.”

“Yes, but you’re the nice one, my angel,” he coos, pinching your cheek before he lets you go to nudge you out of the kitchen while you try to recall just when it got so normal for Chan to call you his.

Since becoming best friends with Chan, it’s not unusual at all to return home and find him in your apartment as if he owns the place. Honestly, you genuinely think he spends more time in your apartment than his own, especially the past couple months. The couch is practically his bed at this point.

What is very unusual however, is to arrive home to find the door slightly open and hear another voice talking with Chan from inside your apartment.

“Chan?” You call in a cautious, soft voice as you nudge the door open and peer around it.

“Hi, angel, welcome home,” Chan greets, smiling at you and motioning you to join him opposite the two uniformed police officers standing and talking to him in the entrance hall.

“What’s going on, Channie?” You ask as you stand at his side and cling to his hand while remaining just a little behind him and away from the officers. They’re both taller than you and Chan, with one of them being thick with muscle and rather intimidating. Though when he smiles at you in polite greeting, most of the fear melts away.

“This is Officer Choi Seungcheol and Officer Chwe Hansol, they’re here to talk to you about Kyle,” Chan explains, motioning to each man in turn.

“Is there news on who ran him off the road?” You ask, looking at the two men with hope in your eyes and chest. It’s been over a week since the incident and there hasn’t been any more information about who put Kyle into such a devastating condition.

The last you heard, they had managed to get sight of a damaged SUV in the general vicinity from CCTV a handful of roads away, but the plates turned out to be stolen from another car across the country over a year ago and the windows were blacked out so there’s no way to tell who was driving the car. Whoever it was clearly knows the streets well enough that they escaped the CCTV quickly and the vehicle hasn’t shown up since. Nor has one matching the description been scrapped or sent to be fixed.

“That’s not our department,” the intimidating officer, Seungcheol, replies while giving you another gentle little smile. “I’m afraid we’re from the sexual crimes division, ma’am.”

“Sexual crimes?” You whisper in shock. “Wh-what?”

“We’ve received reports that Kyle has sexually harassed and stalked multiple women over the past year.”

“No, he-he wouldn’t-” you argue, shaking your head as your hands start to tremble ever so slightly, so you hold onto Chan’s hand tighter with both of yours to try and cease the shuddering movements. “You’re wrong.”

“I understand that it’s hard to hear these things about someone you thought you knew, but we have to follow up every lead we have to get all the information we need to press charges.”

“He’s in a hospital bed!” You baulk and let out an incredulous laugh. “You want to charge a man who might not even wake up? What kind of a person are you?!”

“It’s not our choice, ma’am. We’re just doing our jobs and trying to get justice for the victims.”

“I’m not having any part in this. I have nothing to say to you. He never did a thing wrong to me. Get out,” you insist, pointing to the door. “I’m not going to let you bring these accusations into my home without proof.”

“We have proof,” the other officer speaks up, earning a slightly disapproving look from his partner, but he isn’t stopped. “We saw proof ourselves; photos of women taken from outside of windows and other positions that clearly show a lack of consent. And a hidden, digital diary alluding to the acts that match up with statements we received from victims.”

“Photos?” You repeat disbelievingly.

“Yes ma’am, and I’m afraid you were in some. Based on the angle and quality, we believe the photos were taken from a roof into what we can only assume is your own bedroom.”

“My bedroom?”

“Yes ma’am. May we see your room and take photos for comparative purposes?”

“My bedroom…” You can only repeat, too in shock to do anything else as you stare dumbly at the two uniformed men in front of you.

“I think she needs a moment,” Chan says while putting his arm around you to support your gradually weakening body.

“Of course, we’ll wait right here,” Seungcheol agrees in a gentle tone and nods understandingly.

Chan carefully takes you to the living room to sit you on the couch and kneels in front of you. “Baby, breathe, come on,” he encourages softly as he holds your face. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t copy me, come on.” He starts to take exaggerated breaths; big inhale, hold, slow exhale.

You blink at him unseeingly for a few of his breaths before your eyes drop to his mouth and you naturally copy the man who has helped you level your breathing more times than you can count the past year.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he praises. “A few more for me, you can do a few more for your Channie, right?” You nod so he smiles and takes a handful more deep, steadying breaths, each of which you obediently copy. “Good, well done.” He leans forward and kisses your head. “I’ll deal with the cops, okay? You just sit here and let your Channie handle it all. You just relax, angel.”

There isn’t a single part of you that wants to face the officers and their accusations again, so you simply nod and let Chan tuck a blanket around you as you curl up against the back of the sofa, before he turns on the TV just loud enough that when he goes back into the hall to talk to the two men, you can’t make out their low murmuring voices.

Throughout the remainder of the visit from the two officers, you don’t move, just sit staring blankly at the cushions in front of you as your mind whirls.

You don’t know what to believe. When Kyle had visited you that day, you really did believe him. Even now, there’s a part of you that struggles to believe the sincerity in his eyes and voice to be nothing more than a clever act to fool you. He has never laid a hand on you, never forced you to do anything or kicked up a fuss if you rejected his advances. Kyle was good.

Or maybe not.

If the police aren’t lying to you, then they have proof; more photos, even though you took the ones you found that time and burned them all, and witness accounts, or well, victim’s statements would be the correct term.

You know it’s possible to spend your entire life with a person and never truly know them, but you truly had thought that you knew Kyle. You had been so close to falling in love with him; that’s why it had hurt so much. You truly had believed that one day, you’d fall mutually in love with him, with a good man, and have a happy life together.

But all this; the accusations, the proof you had found yourself even if you still struggle to accept it at face value, it just goes to show that you never really know a person.

“They’re gone,” Chan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. You turn your head to watch him cross the living room to sit at your side and invite himself under the blanket. He puts his left arm on the back of the couch in a silent offer that you readily accept, shuffling closer to tuck up under his arm and settle when it’s around you securely.

“Was it my room?” You ask, not really sure if you want to know the answer. But you need to.

Chan lets out a breath that sounds like a reluctant sigh. It’s almost answer enough, yet you need to hear it. “Yeah, angel, it looks like it was your room. They took photos and are going to go to the roof of the motel opposite to take a photo from there to see if it matches. I’ve given them my number to keep me updated and so they contact me if they need to, not you. I told them about the photos you found too and that you burned them so no-one else can have them.”

“Should-should I have reported him then?” You wonder, suddenly worried that you had potentially endangered women by not stepping up.

“Maybe,” he replies in a way that you just know means he thinks you should’ve, but he doesn’t want to upset you.

You curl up smaller and turn your face into his shoulder to let the familiar, soothing scent of his cologne and laundry detergent ease you.

Chan tilts his head on top of yours and holds you that bit tighter. “At least he can’t hurt anyone else anymore.”

The words are supposed to be comforting, but they don’t comfort you at all.

The news comes only a few days later.

It didn’t take long to gather evidence to support the accusations against Kyle. The warrant for his home turned up the photos and a hidden memory stick containing a written diary with documents matching dates of some of the statements, though many more entries without a woman to match to the words. The police just had to confirm the evidence and talk to some people before moving forward with it, like they did with you and Chan.

If it wasn’t for Kyle’s condition, the case would’ve been closed only two days after the police visited you, and he would’ve been sent off to prison. As it is, the man still hasn’t woken and the doctors aren’t confident that he ever will, so he can’t really be held accountable for his actions.

When Chan tells you the news, you feel bad that for the first time, you’re glad that Kyle is unconscious and likely to never wake up; at least this way, he won’t have to face the accusations which a part of you still can’t believe are true.

What you are finally letting yourself believe though, are all the times Chan called you naïve.

“Delivery for the cutest baby angel to have ever existed,” comes the greeting from behind the massive bouquet of flowers almost shoved in your face the very moment you open the front door of your apartment to see who has been insistently ringing the bell.

“That is an obscene amount of flowers,” you murmur while eyeing the bouquet.

It lowers and your best friend’s head appears as he pouts at you cutely. “Don’t you want it?”

“Gimmie,” you encourage, making grabby hands. Chan grins and hands you the bouquet, which is literally three times bigger than your head, before stepping into the apartment while you wander off, happily admiring and sniffing the multitude of flowers.

It’s not unusual for Chan to bring you flowers at all; rather, it’s unusual for your home to not have flowers gifted to you from your best friend. Even if he can’t visit you he sends you flowers at least weekly, and the ones he sends tend to always be more extravagant as if he’s making up for not giving them to you in person.

Every single bouquet is always handpicked by Chan; he always chooses which flowers to give you, not based on their colour or scent but for the meaning.

One of the things that helped you and Chan bond when you first met was your shared love of flowers and their meanings. You both know the meanings of a vast array of flowers, and he always includes yellow roses in his bouquet to symbolise your friendship.

Today is no different; there is an abundance of yellow roses in the bouquet, but there are a mixture of other flowers often in yellow themes, as it seems rather common for yellow flowers to symbolise friendship and happiness.

But sometimes there’s other colours; a little pop of pink tulips to show he cares, white carnations with a cheeky wink as he calls you baby angel, fragrant lavender to remind you of his loyalty to your friendship. Every bouquet is carefully crafted as a message; to tell you that Chan is your best friend and will always be there to love and support you.

And today, right there amongst the usual flowers, a handful of light pink roses.

You run through your mental list of flower meanings. Pink roses tend to mean grace, dark pink for gratitude and light pink has a few meanings just like many flowers. Many of the flowers Chan gives you have multiple meanings, but when put together the bouquets he gives you all mean the same thing. However, light pink roses aren’t used to symbolise friendship, innocence, or care. They mean youth, energy, passion, desire. None of those really blend with the rest of the bouquet’s meaning and it throws you for a loop.

“Did they put in the wrong flower?” You ask, pointing to the light pink roses as you look over at Chan puzzled. He walks over to peer at the bouquet and where you’re motioning, before shaking his head. “But they don’t mean friendship,” you mumble confusedly and look at the flowers again as you try to decipher their reasoning.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just leans his left hip against the counter, left palm on the surface and right hand fiddling with the unused belt loop on your jeans as he waits.

“Wait!” You turn to face him while pointing an accusing finger at him. “Is this you calling me a baby again? Light pink roses for youth?”

Chan chuckles and shakes his head, sliding two of his fingers into the loop now you’re facing one another and letting his palm settle against your hip. “No, it’s not that, though that’s a good one, I should’ve thought of that.”

“Then what?” You tilt your head a little, pouting naturally with your innocent confusion.

“You know. I know you know this one, angel,” he encourages and tugs you closer.

“Joy of life?” You offer, too used to him leading you around and being physically affectionate to really register how close he has you, or how his thumb is gradually tugging at your t-shirt where it’s tucked into your jeans.

“No.”

“Well it’s certainly not energy, you always say I lack energy. Or are you trying to like, manifest energy for me?”

“No, but once again, that’s good, I’ll make you a manifestation bouquet one day soon.”

“Then what? I’m confused, Chan.”

“Want me to tell you?” You nod in confirmation. “What if I show you?”

“What?”

He smirks a little, then pushes off of the counter and cups your jaw with his left hand. “Should I tell you, or show you, baby?” He murmurs, voice pitching low in a way that sends shivers up and down your spine. He leans in closer, brushing his nose against your cheek and nose in a teasing manner, but he doesn’t do anything more. “Well?”

It takes a few seconds for you to react; your heart is racing with anticipation, and you need to swallow a few times. He pulls back and notices your gaze slide down to his lips. “Show me,” you say in a voice so soft and shy it’s practically a whisper.

Chan doesn’t need to be told twice; he darts forward to slot his lips against yours for the first time. There’s no hesitance in his movements, no gentle teasing and dancing as he eases you into it; he kisses you passionately from the first moment, guiding your head to tilt in the perfect angle to deepen the kiss to a filthy degree when he coaxes your mouth open only seconds after his lips touch yours.

You never expected this from Chan; never imagined he’d kiss in such a manner that you feel like he’s consuming your heart and soul in the best of ways. He’s only been kissing you for a few seconds, yet your knees are weak, and you have to cling to him to keep yourself upright.

The moment your hand grips the back of his neck, Chan groans in pleased approval against your mouth and pins you roughly against the counter; his hips pressed against yours and his right hand giving up being subtle about his wants as he yanks your t-shirt out of the waistband of your jeans so that he can slide his hand underneath and run his palm against your bare skin.

Of course, a kiss that passionate can’t go on for too long, you especially need to catch your breath as you hadn’t been prepared at all for the intensity and keep forgetting to breathe as your lips and tongue move with his.

Though when you press against his chest and turn your head aside slightly to try and catch your breath, Chan doesn’t stop kissing you, he just relocates his focus, leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Wanted you for so fucking long, angel,” he admits, voice thick with arousal and sounding unfairly in breath even if his chest is heaving too. He drags his teeth over the crook of your neck making you gasp and grip him tighter. “Driving me crazy, ‘m so hard. Can I have you? Can I take you to bed and drown in your pussy? Fuck you so hard I owe you a new bed?”

“Fuck,” you breathe out and grab a handful of his hair to drag him back up. His eyes are so hooded that you’re not certain he’s even looking at you. He looks so far gone and it does dangerous things to you. “Y-you do so much for me, Chan.”

“What?” He blinks away some of the lust dazing him to peer at you confusedly, and a little offended and the out of place comment. “What are you talking about all of a sudden? I’m trying to take you to bed, and you say that? You can just say no, not do some weird speech.”

“I’m not doing that,” you assure and move your left hand off of his shoulder, down his torso and under his oversized t-shirt to find the button of his jeans. He looks down in surprise, then back up at you with desire flooding back into his expression and eyes as you skilfully get his jeans open. Neither of you care that they immediately drop to the floor around his ankles with the jangle of his keys in his pocket, as you get your hand in his boxers. “Let me do this for you.”

“Fuck, yeah, yeah, whatever you want angel,” he approves before leaning in to seal your lips back together.

After your tryst in the kitchen, which lead to half of the bouquet getting destroyed when Chan bent you over the counter chest first into the flowers, sex is suddenly on the table for the two of you. Often literally. It seems as if that encounter opened the floodgates of a year of repressed desire from Chan and alerted you to the fact that his passion is more than just a little reciprocated.

Of course, you’ve known for a while now that you’re attracted to Chan; ever since the realisation that day in the store thanks to the leather jacket, which he is often prancing around in, especially since he’s realised how much you like him in it. Sometimes he’ll even turn up at your apartment, open the zip of his jacket and reveal that he’s wearing nothing but your marks underneath, leading to you pinning him to the closest surface to expand on the collection.

What you hadn’t known is just how deep your attraction runs. That at some point within you, the lust starts to morph and before it reaches your chest, it turns to a love which squeezes your heart a little every time he slows down to press a soft kiss to your lips, or you find him looking at you with eyes sparkling with adoration.  

You never imagined that you would fall for your best friend, yet here you are, weeks into your relationship turning sexual, and falling asleep naked in his arms more often than not while not wanting the morning to come because you know he’ll leave before you’re awake so that he can go home and get ready for work.

There’s a part of you that has, on more than one occasion, almost blurted out that he should just bring his work clothes over; you’ve already made space in the wardrobe to hang his shirts and space in the drawer for his trousers. But you don’t.

As much as you’ve come to understand and accept that the love you feel for Chan is no longer purely platonic, you aren’t ready to move on from your ex. There’s still a piece of your heart in Kyle’s hands, even if they are limp in his hospital bed and your heart should’ve been released back to you months ago.

You’ve tried to move on; you thought it would’ve happened naturally thanks to your recently developed feelings for your best friend and the regular sessions of getting fucked dumb into various surfaces by the man.

Still, Kyle remains, and you don’t understand why your heart won’t let you love Chan entirely.

You hope that Chan is happy with this; that he’s content to spend spare moments between your usual hangouts and your thighs. You don’t want to have to tell him that you’re not over Kyle; you know that Chan doesn’t like the man. Although he never voices his displeasure in you still visiting the Kyle in the hospital, you can always see it in his eyes when you leave and how he fucks you that bit harder when you return.

Hope, it seems, is still stubbornly stuck in the bottom of the box, and has no place in the real world, especially not yours.

“You have a key,” you point out flatly when you open the door having expected the takeout you’ve ordered for dinner for yourself and Chan, yet find the man himself on the other side of the door with his hands behind his back and still wearing his work clothes. “What’re you hiding? Please tell me it’s dinner; I thought you’re the delivery man you know?”

“It’s not dinner,” he chuckles, then brings his hands around to reveal this week’s bouquet. Tulips; red, yellow, and orange. Love.

“Chan…” you trail off, not sure what to say and expression downturned when you look up at him. You can practically see the moment you break his heart.

“Oh, I guess I misread this,” he smiles embarrassed and awkward, even with the pain evident in his eyes. “I thought that you might return my feelings finally, but I guess not.”

“You’re not wrong,” you confess softly. “I just…I’m not over Kyle.”

“What?” His features scrunch in bewilderment. “You’re not over the man who would be arrested for sexual harassment and stalking right now if not in a coma? Am I hearing that right?”

“I still can’t connect that to the man I knew.”

“He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?” His arms lower defeatedly.

“No, he didn’t. He was just…good to me.”

“He cheated on you, angel, he wrote about it in his diary and other women have said as much too. What’s it going to take for you to accept that and move on?”

“I-I don’t know, Chan. I’m sorry but I just can’t do that. I’ve tried to get over him, but it hasn’t happened.”

“Well…I’m not going anywhere,” he declares and steps forward to offer the bouquet. “You may not be able to love me and be with me the way I want, but I still love you, with everything in me and I’ll be here for you all the same.”

“Won’t that hurt you?”

“Baby,” he chuckles and tenderly cups your cheek in one hand, the other still holding the tulips you’ve yet to accept. “I’ve loved you since the moment I first laid my eyes on you; I’ve been by your side through all of the assholes you gave your time to, even if they didn’t deserve it. This one will pass too.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“It will,” a flash of determination appears in his eyes as he smiles at you. “You’ll be mine soon enough, I promise you that, angel.”

At first, you had been cautious with Chan after his confession. You don’t want to hurt him and make him suffer at your side, so you pulled back on the affection and stopped the sexual aspect of your relationship entirely. Chan hadn’t been very happy and pouted at you when you turned him down the first time, but he didn’t push it and accepted it. Though he still reaches out to pull you close to hold and well, you don’t really want to quit him truthfully, so you let that happen.

After a few weeks, it’s as if the month of mind-blowing sex never happened and you and Chan are back to being nothing more than best friends. He keeps to his word and remains by your side as he always has, with no pushing or attempts to get you to reconsider and accept his love wholeheartedly.

Maybe that’s why one day when you’re laid side by side on a picnic blanket looking up at the stars with the snacks and drinks, which Chan supplied for the stargazing session, contently settling in your belly, you look at him and for the first time, you don’t feel as if your heart is missing a single piece.

“What?” Chan asks, side eyeing you amusedly when you’ve been staring at him instead of the sky for a few seconds too long. “Are you about to tell me that the stars in the sky don’t sparkle as bright as the stars in my eyes?”

“Where do you even come up with this stuff?” You laugh and nudge him playfully before sitting up. “Whoa,” you murmur when your head spins, eyes slamming closed and hands flying out to try and balance yourself.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Chan’s hands are on you in seconds as he sits up to support you.

“M wobbly,” you slur, trying to look at him as your hands grip him tight. “Channie,” you start to panic as the dizziness doesn’t subside at all, if anything it feels like it’s getting worse as he starts to multiply before your eyes. “S-something’s wrong.”

“Shh, it’s okay, Channie’s got you, lay down angel, Channie’s got you,” he soothes, gently laying you back down on the blanket and propping himself up on his right elbow as his left hand cups your cheek. “You’ll feel better soon; just close your eyes and let your Channie look after you.”

“Chan…” You’re finding it harder and harder to move your body with every second. It feels as if your muscles are turning to sludge and bones rubber. You try to lift your arm from where it flopped to your stomach when he laid you down, yet you can’t lift it.

Chan watches the panic fill your eyes and strokes his hand over your head, then back to your cheek again. “You’re okay, my love, I’ll never let anything happen to you. Your Channie will always look after you.”

You can’t even open your mouth to respond. A choked sound leaves your parted lips as your vision starts blurring darkly around the edges.

“I will do whatever I need to, to make sure that nobody can ever hurt you again, my angel,” his voice is taking on a strange otherworldly quality, fading in and out every other syllable.

It feels as if you’re becoming one with the ground under you. It’s still hard against your back, yet it feels as if you’re melting into it, like every point of contact is rapidly ceasing to exist as you fight to keep your eyes open.

“Close your eyes, baby,” Chan’s warped voice meets you. He says something else, but a buzzing appears, overlapping his muffled words until the high pitched sound is all you can hear.

You feel something touch your forehead and brush down gently, forcing your eyes closed. You don’t have the strength to open them again.

It’s pitch black, only the ringing for company until suddenly, it leaves.

There’s barely time to register the pure silence before your consciousness melts into the ground to join the rest of you.

Everything comes back to you all at once.

Your body jerks awake as your eyes fly open. The soft, natural light around you is too bright on your sore eyes and the gentle sound of the birds outside singing their morning song pierces your sensitive ears. Instinctively, you close your eyes and lift your hands with the intention of pressing your palms to your ears to block out the noise, but something stops you from raising your hands more than a few inches.

Panicked, your eyes open and look down to find thick, padded straps around your wrists and buckled in place with a chain connecting each to the wooden frame of the bed under you. You tug, but they don’t give. You try to move your legs, but your ankles are bound in the same way; even if you don’t look at them to check, you just know you’d see the same binds there.

“Breathe,” the voice is familiar, is the one that you’re so used to listening to that you find yourself listening and taking some deep, stabilising breaths without even thinking about it. “Good girl.”

After a few seconds, you realise that Chan is in the room; the strange room where you’re cuffed to a strange bed. You have no idea where you are; the walls look wooden and it smells kind of musty, like it hasn’t been used in a while, but the familiar scent of Chan’s laundry detergent meets your nose from the soft, clean pillow under your head when you turn your head to try and find the man.

He’s sitting in a rickety old rocking chair near the closed door of the small room.

There’s nothing else in the room; no curtains on the window on the wall, which the right side of the bed is pushed against; the window is cracked open, letting in fresh air but even from where you’re laid, you can see bars on the outside. There’s a bulb hanging from the centre of the ceiling emitting a redundant, soft orange glow. And nothing else.

Just you, the bed, the chair, and the man you thought was your best friend looking at you as he gently rocks back and forth, back and forth, the chair creaking with every movement.

For tense moments, minutes maybe, you just stare at Chan in horror. This is not the man you’ve spent the past almost two years side by side with. This is not the man you had been seconds away from telling that you finally loved him with everything in you.

Your Chan is beautiful inside and out; with bright eyes always shining with mirth and adoration when they find you, and a smile that could weaken the toughest of hearts. He was love and happiness. Your love. Your happiness. You don’t know where that’s gone.

This Chan terrifies you. His face is flat, no smile, no sparkle in his eyes. He’s looking at you with an expression so dark and haunting; something similar to the way he looked when you told him that Kyle turned up at your apartment building all those months ago in the café, yet somehow so much worse.

For the first time since meeting Lee Chan, you look at him and you want to be as far away as possible, and then further. This isn’t a man you want to be near. Yet, you’re left without a choice.

“Wha-what’s going on, Chan?” You stammer.

“This is your fault, you know,” he informs matter-of-factly. “If you had just said yes to me that day, if you hadn’t held onto that fucking asshole, then this would’ve never happened. We could be at home, in bed; I could be buried deep in your pussy and filling you with cum again and again until you’re round with my baby. We could’ve been happy; had our family, gotten married,” he huffs a dry laugh and abruptly stops rocking. “We could’ve had the perfect fucking family, baby! We could’ve been perfect. But no! You had to cling to that asshole!” He gets to his feet, flinging his arms up in the air as his lips start to split into a disbelieving smile.

He doesn’t even seem to notice that you flinch and try to move further away from him as he steps closer. He seems entirely caught up in his own monologue as he starts to pace the short length of the room to your left.

“I’ve done everything I can to win you over! I studied you for fucking months before showing myself to you. Changed my hair, changed my style, even changed my fucking interests to suit your tastes!” He wheels around and stalks closer to put his right hand on the headboard above you while he stares down at you with eyes wide. “I fucking hate flowers, you know? Hate those stupid fucking things, yet I read every fucking book I could find to learn about them. Learned how to grow them from tiny little seeds all for you,” he points at you. “And what thanks do I get?” He laughs and pushes away from the bed to turn and take a few steps away. “Nothing! Okay, no, no, that’s not fair to you,” he concedes.

Chan turns to face you with his hands and features settled so suddenly into something so placating that you wonder if you had imagined the unhinged mess he was seconds ago.

“I got to taste that pretty little pussy and feel it around my cock, your mouth too. Fuck, baby, I could’ve held out longer if you hadn’t ended that but you, you little cock tease, had to give me a taste of heaven and rip it away from me.” He tuts disapprovingly and gives you an exaggerated pout. “You’ve really broken my heart, you know?”

“Th-then let me go and you never ha-have to see me again,” you try to reason, but he laughs; a full, loud, rolling laugh while leaning over with his hands on his knees as if you’ve told the best joke he’s ever heard.

“Oh, angel!” He exclaims as he straightens up, clapping his hands amusedly. “That’s good, really good. You’re so funny, baby, it’s one of the things I love most about you. You’ve always made me laugh.”

For a few seconds, he looks at you so tenderly that he looks like your Chan again; the Chan you fell in love with, the Chan you wish you had realised was a trick from the start. It makes sense that he always called you naïve when he knows from experience how easy it is to fool you.

“You’re mine now, ‘till death do us part and all that. Sorry I don’t have a ring for you, I’ve never been one for accessories.” He lifts his bare hands to wiggle them at you.

It’s only now that you realise he isn’t wearing a single piece of jewellery, something you thought wasn’t possible for your Chan. His clothes aren’t baggy and hiding his form, and hair no longer shaggy and in his eyes. He’s wearing blue jeans like usual, but these ones are straight legged and show off his thick thighs and ass; his plain white fitted t-shirt is tucked into his jeans neatly, showcasing his slim waist and strong upper body; with his hair neatly styled back in a casual, yet neat, manner. You’ve never seen him like this; he looks older this way, less playful.

It's another reminder that he’s not your Chan. He never truly was.

“I wish it didn’t come to this; you know?” He comments while walking over to sit on the edge of the bed by your waist and brush the back of his fingers over your cheek, entirely ignoring the way you flinch away from this touch, even if it is painfully tender. “You’re so beautiful; I’ve wanted you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, even if you never saw me.” He sighs dramatically and gets up to stand beside the bed. “Even back then you looked anywhere but me. It’s funny though,” he muses, pacing a little as his lips start to lift and bring back that manic smile he earlier wore.

It scares the shit out of you.

“You never once questioned your bad luck,” he quotes your own words with a mocking tone, trying not to laugh as he does so. “Or how it only appeared once I came into your life. You really are fucking naïve, baby.”

“What did you do?” You whisper, horrified at the realisation that Chan had been the reason that all of your relationships have failed.

Now that you think about it, he had always warned you away from them all for some reason; some kind of claim of a bad feeling, a rumour, seeing them kissing another woman. You never questioned how he always had something to say about every single man you showed interest in, or seemed to know things he shouldn’t really know. You put too much trust in the man from day one and now it’s come back to bite you in the ass.

“Whatever I needed to. It was all so easy too, like you wanted a reason to leave them all. I really thought it was because you wanted me,” he laughs darkly and pins an equally as dark look on you as his smile drops. “And then Kyle came along. Fucking Kyle. Perfect Kyle with his clean record and respect and giant, squishy heart. Well, it’s extra squishy now I pushed him off the road,” he laughs, eyes lighting with twisted delight.

“No,” you choke out. “You- no- you didn’t- tell me you didn’t do that to him, Chan,” you plead desperately.

Chan laughs and walks over to lean over you again, his left hand braced against the headboard and the other playing with the strands of your hair on the pillow beside your head. “If only you had believed me. If you hadn’t let him talk to you that day; if you had just kicked him out and come right to me like you were supposed to, it would’ve never happened, angel. You had me right there waiting for you and you picked that asshole and now guess what?” He looks at you with a bright, manic smile, eyes wide and shining with mirth you wish doesn’t exist. “He’s never fucking waking up, baby!” He beams, looking so proud of himself. “I made sure of that!”

You feel sick to your stomach.

It must show on your face because Chan’s own falls and he frowns at you. “Don’t look at me like that. This isn’t my fault.” He scoffs and backs up from the bed as that terrifyingly haunting look returns to his features. “I didn’t think I’d have to go this far; I thought you’d accept all those rumours and evidence I spent so much time, money, and effort planting. I bribed and blackmailed so many people the past months. Got the asshole fucking convicted and you still refuse to pick me.”

Chan sighs heavily, as if it really does pain him, before he pivots and walks to the door to open it, though he turns just enough to look back at you.

“I can’t tell if you’re too smart to believe all that or fucking stupid to still want to be by his side after all the accusations. Maybe he did brainwash your naïve little self.”

He stares at you for an unnervingly long moment as if he’s trying to figure you out and wondering what exactly Kyle did to earn your loyalty, and how exactly he can mimic it to make you his.

“Oh well,” he decides with a shrug, making you jolt at his sudden voice. “Not that it matters anymore because I’m not letting you leave here. If you’re not going to be mine on your own terms, we’re doing it my way.”

He closes the door after him, and you break with the sound of the lock clicking into place.

Tears roll down your cheeks and temples, soaking the soft pillow under your head as sobs tear from your chest. You keep tugging at the binds holding you down, yet they don’t budge.

You’re stuck here.

Even if you somehow escape your binds, there are bars on the window and a lock securing the thick wooden door.

You’re stuck here. For good.

Forever.

Stuck with the man you had trusted to look after you, to be by your side for a long time. You just never expected it to be like this. You as his prisoner; his little plaything to do with as he pleases until he gets bored of you and then… you don’t even want to think about it.

The sun slowly rises higher and higher into the sky and finally, you stop pulling at your binds, stop crying; out of energy and tears with your whole body hurting, yet nothing in comparison to the pain in your heart where it’s stomped into the wooden floorboards and covered in Chan’s footprints.

You dread the moment he returns. Dread having to live your life like this.

But you know you don’t have a choice. You’re his now, to do with as he pleases. You no longer have a choice in how your life goes.

The click of the lock disengaging sends fear racing through your tired body, adrenaline pumping, yet there’s still nothing you can do as Chan steps into the room with a tray in his hands and a smile on his face.

“Hi baby, it’s time for food! I made your favourite.”

As you watch him approach wearing that same cute smile that first drew you to him, all you can do is curse yourself for being so fucking naïve.

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[dick-helmet-magneto]

cool, collected, confident, cocky Charles? or disastrous, shy, embarrassed Charles?

[pallases]

idk what to do here folks im out of colors

[foldingfittedsheets]

The location of the sex shop I worked was a haven for spiders. We had tall ceilings and skylights and unused storage rooms. It was a spider paradise. We quickly sussed out which coworkers to call on in case of emergency. The Dorito lady was a solid ally for spiders but absolutely petrified of moths.

But there’s actually a hierarchy of fear. Most people don’t realize. The person least afraid is the one forced to deal with the bug in question. If coworker B was scared, but coworker A was petrified, well coworker B was gonna have to screw their courage to the sticking place because by the law of fear they were the most competent person on scene.

Thus enters Rick. Rick first appeared in the back storage room. This room doubled as a second bathroom so we went in on a semi frequent basis. The girl who’d gone in to pee shot out again gibbering with fear about the biggest spider she’d ever seen had just run across her boot.

We sicced Dorito lady on it. She returned, shaking her head. “He was squatting on a power cord where it plugs in. I couldn’t get a clean shot at Rick.”

“Rick?”

She shrugged. “Spiders that big need a name. Seemed like a Rick.”

Rick, freshly named, became a store menace. I’d normally say this was probably a case of multiple spiders being mistaken for one but everyone who encountered him swore up and down there could be no mistake. This spider was massive, fast, and distinct. A gladiator among arachnids.

I never encountered Rick. His exploits grew in the telling but the theme was consistent: no one could kill him. He’d hunker in places that no one could reach and dart away when a strike missed. He also chased off the more faint hearted, charging them in bold dashes. There could be no benign cup transplant to remove Rick from the premise. He was not leaving.

The saga of Rick continued for two months. Not seeing him was almost worse, a fearful wariness when going to the bathroom or stepping into quieter areas. I waited with dread, hoping my eventual run in would have me on shift with Dorito lady to protect me.

It was not to be. There was a girl the same who hated my one moment of singing that was absolute piss-herself scared of spiders. She��d slam straight into a panic attack and couldn’t think or speak. And so it was that one night on shift, I heard her scream.

It was unmistakable. I was in the front window turning off the open sign. Through an obstacle course of mannequins and lingerie I performed an acrobatic sprint out of the window, darting up to find her quivering at the front counter, fully crying. I radiated calm at her and said, “Just point.”

I knew it was Rick. Our destinies were intertwined and we had always been pulled toward the inexorable battle that was drawing nigh.

Her hand raised to point to our sandwich board sign at the front of the store. So Rick had the metaphorical high ground. There was no quick easy strike on the slanted signs surface.

I armed myself and marched into battle, my knuckles white on my chosen weapon. I would do this, because I must. Because there was no one else. And because I wanted to close and go home.

I saw Rick immediately and I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen a bigger spider since. Outside of a tarantula, he was truly the most massive spider I’ve ever beheld outside a zoo enclosure or terrarium.

We regarded each other. Rick launched off the sign toward me and I stomped my foot reflexively, making him pause in his charge. Then I raised my weapon. Anything else, I believe Rick could have evaded. He’d bested most of the store thus far. But I had chosen chemical warfare.

I doused the shit out of that spider with cleaning spray, stunning him with a barrage of chemicals. While he froze, choking on the unexpected deluge, I dropped a paper towel over him. My foot came down.

I felt his exoskeleton crunch and I can feel it still to this day. The shattering was as of bones and I truly mourned that we had been forced into senseless war. If only he has cleaved tighter to the shadows. If only he’d crawled willing into a cup for relocation. I released a full body shudder of horror, fear, and adrenaline as I stepped back.

I took several quivering breaths. I donned a veneer of calm and tidied the battlefield of it’s corpse then went to reassure my coworker that all was well, while internally I still shook.

You fought well, Rick. I hope you sired many more monstrous children to haunt retail workers in the years to come. Rest in valor, you monster.

[fluffylino]

pussy agenda with minho

-contains mature themes

this man has to have his hands on you regardless of where y'all are.

subtle touches turn into full on outrageous groping.

you walk into the kitchen, intrigued by the dish he's busily cooking up for the two of y'all. he glances at you, blinking slowly and then rapidly.

"c'mere" and the tone he uses makes you think he needs your help to cut a few vegetables or stir the boiling hotpot. so you prance to him.

letting out a silent gasp when he sits on his haunches. pressing his lips over your covered crotch. and he stands back up, a satiated smile on his face.

"thank you, baby" and he feeds you a small chunk of stir fried chicken before pretending like nothing happened.

when i tell you he doesn't care if you don't shave, i mean it.

he doesn't care one bit.

"every one has hair down there. its natural, lets all die naturally!" is what he says.

"minho!" you can't help but laugh, smacking him.

"nothing is ever going to stop me from eating this goddamn pussy..." nudging you with his shoulder. his hand creeping over the waistband of your shorts.

"...infact i want to spread you open and fuck my tongue into your tight little cun-"

"we're in public! p-public!"

slapping your hand over his mouth. shutting him up before he can finish his downright filthy comment. he raises an eyebrow, swirling his tongue across your palm while his hand sneaks past your waistband.

you're happy its all under the table but its both nerve wracking. the pads of his fingers rubbing over your already wet cunt and the dirty whispers in your ear.

likes to backhug you randomly. his hands squeezing your ass. you're used to it but for some reason you aren't quite used to the way he trails his fingers up your thigh.

cupping your mound and manhandling you to bend over any surface. its all playful and you giggle until he nudges your panties to the side. sliding a digit against your folds.

"always so eager to have me" chuckling in your ear. his front pressed up into your backside.

"pretty cunt. all mine to touch and play with, am i right, baby?"

it works. turning you on and getting you wet in mere seconds. then he walks off, nonchalantly. sticking his fingers in his mouth and leaving you hanging.

don't worry, he just loves to hear you whine about how much of a dick he is.

give him ten minutes max and he'll eat you out like a man starved.

slurping, licking and sucking with pure need. its the same enthusiam everytime.

eating you out is part of his weekly routine. has to do it more than 2 times in a week or he throws a tantrum.

loves loves LOVES when you're compliant and encourage him to touch you.

like when he's driving. placing his hand on your upper thigh. smirks at the way your thighs part automatically, and he takes the chance to play with your kitty.

"can i kiss you on the lips?" minho whispers, and your heart melts. you smile as you pucker your lips, leaning in to kiss him but you jerk up in shock.

his head already between your legs. pulling your underwear down with his teeth. and before you can even process whats happening, his tongue slips between your folds.

hot breath fanning over your pussy. his nose bumping into your clit while he breathes in a deep breath. eyes fluttering and moaning unbashedly at your scent.

you're not even wet, he just loves how you smell in general.

"god, i love you so much. i love your beautiful, soft, warm cunt"

LOVES LEGIT LOVES when you sit on his face.

ESPECIALLY after he gets back home from dance practice. sweating and out of breath yet so ready to be suffocated by your weight on top of him.

"thats it, kitten. fuck yourself on my tongue. don't stop till i say so."

.

.

.

in conclusion, he gets pussydrunk so easily but refuses to acknowledge it.

[smileysuh]

dumb frat boy

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I’d ask what you want me to do to you, but I did some research last night, watched some of that Hentaid shit you were talking about. It’s a lot of bondage, isn’t it, Angel? A lot of… creampies. You’ve got a thing for being held down and filled, huh? I guess…” he lets out a small laugh, “I guess I’m a little shocked, seeing as you’re so sassy with me. Guess you just want someone to put you in your place. What is it you called Johnny? A good daddy dom? I might not always be a dom, but for you, I can make it work.” 

tw/cw. yandere/stalker sub themes, ‘unknown’ caller, he’s horny, mentions of porn/masturbation, weed/alcohol use, unprotected sex, oral (m/f receiving), deep throating, face fucking, nipple pinching/nipple worship, fingering, dirty talk, praise, hyuck has a thick cock, cum/fullness kink, creampie, etc… I pet names: (hers) Angel (his) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.1k

🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…

☀️ mlist + an.  We're back in the Ghostie au! I'm so happy to be able to put out a fic for Hyuck a year after the original story captivated so many of us <3

Prologue

“I’ve got the best idea ever,” Hyuck says the moment after he’s released his first breath from the bong.

Johnny lets out a sigh, leaning back in his recliner. “This better not be another themed wet tittie car wash fundraiser.”

“Excuse me, that idea was brilliant- pairing up with our sister sorority and being horny on cars while in costumes that somewhat resembled cars from the Disney movie Cars made us more cash for the Humane Society than we’ve ever raised, so dial it down on your tone there, Ghostie.” 

The elder frat boy rolls his eyes at the nickname. When word got out about how he wooed his girlfriend last Halloween, the term ‘Ghostie’ ended up sticking, and Johnny’s never been able to let down the sexy stalker angle, even this year's pledges know about it.

“As I was saying,” Hyuck continues, “I figure I’ll take a page out of your book, and do some weird phone call thing to woo my Angel.”

“Oh, so you’re finally gonna admit your feelings to your best friend?” Johnny asks in shock, sitting up to take a better look at the younger frat boy.

“Yes, but after a week of toying with her,” Hyuck announces. “It will be fun. We all know she got her nickname Angel because she’s really more of a demon, she’s going to love this shit.”

“Well, I guess you know her better than I do,” Johnny muses. “So what’s the plan?”

“Basically, you took the best phone call stalker with Ghost Face, but I figure there are other options out there. Have you ever seen Black Christmas?” 

“Like… the one from the seventies?” Johnny’s apprehension is clear in his features, and he reaches for the bong to take another hit.

“Yeah, the one where the dude calls the sorority and is a horny fuck on the phone.”

“Isn’t there some weird incest plot and jaundice thing in the second movie though?”

“No one watches the second movie! We don’t claim the way they butchered the story with that!” Hyuck exclaims, feeling agitated already. 

“I feel like, if you called her, and did the whole Black Christmas thing, she wouldn’t know what the fuck movie you’re referencing.” 

“They did a remake in 2019,” Hyuck insists.

“Did anyone actually watch it though?” Johnny’s an avid horror film lover, and if he hasn’t seen the remakes, it’s not looking good for you to be able to pick up the references, a thought that throws Hyuck off.

However, even though he’s been swayed, Hyuck won’t give up on this idea. “Look, think of it as a Love is Blind sort of thing- I can make her fall in love with me over the phone, and then when I reveal myself as her best friend, she’ll be all ‘woah, we’re soulmates!’”

Johnny looks as skeptical as ever. “Are you sure that’s the way this is going to go?”

Hyuck scrunches his nose up in distaste at the lack of support. “Yes.” 

The elder frat boy takes in a deep breath, shaking his head. “If this is what you want to do, I won’t stop you. I just… I think your Angel would react better if you were just straight up with her. Maybe there’s a reason the two of you have never gone past the friend stage. I think the good thing about me doing this last year, was I was just acquaintances with Tiny, I made it clear off the bat that I just wanted to know her better. If she didn’t want me, then that would be fine. If you do this with Angel, and she finds out it’s you and doesn’t return your feelings, you’re going to ruin a friendship.”

Hyuck thinks about what Johnny’s just said as he watches the tall resident Ghostie take another bong hit. It’s true- In Hyuck’s heart of hearts, he knows that… there must be a reason the two of you have never hooked up, but it’s a reason he’s never been able to identify.

The cocky side of him refuses to believe it’s because you’re not attracted to him- there’s definitely sexual tension between the two of you, so it must be something else. 

He’s so tired of toeing the line, especially since you’ve always been kindred, mischievous, horny little souls.

You were with Hyuck when he pranked Sigma Veta Tau last Christmas and put glitter on their ceiling fans. You were with Hyuck when he put a rotisserie chicken in Alpha Tappa Zeta’s air vents. In fact, you’ve been present at almost all of Hyuck’s master plan shenanigans. 

There’s something going on between the two of you and he knows it. 

Last year, when Johnny had pulled his little semi-stalker Ghostie stunt, Hyuck had noted that whoever was behind the anonymous calls had some balls to hit on a girl that way, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t live up to that.

“Listen,” Hyuck sighs. “This is between us. Angel is going to try to figure out who’s calling her, and I need you to keep your mouth shut, okay?”

“Fine,” Johnny agrees, shaking his head. “Hyuck, I love you, but sometimes I forget how much of a dumb frat boy you are.” 

“You know what?” Hyuck grabs at the bong. “I’ll take that as a fucking compliment.” 

Sunday

You’re in the middle of a much-needed nap. Curled up on your fuzzy blankets, your textbook long since discarded while your mood lighting twinkles through the space, it’s the most comfortable you’ve been all term. It’s late October, the nights come early, and you’re starting to not mind the cool air that seeps through the crack in your window.

It’s because you’re dead asleep, that when your phone rings, you don’t even check who’s calling. You simply bolt up, dazed and confused, reaching to pull your cell to your ear. 

“Hello?”

At first, all you hear is breathing on the other end of the line, and you roll your eyes. You’re no stranger to dumb calls, spam calls, and the like- but then, “Angel?”

Well, this is definitely not a spam caller, they wouldn’t know your nickname if it was.

“Who’s this?” you ask, pulling your phone away from your ear to look down at your screen. It’s a ‘No Caller ID,’ and you let out another exasperated sound.  

“A friend,” the person on the other end of the line tells you. 

“A friend I don’t have in my contacts?” you scoff.

“Burner phone, baby.”

“And what would be the point of getting a burner phone just to call little ol’ me?” you sigh, relaxing against your pillows and pinching the bridge of your nose in annoyance. 

“Why so serious, Angel?”

“Jeeze, dude, if you’re going to do the whole creepy caller before Halloween cliche, at least stick to your character.” You can’t believe he’s quoting Health Ledger’s Joker at you now. “Who are you even trying to be? Ghost Face is so last Halloween, we all know Johnny knocked that shit out of the park. A copycat sequel is just… early 2000’s.”

“Okay, let me drop character for just a second,” the man on the other end of the line sighs, and you giggle at how his voice modulator emphasizes his own exasperation. “Think, horny telephone guy.”

“I wouldn’t call Ghost Face particularly horny, he was just a nerd.”

“I’m not Ghost Face!” he insists. “Scream came out in the mid-nineties, think earlier than that.” 

“What, am I supposed to be some kind of horror movie expert?” you scoff. 

“Fine, I’ll just tell you,” the guy sighs. “Have you seen Black Christmas?”

“Never even heard of it.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “Well, don’t go watch it, it has some cult following but it’s not even one of my favourites- the reason I chose the dude from that movie is because he’s a horny little fuck and calls a sorority house and some shit- and also, don’t look up the second movie, I don’t claim the sequel.” 

“Wow, I love that you chose a character based purely on horniness and not if the movie is even good,” you giggle.

“Well, Johnny took the best slasher caller! What was I supposed to do? Go all ghost child from The Black Phone movie?”

“What’s The Black Phone movie?”

“Ethan Hawke? Horror veteran, who plays the hero author in Sinister, turned bad guy in the 2021 film by the same director?” 

You let out a whistle. “TBH, dude, it sucks Johnny got to Ghostie first last year, because I’d bet money you know more about horror movies than he does.”

“I one hundred percent do!” 

“Okay, so back to the point,” you laugh. “You’re calling me as this horny dude from some Halloween Christmas movie- for what?”

“To talk to you?” he suggests. “To uh… be horny… at you?” 

“And what does this accomplish? I mean- we all know Johnny’s Ghostie story from last year, he called a girl every day, told her to come to his frat party, and revealed himself there. Is that your game plan?”

“I was thinking about it, but it sounds kind of lackluster now.”

“That’s because it’s not an original idea at all,” you point out.

“Sequels aren’t always original,” the man counters. “Lots of movies have the same plot just different characters, some recurring- look, it doesn’t have to be original. The original angle to this Halloween movie is that I’m going to be way more horny than Johnny probably ever was last year.” 

“And I’m just going to allow that?” you grin. 

“Yeah, because we both know why you have your nickname, don’t we, Angel? You’re a dirty little minx, and you’re going to love this.”

“Except, what if, Halloween comes, and you’re a frat guy that I think is ugly?” you ask. “If you know me, you know I have very specific tastes. There’s only a handful of guys I’d actually be interested in, what makes you think you’re one of them?”

The line is dead for a few stagnant seconds, then, “I just am, okay?”

“Cocky little fucker,” you giggle.

“Don’t be rude.” 

At this point, you’re pretty sure you know who’s on the other end of the line. 

There’s been a few tells from your best friend, Donghyuck. For example, he’s the biggest actual horror buff in the NCT frat. He idolizes Johnny, and was always salty that Mark got the Chicago man as a Big and not himself, so he had a close eye on the events that took place last year in NCT’s ‘Ghostie’ Saga. On top of all of this, there’s an extreme familiarity in the way he’s talking to you, a preexisting natural tint to his diction. Lastly, Hyuck’s the cockiest little dumb frat boy of them all, and it’s one of the reasons you’ve always loved him… one of the reasons you’ve also always kept a bit of distance from your best friend whenever situations have had the option of turning romantic.

Well, if this is how he wants to make his move at you, so be it.

Maybe he’ll convince you that he can be more than a good fuck- you’d never risk your friendship for a one-night stand, no, he’ll have to prove that he could go all in, that he deserves you.

And if all else is just extra, you can at least have some fun toying with Hyuck while he thinks he’s the one toying with you. 

“Okay,” you sigh, stretching. “Let's do this, but we can start tomorrow, you woke me up from a nap, and I’d very much like to get back to it.” 

Monday

“I’m not waking you up from a nap, am I, Angel?” 

“Nope,” you grin, mischief working its way through your mind as you think of the best way to throw Hyuck off. “I was just watching some porn, flicking the bean, you know, that sort of thing.”

You hear him choke. “F… Flicking the bean?”

“Come on, you have to have heard of flicking the bean!” you insist. “Buddy, you’re the one who’s supposed to be calling me to be horny, this is your perfect opportunity!”

“Right, I uh…” he coughs. “How’s… how’s the bean flicking going?”

“Dude, do you know anything about seduction?” you scoff. “‘How’s the bean flicking going,’” you imitate. “Lame!”

“Rude!” he counters.

God, he’s so obviously Hyuck and you bet he doesn’t even realize it. 

“You know what, if you must ask, the bean flicking is going really well.”

“What kind of porn do you watch?” he questions next. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you tease.

“Tell me,” Hyuck insists. 

“Might have to get you to beg if you want to hear those kinds of details.”

“I’m the creepy phone stalker, I call the shots.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure you do, buddy.” 

“Stop calling me buddy.”

“Okay, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude either!”

“Then what am I supposed to call you? It’s not like anyone knows the name of the slasher from Halloween Christmas, or whatever. You’re no Ghost Face, friend.”

“It’s Black Christmas,” he corrects you. “And I’m pretty sure his name is Billy.”

“Wow, how sexy, Billy,” you scoff. “You really didn’t think this one through that well, did you, buddy?”

“Original Ghost Face is who? Stu Matcher and Billy fucking Loomis,” Hyuck points out. “It’s not the worst name in the world.”

“Tell me one person who refers to Ghost Face as Billy Loomis though, one person, and I’ll tell you what porn I watch.”

“The… screenwriter?”

“Jesus Christ, dude. That’s such low-hanging fruit.”

“Now tell me what porn you watch.” 

You let out a deep sigh. “All this bickering has me not in the mood anymore.”

“Weird, I’m extra in the mood now.”

“Cuz you’re a weirdo who gets off on play fighting, I bet.” 

His voice takes on a whiney pitch when he says, “Tell me what porn you watch!” 

“Honestly?” You’re tired of this conversation, but you see one last opportunity to toy with Hyuck before you hang up. “Hentaid on Porn Hub, I’m all about that alien, tentacle shit,” your voice takes on the air of a damsel in distress when you muse, “No mortal man can ever satiate me, I’m afraid.”

“Holy shit,” Hyuck whispers. “Are you for real? Tentacle porn?”

“Uh huh, now, goodnight, buddy.” You hang up on Hyuck with a shit-eating grin on your face, knowing you’ve left him something to think about. 

Tuesday

“Hey,” you say, sitting down next to your best friend in the on-campus burger joint where you spend your Tuesday two-hour period between classes. “I’ve got something to talk to you about.”

Hyuck is mid-bite of a burger, and he holds up a hand, covering his obnoxious eating style. “Just a sec,” he mumbles. 

You wait patiently, staring at your friend while he finishes up. He’s in a black hoodie, and black t-shirt, and his laptop is open next to where he’s eating his combo meal. He’s usually here before you are, scoping out a booth and food so you two can chill in peace before your shared history course. 

History isn’t your major per se, it’s more of a special interest, and the same goes for Hyuck. He’s a film major- another obvious dent in his plan to fly under the radar as your phone stalker who just happens to know everything about horror movies. 

“Okay,” Hyuck says, swallowing the last of his large bite of food. “What’s up?”

“So on Sunday, I got a phone call from some dude with a burner phone,” you explain, watching closely as Hyuck’s brows raise just a moment too late to be legitimate surprise.

“Yeah? What did he say?”

“He’s trying to recreate Johnny’s whole Ghostie thing from last year, but as is the case with most sequels in the horror genre, he’s kind of missing the mark.”

Hyuck chokes a little on his food, and he reaches for his Coke to wash it down. “What’s he doing wrong?”

“What an odd question, Hyuck,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “But, to answer it, he’s just… not loose enough. He feels too rigid. I gave him an in last night, if you know what I mean, and he just, fumbled it.”

“An in?” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“You know, an opportunity to be horny with me.”

“And you want him to be horny with you?”

“I mean, that’s the whole point isn’t it? He promised me he’d be more horny than Johnny was last year, but I feel like Johnny probably had this whole daddy dom thing down- I don’t know what this new guy is trying to give, but he’s not giving, you feel me?”

“Huh, that’s weird,” Hyuck shrugs, picking up his burger again. “Do you have any guesses who it might be?”

You shrug. “He told me it was someone I think is hot. So that means it could be Jaehyun- God, you know how sexy I think Jaehyun is,” - you’re relishing in the way you get to tease Hyuck like this - “it could be Jeno, or Jaemin- I don’t think I’d even mind if both of them came up to me on Halloween, full original Scream style- Jaemin is definitely the Stu Matcher character, though.” 

“Jeeze, Angel,” Hyuck grimaces, putting his burger down and leaning back in the booth. “Do you have to talk about two of my best friends tag teaming you while I’m eating?”

“Sorry, babes,” you snicker. “I just think this week is going to be fun, and I can’t wait for my Billy Halloween Christmas stalker to find his A-game.”

You half expect Hyuck to correct you on the movie title, and you see him bite his tongue, fighting the urge to throw his own cover under the bus in a bid to protect the sanctity of cult films. But alas, Hyuck shuts himself up with another bite of his burger, and with one last look at your friend, you pull out your laptop to actually get some work done.

Wednesday

“Hey, bud,” you answer your call with a grin, twirling your hair around your finger while your eyes skim your textbook. “What happened yesterday? You never called.”

“You looked busy,” comes a curt retort.

“Oh… did you see me with Hyuck?” you stifle a laugh, of course he’s going to play this jealousy angle, when in reality, he was probably just butthurt about you toying with him. 

“It was hard not to notice you with him,” he responds. 

“Someone sounds jealous.”

“What’s your relationship with him?”

God, Hyuck must be very desperate to be trying to get details out of you about how you feel about him, through his alter ego.

You take a deep breath, closing your book and leaning back in your chair. “We’re close,” you start.

“But just friends.” 

“Just friends,” you confirm. “I guess, I mean, obviously he’s cute. There’s no argument about Hyuck being cute. And he’s fun, he’s cocky, he’s mischievous- I guess my one concern with him is if he could do something long term. I may come off as a dirty little demon child, but in reality- I don’t want to put all my eggs in one guys basket if he’s busy collecting eggs, if that makes any sense.”

“You want a guy who just wants you, who puts in the effort.”

“Exactly.” 

“I’m putting in effort,” your ‘mystery man’ points out.

“I suppose this could be considered effort.” 

“I spent twenty five bucks on this burner phone.”

“Wow, buddy, that must have broke the bank.” 

“I have money!” he insists.

Hyuck definitely has money, it’s one of the reasons he’s probably so cocky. He comes from a large line of Lee’s, a family group that owns development all around the country. You’ve tried not to let any gold digging inklings stain your perception of the frat boy though, that wouldn’t be fair to him.

“Hey, friend?” you ask, choosing a base level nickname for this man who is clearly Hyuck.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Were you thinking about it yesterday?”

“Thinking about what?”

“Me, you know… watching alien tentacle porn and flicking my bean.” You try to make your voice sound innocent, but you can’t help the mischievous grin that works it’s way onto your face. 

You can hear him swallow thickly. “Hold that thought, I’m going to call you back.” 

“Wait-” before you can get an explanation, the line goes dead, and you release an annoyed huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

He’s such a little shit, leaving you hanging like this-

Two minutes go by, then five- and just as you’re starting to be really annoyed, Hyuck calls you back.

“Took you long enough,” you snap.

“Listen, Angel, I needed to get in the mood. I’m too rigid talking to a pretty girl like you, had to take some of the load off.” You can tell, even under his modulated voice, that Hyuck has most definitely just gotten into some weed.

This is so classic him- and to be completely fair, you’ve witnessed the effects of Mary-Jane on one mister Lee Donghyuck. He’s much more suave while green, less anxious, more willing to take risks.

“So, to answer your question,” Hyuck continues, letting out a breath. “I have been thinking about you. Been thinking about your cute voice, how it would sound begging, whining, whimpering- what little noises you’d make choking on cock, or tentacle-” Hyuck laughs. “I’ll be honest, I don’t have an octopus dick or anything. If you let me, you’ll have to be okay with a human style back breaking.” 

You’re shocked.

Had he really just said all of this to you?

Was weed all it took for him to pull up his big boy panties and lay some actual sin onto you?

You can’t ignore the way your pussy flutters with interest at his words, and you shift uncomfortably in your chair. “I’m sure we can make it work… what kind of tool are you packing, buddy?” 

Hyuck chuckles. “It’s thick, I think it will do the job.”

Hyuck isn’t the tallest frat boy, but in no way is he the smallest either. He’s average, and to think that he has an above average girthy dick- well, you can’t help lick your lips in interest. 

“Stalker got your tongue, Angel?” Hyuck asks. “You’ve just gone awfully quiet.”

“I’m just…” you swallow thickly. “Just thinking.”

“About my thick cock splitting you open?” 

God, your pussy is throbbing now- “How… our first few calls were so awkward-”

“I promised you dirty, didn’t I? Needed some courage first, but… I can tell you’re not mad about it.” 

You’re definitely not mad about it.

You think maybe part of you would be upset if you didn’t know your ‘mystery caller’s’ identity- but the safety of knowing, in your heart of hearts, that this is Hyuck- it changes everything, and you can allow yourself to feel the pleasure already beating through you.

“I’d ask what you want me to do to you, but I did some research last night, watched some of that Hentaid shit you were talking about. It’s a lot of bondage, isn’t it, Angel? A lot of… creampies. You’ve got a thing for being held down and filled, huh? I guess…” he lets out a small laugh, “I guess I’m a little shocked, seeing as you’re so sassy with me. Guess you just want someone to put you in your place. What is it you called Johnny? A good daddy dom? I might not always be a dom, but for you, I can make it work.” 

“So…” you find it hard to even speak because he’s so right about his assessment that it hurts. “So… you’re more of a switch?”

“I can be. Generally, I’m not about strict roles in the bedroom, but if you’re into that sort of thing, I can see what it’s about.” 

“Tell me more about being a switch?”

“Don’t want to give you too many details about myself, these calls are about you, Angel.” 

You let out a groan.

“Be patient,” he reminds you. “And tell me, are you as wet right now as I am hard?”

This time, the sound you release is really more of a moan, and it makes Hyuck chuckle darkly.

“I’ll take that as a yes… are you gonna touch yourself after this? Gonna do all the work I can’t do, not yet, anyway.” 

“Maybe…”

“I like the thought of that, two horny people, whacking off together after a phone call, different rooms, but we’ll be on each other’s minds.” 

You get the suspicion that Hyuck is going to be on your mind for a whole lot longer than simply your upcoming bean-flicking session. 

Thursday

“I’m here, I’m here! What’s the emergency!” Mark asks, out of breath, his cheeks flushed from the cold outside and having just run across campus.

“It’s not an emergency, don’t worry, just sit!” you tell him, pushing out a chair.

“Angel, you texted me, and I quote,” he pulls out his phone, “911, meet me at our spot in the library asap.”

“Well, I wanted you to come,” you shrug.

“God, you’re as much of a drama queen as Hyuck is,” Mark sighs, taking his seat across from you. 

“Speaking of Hyuck…” you grin, leaning forward and clasping your hands together, “your roommate decided to go full Ghostie this year.”

“Wait, he’s not doing Ghost Face for Halloween-”

“No, I mean, like, stalker phone call Johnny Ghostie,” you clarify. 

“What?” Mark’s expression is blank, and he looks completely unimpressed.

“Basically, he called me on Sunday, did this whole thing about doing a Black Christmas character or some shit- he’s been calling me from a burner phone with a voice modulator-”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark sighs, covering his eyes with his hand. 

“The moral of the story is, Halloween night, I’m calling dibs on your room.”

“My room?” Mark peaks out at you through his fingers.

“Your roommate has to get laid. Actually, scratch that, I have to get laid… with your roommate.” 

“This is so-” Mark groans. “I thought we were over this stalker Halloween thing to get girls. Don’t any of us have respect or standards anymore?”

“You’re frat boys, Mark, so the answer on that one is going to be a no from me.”

“Why are you even into this?” Mark questions further. “Like- what’s so sexy about any of this?”

“I mean… it shows Hyuck cares?”

“He cares enough to get a burner phone and a voice modulator and call you and be creepy and horny? Wow, what a huge chivalrous act of love.” 

You narrow your eyes at Mark Lee. “I’m not enjoying your sarcasm, mister.”

“And I’m not enjoying this,” Mark retorts, pointing between the two of you. “Fuck, fine, have my room on Halloween.”

“Last thing though, Hyuck can’t know that I know that he’s the one calling me.” 

“Wait, so this isn’t a bit? He’s committed to trying to trick you?” Mark leans back in his chair, his expression getting even more bleak. “The two of you are crazier than I thought.” 

As you open your mouth to respond, your phone rings, and you look down to see Hyuck’s burner ‘No Caller ID.’

“Heya, buddy,” you answer, bringing your finger to your lips to shush Mark.

“Watcha up to?”

“Just in the library with a friend.”

Hyuck’s tone shifts. “Which friend?”

“Mark, you probably know him.”

“Of course I know fucking Mark. Why’s he with you?” 

“Just chatting… why? You jealous?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!” You let out a laugh. “Buddy, settle down, we both know I’m not into Mark Lee, we’ve talked about this before.”

“We’ve never talked about Mark,” Hyuck responds, and you realize, you may have just betrayed that you know who he is-

“I mean, he wasn’t on my list with Jaehyun, or Jeno, or Jaemin-” you quickly cover your blunder, and Hyuck releases an annoyed sound.

“I get it, I get it,” he groans. “Fine, finish up your time with fucking Mark, then.” 

“Don’t be salty about this,” you warn.

“Yeah, whatever.” 

Friday

It’s the final day before Halloween, and if there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that Hyuck is working. The SVT and NCT frats are the primary workers at the on-campus bar, Skeets, so they have a deal that NCT works the Friday before Halloween, and SVT works the Saturday. 

Knowing these details, you’re also aware that it’s possible Hyuck won’t be home till three am, so you’re a little shocked when you get a call at one.

“Hi, Angel.”

“If it isn’t my favorite stalker,” you grin, pausing your horror film- in all truth, you’d decided to watch Black Christmas, and now you can see why Hyuck told you not to bother, he hasn’t nailed the deranged attitude of the main villain at all. 

“Watcha doin?”

“Not much, you?”

“Not much,” he responds.

“Are you sure?” you counter. “Cuz something tells me maybe you’re working right now… did you get a break, buddy?”

“I’m not working,” he insists. 

“Sure you’re not,” you laugh, dropping the line of questioning. “Hey, tell me again why you chose Billy from Black Christmas?” 

“Seriously?” Hyuck lets out a sigh. “I guess I just wanted… an excuse to be horny on the phone for you, even if it’s just for a week.”

He sounds defeated, and you’re not shocked. Halloween is the busiest night of the year at the bar Hyuck works at, if anything, you’re surprised he even had a moment to dip outside and call you.

“You’re cute,” you muse. “You sound tired, so I’ll let you go, but uh… I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“You will.”

“And how will I know it’s you?” 

“You just will, goodnight, Angel.” 

Saturday 

You’ve just arrived at the frat party, and already, you’re on the hunt for Hyuck.

At this point, you’re tired of the games. You feel closer to Hyuck, in some odd, sinister sort of way- closer than you ever have before. And you’re tired of hiding it, tired of this weird cat and mouse- you just want to have a conversation with him, to get everything out into the open so you can truly discuss your feelings.

You find him by the beer pong table. He’s in a full denim fit, and you can’t put your finger on who he is as you approach.

“Hey, Hyuck,” you greet, tucking into his side so he can hear you over the music. “Nice Canadian Tuxedo.”

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“Uh…” You look at him blankly. “Are you talking about your denim costume? Or the way you’ve been calling me all week?”

Hyuck stares at you in shock. “Uh…” he clears his throat. “I’m Ken… you know, from the Barbie movie.” 

“Right…” you trail off, wondering if he’s going to touch on the Black Christmas side of things.

“Also… what do you mean? About me calling you all week?”

“Hyuck,” you sigh. “Please don’t try to avoid this. Just be honest. It’s you. I know it’s you.” 

He looks at you, and you can see the cogs turning in his mind.

“You told me you’d reveal yourself tonight,” you continue. “I know I kind of just threw you under the bus, maybe I ruined your master plan or something, but I’m tired of pretending I don’t know it’s one of my best friends who’s been calling me all week being horny.”

“Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice lowering. His eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to get a read on you.

“Hyuck,” you let out a laugh, “I’m not mad at all, but I think we should go to your room and talk this out a little, don’t you?”

“I guess that’s a good idea,” he acquiesces. 

“Then let’s go.” You grab his hand, lacing your fingers so you can drag him to the stairs that lead to the second floor. You don’t say anything as you move, you’re on a mission, and what you need to discuss with him is better said alone than in a crowd of horny Halloween partygoers.

You make it to the privacy of his room, and you shut the door behind you. “So?”

“So?” Hyuck moves through the space, and you notice him heading for his bong.

“Hey, don’t do that,” you sigh.

“Don’t do what?” he asks.

“You don’t need to get high to have this conversation.”

“I don’t?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I don’t want you to be high when we do this.” 

Hyuck lets out another deep breath. “This isn’t how I planned things.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” you admit, watching him take a seat on his bed. “How did you see tonight panning out?” 

“I suppose I figured I could get some drinks in, liquid courage, that sort of thing. And then, maybe I’d reveal myself at the end of the night or something.”

“Are you really so scared of me that you need to be drinking to confess how you feel?” you ask, melting a little. You approach Hyuck, sitting carefully on the bed next to him while he faces clear inner turmoil.

“I’m not afraid,” he states, but you can tell from the tone of his voice that there’s something else going on. “I just… You told me you only want a man who can commit, a guy who only has eyes for you- and, I do, but… we both know my playboy track record, and I guess… I just worry about hurting you.”

“Do you want to hurt me?” you question, tilting your head as you try to understand him.

“No, never.”

“Do you think you’re at the point where you could settle down a little? I’m not trying to get you to stop partying, I just mean… committing to one girl, is that something you think you’re capable of?”

“If it’s you, then yeah… I think so,” he nods, finally meeting your eyes.

He looks so vulnerable, and it’s very different from how you usually view your mischievous friend.

“Hyuck,” you whisper, unable to help the way your hand raises to cup his cheek. “I’m willing to give this a shot if you are. If there’s something real here, and it’s not just you being a horny, dumb frat boy.”

“Okay, rude,” Hyuck laughs, showing you a glimmer of the him that you know and love, “It’s more than being horny… but… in all honesty, seeing you in this fucking faerie costume has me all hot and bothered.”

“Yeah?” You lean closer, grinning. Your lips ghost over his when you say your next words, “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Hyuck sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils dilating- you’re so close to him, and you can make out all the pretty shades of brown in his irises. Gosh, he really is a pretty frat boy. 

His hands find your hips, and he tugs your body closer. You can feel him breathing, his gaze darting between your own and your mouth. You watch his tongue dip out to wet his lips, and he swallows thickly.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, finally smashing his lips to your own. 

It’s not gentle by any means, but it’s not necessarily aggressive either- one word to describe this kiss, is: desperate. He’s so eager, and you kind of love it, love the way he tugs you flush to his own body, one hand moving to cup your cheek- his tongue glides against your own and you stifle a moan, shifting in his embrace so you can wrap your arms around his neck.

It feels so good to be pressed against him like this- you’re actually kind of shocked at how good it feels. And his hands, exploring your body, keeping you close, fingers digging into your hips-

Hyuck is everywhere, devouring you like you’re his last meal.

“Oh,” you whisper, when Hyuck’s mouth moves to your neck. “By the way, I called dibs on your room with Mark, he won’t be bothering us.”

Your dumb frat boy pulls away from your throat, a grin on his face. “You really knew it was me all along, huh?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, buddy,” you laugh.

Hyuck shakes his head, reaching to lock the door before his hands ensnare you again. He pushes his body against yours, urging you to move backward until your calves hit the bed. Before pushing you down, he removes your faerie costume wings, and only once the more delicate part of your costume is discarded, does he shove you onto his mattress.

“Hyuck,” you giggle, looking up at him with starry eyes.

“You look so good like this,” Hyuck muses, tugging his denim ‘Ken’ style vest off to reveal a body hardened from Frat mandated work out brother time. He’s not too big, not too built- Hyuck still has some pudge on him, but you kind of love it. You love that it’s not a full six pack and bulging biceps- you can imagine that when this is all done, he’ll be lovely to cuddle with.

In fact, you’re not sure it would matter how muscled Hyuck is. Sure, it helps that he’s physically fit and hot, but- at this point in your friendship, you’re attracted to him for so much more than his body.

No man makes you laugh like him. No man has spent the time that he has to understand you and make you feel comfortable with him knowing you, the true you, the you that you don’t get to show many others.

Hyuck is just… he’s good for you, and he always has been. That goodness has so far been a friend capacity sort of thing, but you’re excited about the new development in your relationship. You think there’s true potential with him, and it makes you dizzy as you stare up at one of your best friends.

“I kind of want to eat you out, Angel,” Hyuck admits, one hand finding your thigh and pushing your short dress even higher up  your leg.

“Funny, I kind of want to suck you off,” you grin, lifting one foot out of your shoe to tease your toes across the front of his jeans.

“So… sixty-nine?” Hyuck asks, gently tracing his fingers across your exposed skin, setting tingles of pleasure off to erupt and skitter through your form.

“That would work, but… I guess… I kind of want to lay with my head lolled off the side of the bed, your cock in my mouth, and your fingers pinching at my nipples while I work my own clit at the same time.”

“Jesus,” Hyuck breathes, swallowing thickly as he looks up at you. “How could I say no to that?” 

“Then, when I’m close to cumming, you can eat me out, get me there, then fuck me stupid for your own release.”

“It’s funny,” Hyuck chuckles, “Here I thought I was the horny one calling you and trying to be a creep, but you’re the one with the dirty mouth and the great ideas.”

“Yeah, your whole Black Christmas thing really wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever heard,” you tease.

“How many times do I have to admit it was a shitty plan but I just wanted to get close to you?”

“At least once more.”

“Fine. Now flip around, loll your head off my bed, let me put my cock down your throat and pinch your nipples while you toy with your cute pussy.”

“How do you know my pussy is cute?” you ask. “You haven't even seen it yet.”

“I’ve been imagining, baby, and as a film major, my imagination is pretty fucking good.”

You giggle, getting into position for Hyuck. He stands near your head as you loll it off the side of the bed, and you get a good view of his bulge straining in his jeans.

“You’re excited,” you muse, cupping him through the denim.

“Who wouldn’t be?” he laughs, undoing his button, then the zipper. “Fuck, you look so good laid out like this.”

“Yeah?” You pull the top of your dress down, releasing your boobs.

“Fuuuuuck,” Hyuck groans, pausing his motions on his jeans to reach down and massage your newly exposed breast. “I knew your tits would be perfect.”

You moan at the feeling of his warm hands. His fingers pinch at your nipple and your moan turns into a whine. “Feels good.”

“You feel good,” he counters.

“Get your cock out,” you instruct, feeling impatient.

“Start rubbing your pussy,” Hyuck retorts with a laugh.

“Yes, sir,” you respond teasingly, reaching one of your hands down to your thighs. You slip it under your dress, deciding on taking your panties off alltogether. 

Hyuck continues to massage you as you pull off your thong. 

You can’t help yourself, you toss it at him, and Hyuck lets go of your breast in favour of catching it. “Fuck, these are cute,” he says, admiring your panties.

“I knew I’d be getting laid.”

His tone shifts to the darker, more annoyed side of things. “Yeah?”

“And don’t get all angsty, I knew I’d be fucking you tonight.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Hyuck grins, putting your panties in his pocket before he undoes his jeans, shifting them down his thighs.

The fucker isn’t wearing underwear, and you get a good view of his cock for the first time.

“Fuck, dude, you weren’t lying when you said you were thick,” you muse, licking your lips.

“I’d never lie to you about my cock,” he laughs.

You slip one hand between your thighs, stroking your wet core- it’s crazy how turned on you are from this, but part of you thinks this has been building for a while- for a week, actually.

Hyuck strokes his cock, looking down at you. “Ready for this?” he asks.

“Put it in my mouth,” you command, opening wide for him.

“If I’m going to deep, push my thigh,” he tells you as he slips his cock past your lips.

You moan a sound of affirmation around him, immediately beginning to suck on his tip, getting used to his size before you take more.

Hyuck is surprisingly gentle with how much he’s allowing you to take. If you hadn’t been pacing yourself, you’re sure he’d be pacing you of his own accord. 

One of his hands finds your breast again, pinching the nipple and sending jitters of pleasure down to your throbbing core.

You groan louder around him, sucking more into your mouth as you increase the pressure on your clit.

“This is so fucking hot,” Hyuck moans, thrusting gently into your mouth so you can lay flat and still, allowing him to do most of the work while you rub your pussy deliciously.

You can only let out a sound of affirmation as he uses your mouth.

With your eyes closed, you can focus fully on the feeling of pleasure that’s building inside of you. 

When you’d imagined fucking Hyuck for the first time, this hadn’t necessarily been a position at the forefront of your thoughts- but when he’d suggested eating you out, you’d realized this is exactly what you’d wanted. 

You want to give back to him, want to show him how much you’ve appreciated him taking the leap and telling you how he feels- even if it was in some weird, dumb frat boy, phone call kind of way. 

The way he’s pinching your thighs is actually delicious- and then, you hear him spit, and you feel the cool liquid hit your chest. This time, when he rubs his thumb over your nipple, he spreads his spit across your skin, making it even more intense.

“Part of me just wants to cum on these perfect tits,” he admits.

You make a very clear sound of disagreement, and Hyuck pulls his cock out of your mouth. You’d been salivating so much that as he moves away, your own saliva drips back down onto your face from his length. You swallow thickly, finding your voice. “Need you to cum inside of me.”

“Fuuuuck,” Hyuck groans, pinching your nipple even harder. “You and your creampie kink.”

He slips his cock back into your mouth, and you greedily eat him up.

Then he leans further over your body, his fingers joining yours on your core. “You’re so fucking wet,” he muses, pushing your hand out of your way so he can rub your clit, gently fucking your face as he does so.

It’s a shallow face fucking, as he’s bent over your laid down body to access your core, but you don’t mind.

Your eyes are still closed, and you’re enjoying every sensation, bringing your free hands up to your breasts to massage them and pinch your own nipples.

“You look so sexy, want you to cum so bad so I can fuck you stupid,” he tells you, rubbing your clit even harder.

You rut your hips up toward his hand, a non verbal motion that tells him you’re close.

God, it’s like he’s been in your pants before- he knows exactly how to stroke and massage your clit-

“And you’re still sucking me off so good-” he continues. “And grabbing at your tits too, you’re my insatiable little Angel, aren’t you?”

You moan deeply around his cock, and Hyuck fucks you a little harder, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, feeling tears in your eyes.

“Shit, sorry, Angel, fuck, that just felt so good- can I do it again? Can I fuck your throat again?”

You make a sound of affirmation, shocked at how your body had reacted to his cock being fully inside of your mouth. A tingle of excitement had run through you, your nipples getting intensely sensitive, your core throbbing-

Hyuck does it again, hitting the back of your throat, and the same sensation happens. You can feel yourself getting desperately close to the edge, and you hardly have to do anything. Other than pinching your own nipples, Hyuck is the one taking care of you, and you kind of love it.

“I can tell you’re close, Angel,” Hyuck chuckles. “Fuck, gonna cum from me fucking your face and rubbing your clit, right?”

You moan desperately, wiggling your hips. Hyuck reads your cue, rubbing your clit even harder.

Now, you can’t help but pull off his cock, pushing his thigh to give you a bit of space.

“You good?” he asks, motions pausing.

“Yeah,” you tell him, swallowing thickly as you grab his cock to stroke him off. “Just keep- fuck, keep rubbing me like that, I’m so close-”

“Fuck this,” Hyuck mutters, and all of the sudden, he’s pulling away.

You let out a whine- only for him to spin you on his bed. He sinks to his knees, drawing your core to the edge where your head had just been, then he dives in, his lips immediately suctioning around your clit.

Two fingers push into your aching core and you whimper desperately, grabbing at his hair to keep him on your pussy as he works you closer and closer-

“Hyuck-” you cry out, muscles clenching-

One more slurp on your clit has you topping over the edge, entire body electrified by the orgasm surging through you.

You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle your sounds as he works you through your high. He doesn’t quit, doesn’t pull away- he sucks your clit through your entire high, until your thighs are shaking on his shoulders and you’re on the verge of tears.

“Okay-” you whimper, pushing at his head. “Sensitive-”

Hyuck finally lets up. You open your eyes to watch him stand, pulling his fingers from your core and sliding them into his own mouth.

“You taste just like Halloween candy, baby,” he muses, eyes clouded with lust.

“I wanna taste,” you whisper.

Hyuck pushes his jeans completely off, and then he gets on top of you, smashing his lips to your own. The flavour of your pussy is hot on his tongue, and it invades your senses, driving you wild as you kiss him deeper, threading your fingers through his hair.

His cock nudges between your pussy lips as he grinds down against you, rocking his hips.

“Fuck me,” you tell him, moving your mouth to suck on his ear lobe.

“Shit,” Hyuck groans, shivering from the sensation of your tongue on his ear. “Want you naked first.”

He pulls away just long enough to tug your dress up and over your head, then he returns to his spot, his cock rutting against your core once more.

The two of you have been friends forever. Hyuck knows you have an IUD, he’d been there for you when you’d gotten it last year, when you’d just wanted to stay in bed and rot for a few days. There’s no need to discuss birth control or safety- all there’s left to do, is have his thick cock fill you in ways you’ve been wanting all week.

Hyuck adjusts, grabbing his base so he can push his tip into your throbbing hole.

“Fuck,” you whimper in his ear, clutching his shoulders as he pushes an inch into you.

“You good?” he asks, breath hot on your throat.

“So good,” you respond, locking your legs around his hips.

He pushes deeper into your pussy, and your core welcomes him in, walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock. 

Hyuck bottoms out, and you both groan deeply. He forces his lips onto your own again, and it’s a clash of teeth and tongues.

It’s animalistic in the best sort of way- like you’ve both been caged up for as long as you’ve known each other, and you’re finally letting your beasts out to do the most primal thing imaginable.

There are no thoughts in your mind as Hyuck begins to fuck you, there’s only you, him, and this intense feeling of pleasure.

You feel so connected to him- missionary isn’t always the most fun position, but with Hyuck, it feels right. It feels like this was meant to be your first time together, face to face, lip locked, breathing each other in, moaning desperately as he takes you as his own.

“Fuck,” Hyuck groans, gently biting on your lip. “Your pussy is taking me so fucking well- first your mouth, now this- how do you expect me to last long?”

“I don’t,” you giggle. “You made me cum so hard on your tongue, I’m about ready to be filled with your cum and then lay here.”

“I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you after this.”

“You better,” you grin.

Hyuck smiles against your lips, kissing you again as he fucks you even harder.

The stretch of his girthy cock is unlike anything else- and it feels like heaven as he pounds you into his mattress.

“Rub your clit?” he suggests.

“I can’t- I can’t cum again,” you whimper, still sensitive from your first orgasm.

“I’ll have to train you to cum more after this,” he promises.

You can only grin, drawing his lips to your own again as he uses you to find the ends of his own pleasure.

His whimpering sounds are like music to your ears- fuck, Hyuck is too hot to even imagine. Had this guy really been one of your best friends for this long without you ever exploiting this?

You’re so fucking happy he’d called you and been weird all week- it was the perfect foreplay, and now, you’re completely enraptured by him.

“Shit,” Hyuck groans. 

“You close, baby?” you ask.

“Fuck, call me baby again.”

“Baby,” you whimper, “your cock feels so good in my tight pussy.”

Hyuck moans even louder. 

“Just like that,” you encourage him, tightening your legs on his hips. “Keep doing that- right there-” The tip of his cock is hitting the perfect spots inside of you, and you’re gasping from the feeling, burrowing your face in his throat and panting against his skin.

“Shit, Angel-”

“Cum for me, baby, cum in my pussy,” you urge him.

That’s all it takes for him to explode, letting out a deep groan as he releases deep inside your core, coating your walls with him.

His thrusts falter, his breathing laboured, entire body shivering-

You stroke the back of his head, cooing in his ear, helping him through it until he’s finished, coming to a stop ontop of you and breathing heavily.

“Good boy,” you tease.

Hyuck lets out a deep chuckle, and it turns into a sigh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“And you’d love that.”

“I would,” he admits. “Okay, fuck, I’m gonna pull out, gonna grab some tissues and sweat pants- we can head to the bathroom down the hall and hopefully clean up a little, then we’re gonna cuddle.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you grin, laying there as he groans and gets off of you, following through with his intentions.

Soon, cum is being wiped from your pussy and you’re being helped into sweatpants.

The two of you exit his room, and you’re very pleased to see that most of the party is downstairs, leaving his floor pretty vacant. 

You make your way to the bathroom with him, clutching his hand.

Once there, you both clean up, and you listen to Hyuck splash water on his face while you pee, making sure all his cum is out of you.

The two of you make it back to his room, collapsing into bed. He pulls you to his chest, cuddling you close.

“Before I pass out… how did you know it was me on the phone?” he asks.

“Out of everyone in the frat, you idolize Johnny the most. It wasn’t a reach that you’d recreate his Ghostie thing last year. On top of that, you’re a film major, you know horror movies better than anyone else. And, you’re a horny fucker, which is something I’ve always loved about you- I just… I needed you to make a move, which you never really did, until now. It just… made sense that it was you. The way we talk to each other, I could tell it was you from the very first call.”

“Here I was, thinking I was all suave and shit.”

“You were very suave, baby,” you grin, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Happy Halloween, Angel.”

You giggle. “Happy Halloween.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! find my other nct frat fics (including Ghostie) HERE. I made this meme for this fic because it's so them.

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🔮 preview. “So, I’m gonna finger fuck you stupid,” he explains, pushing his digits back into you. “And then, I’m going to apply pressure, right here-” Hyuck’s hand smooths across your abdomen, even the slightest push makes you feel his fingers deep in your core, and you release a whine of pleasure. “Yeah, you’re going to love this,” he confirms with a grin. 

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, oral ( f receiving), pussy worship, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, squirting, dirty talk, praise, Hyuck holds the reader down by her abdomen, etc… I petnames: (y/n’s) Angel. (his) Baby. 

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.4k I teaser wc. 220

🌙 staring. Haechan x afab!reader

bonus

You love Hyuck, you do- but sometimes (especially when watching movies) he has this tendency to… well, never shut up.

“Okay so, coming up, when the alien pops out of his body, the director didn’t tell anyone this was going to happen, so when Sigourney Weaver and the others react, it’s genuine shock and surprise-”

You love his facts too, you do… but… sometimes, they get a bit much.

“Baby,” you coo, cuddling closer to your boyfriend, “Can we just… watch the movie?”

“We are watching the movie.”

“I mean… God, I’m going to sound like a bitch, but can we get through like… ten minutes without a fun fact?”

“But… my fun facts are fun.”

“They are, baby, they are,” you assure him, patting his chest, “I just…” you sigh, “ten minutes?”

“I can think of a distraction for my mouth,” Hyuck grins.

Your pussy immediately flutters, picking up on what he’s saying. “Yeah? Don’t you want to watch the movie?”

“I’ve seen it a billion times.” His hand rubs your shoulder and he nuzzles against your cheek, breath hot on your skin. “Come on, let me eat out your pretty pussy. I’ve been wanting to overstim you for a hot minute- I think I could get three or four out of you while you’re watching.”

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[lovetei]

Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call

Versions: The Brothers, Side characters

Warnings: Gender neutral pronouns for MC, Cussing, Slight yandere themes (Belphegor, Asmodeus)

Links: Masterlist

--------------------------------------------------

LUCIFER

This demon likes sticking to rules

Running on hallways? Detention

Eating during class? Detention

Not paying attention to class? Detention

No one is safe...

Except for one person.

The cafeteria if filled with loud noises, your voice shouting profanities to another demon specifically.

Everyone listening to the argument feels like they're stomach is about to burst out of nervousness because "What if Lucifer randomly comes in and put all of us is detention because we just stood by and didn't do anything to stop the fight?!"

And he did.

But what surprised them is that he didn't shout or anything, he just stood there for a few second and scanned the crowd looking for one of his brothers.

Spotted Mammon and came close to him before whispering something among themselves.

And then he just stood there

Doing nothing

As if it's just fucking okay to let a human, the exchange student at that, to scream and curse a demon because he won't cooperate into this project.

And when the demon started cursing back at you, the rules are suddenly so strict as if cussing will cause the end of the 8 rings of hell.

The demon is sent to detention, removed from the group, suspended, and many more.

And who knows? Maybe you pulled just a few strings to have that demon expelled.

But what the citizens sure know is that they never saw anyone again after talking to MC like that.

MAMMON

It was cute

Mammon would do anything for you, no matter how big or small it is.

One day, Mammon was spotted running around the halls of RAD.

Looking like he's getting chased by Lucifer, again.

But surprisingly, he's not.

He's just running around the school fetching your fan, notebooks, bag, pens, water or some snacks.

One time, you two were put in a group for this project and were talking about it with your other group mates.

Then you hit him with a "Mammon, I left my notebook on my desk in the potions class, can you fetch it for me?"

With just a blink of an eye, Mammon who was leaning on your shoulder just a few minutes ago is gone.

And with another blink of an eye he's there again with your notebook on his hands then he's back to leaning on your shoulder again as if he didn't just go to the other side of the school for a notebook.

LEVIATHAN

He's introverted

He won't go out his room if it's just for some lame party

I also headcanons for him to be the most unseen brother

Or like him having the smallest amount of photo and information online because he just won't go out.

Yeah, he won't go out if it's just some small, lame party but if Diavolo hosts it, what exactly can he do?

"Do you think the avatar of envy will attend this party?"

"Ha! No way... Lord Leviathan won't attend small parties or gatherings like these unless Lord Diavolo hosts it himself."

"Lord Leviathan really has a high standard when it comes to gatherings..."

And then poof

He's there

Beside you

A happy go lucky sheep beside a gloomy snake

What a match

And if you ask him why he would attend such gatherings when it's totally not even his style he would just go like "MC."

"What can I do? MC really wants to see the fireworks display."

"MC wants me to escort them."

So they got the hint on how to make Levi attend gatherings, either have Diavolo host it or invite MC too.

SATAN

He's angry

But not angry enough to yell when MC is around

Man's can go from 👹 to ☺️ real quick as soon as he felt MC's prescense

He doesn't know why too, but whenever he yell while you're around he thinks he'll fall out of favor

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU'RE SO PERFECT THEN WHY DON'T YOU GO AROUND WHILE YOU HAVE YOUR HEAD FAR UP YOUR ASS- Oh, Hi MC? How are you?"

He'll talk so sweet in front you and then when you turn around you can see some veins popping out of his neck and forehead.

And if he can't really handle it and went berserk in your prescense another scary yet amazing thing you can is to put your hand on his body.

Shoulder, head, neck, wrist, arm, wherever it is.

Just pat him or link your arms with him and he will start to calm down.

ASMODEUS

People headcanon him to like it when you're obsessed with him but I think he's more obsessed to you.

Like he's down bad

You can do anything and he'll literally fawn all over it

"Look at the way they run their hands through their hair!"

"Look at how they work!"

"The way they hold that fork is so graceful~"

Literally, you're the only person that comes to his mind when someone said pretty

Except for himself of course

But I swear, whenever someone caught him staring at you the atmosphere gets so thick

You don't even know why but the atmosphere is heavy and the air suddenly smells so sweet

And those heart in his eyes, the way his pupils dilate

Yeah, you have this man worshipping you alongside himself

BEELZEBUB

Other than the fact that he's actually willing to share his food with you

He's willing to help you in any physical works

Like lifting up things, carrying your stuffs and sometimes even running errands for you

I mean, he actually doesn't do it a lot because Lucifer actually asks Mammon for this stuff because the things Lucifer needs to be done is a little...

Shady?

And he doesn't want to taint Beel's innocence.

So now since you're already a part of the student council when Lucifer needs to have something important finished but it requires physical work.

You and Beel will be partnered

And he doesn't have anything against it either

He likes it so much when you command him to do something actually

I mean, he's tall and buff but Lucifer won't ask him to do anything that includes hard labor except taking care of Belphegor

So you actually helping him make use of all those muscles made him feel a tinge of happiness

He feels like he's actually of use :)

BELPHEGOR

This little brat

He would kill for you and he means it

He's not scared to spill blood on broad daylight as long as it's for you

Someone bothered you? Dead

Oh this person annoyed you? Taken care of

Aw~ He told you you're cute and asked you out on a date? That's sweet! Dead.

He's just like that

He won't tolerate anyone who dared disrespect you

And Lucifer won't even put a stop into this

"I mean, Devildom is quite overpopulated and we don't want anyone disrespecting Lord Diavolo's plan on bringing the three realms together now." Is what he reasons everytime.

Oh, he also wakes up on command as long as it's you.

Lucifer and his brothers could be shaking him like he's dead and he won't even bother to open his eyes

But if you just pulled a "Belphie? Good morning..." Oh dear, he's wide awake and clinging to you.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Per a suggestion from an Ao3 follower:

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one. It's silly. It's a little mean, but really all in good fun. I did try to keep on theme with the requester's suggestions about the guys. Anyways, enjoy!!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): brief swearing, domestic fluff, established relationship, brief suggestive themes

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“Sorry, love. But I need you to repeat that.”

You clear your throat, putting more strength behind your voice. “I would like you to step out of the bedroom.”

John crosses his arms over his chest. He leans forward a bit, amused. “And why is that?”

“I’m changing.”

“I don’t believe it,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“I want privacy. And I would like it if you stepped out.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you shrug.

John’s mouth opens slightly like he’s about to say something—but promptly shuts it, exhaling loudly. “Okay. I’ll go.” He starts to walk away but then turns around. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Thank you, John.”

He shakes his head as he exits. You wait a few seconds, before testing what he said.

“John?”

He promptly returns, standing inside the door. “Yes?”

“Just making sure.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear.

Once you’re dressed, you go out into the hall, and find him leaning against the wall. His neck twists slowly, his gaze pivoting to you. There is a bland, mostly unamused expression on John’s face.

“What?” you ask, all innocence.

“Never ask me that again.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Kyle?”

“Yeah, love?”

“Could you step out?”

Kyle turns. “Step out? Step out where? To the store?”

“No,” you laugh. “The bedroom.”

“Why?”

“I’m changing.”

Kyle blinks. “For what reason?”

“I’m changing.”

He shrugs. “You change in front of me all the time.”

“Yes. But right now, I want to be alone.”

Kyle completely turns in your direction, arms crossed over his chest, concern creasing his brow. “Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t look happy, but he starts to make an exit.

“Are you okay?” he asks suddenly, turning on his heel.

“I’m fine,” you tell him.

Kyle starts to pivot back to the bedroom door but stops. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

Kyle’s gaze narrows. “Are you hurt?” he asks, tone soft. And then, with a little growl in it, “Did someone hurt you?”

“No, Kyle. I’m fine. Really. I just want privacy.”

Frowning, he takes one step backward. “Everything is fine?”

“Everything is fine,” you confirm.

With another nod, Kyle leaves the room.

You think you’re alone, but then you hear his voice from out in the hallway.

“Is it a new outfit?”

“No.”

Silence. Then, “It’s not my birthday.”

“No, Kyle. It’s not.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Can you leave the room?”

Johnny turns, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. “What?”

“I need to change,” you reply. “Could you leave?”

The middle of his brow furrows. He pops the toothbrush out of his mouth. “Serious?”

“Yes,” you affirm.

“Why?” he asks.

“I need to change, Johnny!”

“So?” he counters, and then, with a sultry voice, “I’ve seen you naked.”

“I want privacy.”

He laughs softly, and promptly plops himself onto the edge of the bed. “No. Staying right here.”

“Johnny.”

“I’ll close my eyes.” He returns the toothbrush to his mouth, crossing his arms over his chest. “See? Not looking.”

He does close his eyes.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he says.

As you remove your robe and begin to reach for the first article of clothing, you glance over at Johnny. One of his eyelids is open. He’s sneaking a peek.

“Johnny,” you scold, smacking his arm.

He smirks, returning to his original state.

You put on the next piece of your outfit. This time, Johnny steals a quick touch.

“Johnny!”

His eyes pop open and then he leans back on the bed, muscles on full display. “Couldn’t help myself,” he replies with a shrug and cheeky grin.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Simon?”

“Hm?”

“Could—could you leave for a moment?” You put some nervousness in your voice.

Simon is fresh out of the shower. Water droplets still remain on his skin. A crisp, white towel is wrapped around his hips, but it looks so small on him compared to his large frame.

“Leave?” he asks, turning in your direction.

“Yes. I need to change.”

The corners of his mouth turn downward. “To change?”

“I would like it if you left the room while I dress.”

Simon blinks but his features don’t change. “We just had sex. And you want me to step out of the room?”

“That is what I’m saying,” you affirm with a nod of your head.

He shrugs. “Okay.”

Without hesitating, Simon exits the bedroom. He doesn’t come back in or attempt to steal a glance. You’re completely alone, left to do whatever it is you need to.

Once you’re dressed, you call out to Simon. “I’m done.”

You hear is heavy footfalls, and then he returns. “Good?”

“Yes.”

He nods. “I’d like you to leave now.”

“You—what?”

This time, Simon smirks as he reaches for the towels tied at his hips. “You make me nervous, love.”

taglist:

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[sivyera]

nsfw headcanons and kinks of harry potter characters

ft. harry, ron, cedric, fred, george, draco, blaise, theodore, tom, hermione, pansy

a/n: well there is obviously a lot of SMUT, also it's a female reader

༺☆༻

⤷ Harry - lingerie

harry for sure loves when you wear some nice pair of lingerie, he finds it so hot when the nice lace hugs your body so perfectly. every time when he's out, he looks for some new pair of lingerie that he would buy you. oh yeah he buys you every single pair but one time, you surprised him on his b-day with red pair of lingerie (like gryffindor theme lingerie) and he was hard within seconds.

"oh- oh my fucking god, you look amazing sweetheart. do a spin for me please- slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look in this" harry hummed while he sat on his bed with you slowly turning in front of him. he could feel his hard dick pressing against his pants, pre-cum already making his boxers dirty. he brushed his hand over his erection before he hummed again. "come closer baby, i wanna touch you..."

⤷ Ron - body worship

ron was very unexperienced at the start, you were basically his first everything, first girlfriend, first kiss, first lover. so when was the first time you two had sex, he was just so mesmerized by your whole body that he had to watch himself for not cumming into his pants just from the sight of your naked body. you are gorgeous in his eyes, more than that! from that time it kinda sticked with him, every time you two have sex now, he has to worship you before anything, he wants you to know how beautiful you are on his eyes...

you could feel ron's hands tracing soft patterns over your sides while his eyes were glued to your boobs. "bloody hell, baby you are so beautiful.. " he mumbled while he moved his big palms over your boobs, squeezing them lightly. "i can't belive how lucky i'm to have you, now let me make you feel good." he added before he took off your panties and kissed his way down to your pretty cunt.

⤷ Cedric - praise kink

cedric is overall very vocal when you two have sex, he either growls, hums, groans, breaths heavily or he's mumbling praises to you. he really cannot help himself when he sees you all spread under him; your legs wrapped around him, your hands scratching his back while he holds your hips and is thrusting into you, mercilessly. he always makes sure that you can hear him properly so he usually leans closer to you, brushing his lips over your ear in soft kisses, whispering praise right into your ear.

"you're doing so good princess, taking all of me like this..." he whispers into your ear, his hips are crushing against yours, his dick hitting every right spot while you're a moaning mess under him. "you feel so good, i can't get enough of you, my sweet girl.." he groans again into your ear while his tempo isn't slowing down.

⤷ Fred - public sex

fred is thrilled with the idea of getting caught, it's the adrenaline and the possessivness from him screaming, i mean he wants people to know that you're his, that you chose him and that only HE makes you feel this good. so you two usually have sex somewhere around hogwarts. empty classroom, broom closet, empty gryffindor common room, bathroom, you name it.

"shh baby, be quiet you don't want anybody to catch us, do you?" he smirks while he has you seated on a desk in empty potion class. both of you are skipping class so it's pretty quiet outside on the hallways, anyone who will walk past can hear you. he doesn't care how loud you are because he doesn't care if you two get caught, he just wants to tease you. even tho you try to be quiet, you can't help yourself and moan again. "naughty girl yeah, let everybody know how good i make you feel..."

⤷ George - orgasm denial

george loves the face you make when he pushes you to the edge but just seconds before you're about to cum, he slows down his moves or stops completely, kissing your skin instead. he also loves teasing you but the way you get all pouty and squeeze around him when he denies you your orgasm is just something he can never get tired of. but eventually he'll let you cum and it's always the best orgasm ever.

he was thrusting into you in the perfect rhythm when you felt the familiar knot forming inside your belly, but just when the knot was about to release, he stopped. instead he immediately pressed his lips against your chest, kissing you around your boobs. "i know baby, i know... i'll give you what you want but god- when you squeeze around me like this, i can't help myself."

⤷ Draco - daddy kink

draco has big daddy issues so many of you could say that he'd hate being called daddy but he actually loves it. it makes him feel good, powerful and in control which he never was while being back home so... when you started calling him like this, he didn't let you stop. he sees you as his blessing and he wants to protect you with everything he has, like a good daddy should protect his precious baby.

"you're such a good girl for daddy, princess..." draco huffed while he was buried deep inside you. his hands were pressing your knees to your chest which made you ass go little up, letting him hit the perfect spot inside you. "yes, tell me who's your daddy? mhmf-..." he continues while you're mumbling under him. he loves when those sweet words leave your pretty mouth, it almost always makes him cum in seconds.

⤷ Blaise - bondage

blaise loves seeing how your flesh presses under the bondage, making your thighs and boobs look even more soft and squishy than they already are. he either bondages your whole body or only ankles and wrists so you can't move, but he loves both equaly. he always takes his time when he's wrapping the rope around your body but he also always makes sure that everything he does is comfortable to you, it could be dangerous for you and he doesn't wanna hurt you.

"you feelin' good, babe?" he speaks while his long fingers are brushing over your inner thighs, his eyes basically glued to the plush of them. he could feel his hard dick twitching in his boxers, leaving a small wet mark over the fabric so he quickly strokes himself before he continues. "you look so pretty like this, all just for me... take a deep breath, babe, just like this..."

⤷ Theodore - deep throat

there is nothing more theo loves more than when you are on your knees, your glassy looking up at him with tears falling down your cheeks while he hears how you are gagging on his dick. he doesn't care if you have good or bad gagging reflex, you can take it for him. if it's very serious and you just have to take a quick pause, he'll let you rest for like 30s before pushing you down on his dick again, this time little deeper than before. and when you let him cum into your mouth, you got yourself "bonus" orgasm.

"ngh- fuck baby-... your tongue feels so good around me, mhmm..." he hums while his head falls down between his shoulder blades with his fingers being tangled in your hair, pushing your head lower on his dick. his groans and moans are non-stopping while he can feel himself getting closer and closer. when he looks down at you and sees your pretty, bambi eyes already staring at him, he can feel himself cum. "oh dio-... now swallow for me, amore."

⤷ Tom - choking

choking makes feel tom in control, in control of your life while he brings you the best pleasure of your life. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb while you make this incredibly fuckable face, it drives him wild and incredibly horny. he can feel your heartbeat while he also makes you feel so good, it makes him feel powerful and he's hungry for power, any kind of power. but he'd never let you pass out, that's a big no for him.

he thrusted inside and out of you, mercilessly, while he had his hand firmly wrapped around you neck, perfectly feeling how was your heart beating through your pulse point. "oh are you about to cum? yeah, cum for me, my love..." he growled when his grip got tighter, making your eyes close in pleasure. you were still moaning under him which made him go little faster. with all of this, he came as well.

⤷ Hermione - thigh riding

hermione loves when she can multitask, it's somehow comforting to her. so one time when you found her in the library, learning for some up coming test, writing into her books; you sat on her thigh, wanting to distract her, she was hooked. she loved the feeling of you on her thigh, pleasuring yourself while she could write some notes into her textbook. from that time, she loved it and she often pulls you onto her lap with her thigh in perfect position for your pussy.

she wrote the last words into her book before her hands grabbed your hips, making you move faster, making your pussy spread over her thigh. "mhm you feel good like this? yes, you do? oh i know... come on, little faster." she mumbled into your ear, kissing you all the way down to your neck while her nails dug into your soft hips making you moan.

⤷ Pansy - face-sitting

pansy is literally obsessed with your pussy and all the noises you make when her tongue is buried deep inside you. she loves to explore all your folds because every time her tongue presses against a new spot, you squeeze your thighs around her head which makes her rub her thighs against each other. her eyes are glued on you the whole time while she presses her nose against your clit.

"mhmh come on-..." she quickly mumbles before she pushes your hips more onto her mouth while her tongue pushes deep inside you. her hands helped your hips slowly move back and forth while her tongue was licking each of your folds, swallowing each of your juice that she got on her tongue. your moans filled her ears and she could see you were getting closer which made her tongue work even faster.

[lenny-link]

TF2 x SU au fusions!

oof this took too long but i finally made it !

I kept @gracefireheart Andalusite (HeavyMedic) and @cariocay ‘s Turquoise (EngieSpy) (that i just realized their account got deactivated just a few days ago im sad now) fusion designs because i just found them perfect and whenever i wanted to try making my own designs i always ended up with making something similar to theirs since i was very influenced so i just kept them! They’re so awesome plz check the original artists!

my designs :3 :

About the fusions:

I tried to choose a theme for every fusion that suits the characters like Spessartite (DemoSolly) is a warrior i put Demo’s sword with Soldier’s shield thing well he doesn’t specifically have a shield but yknow the helmet thing i thought that could work.

He’s very powerful, strong and jump into action without a second thought, while he possesses immense strength and a love for loud and chaotic things, his battle prowess is a double-edged sword since his attacks lack precision. however, this unpredictability often leaves his enemies confused and scrambling to defend. he fights more efficiently when drunk lol

Lepidolite (MedicSpy) is a plague doctor, he is very inspired by Hannibal Lecter (nbc Hannibal lol shout out to that one Anon who recommended it for me to watch it lol) at first i wanted to give him a bistouri as a weapon, since it would suit Medic’s saw with Spy’s small knife, but then i felt the fusion was leaning too much towards Medic than Spy, so i put a cane instead to give that old idk gentleman look :P

He is polished and sophisticated, with a hint of underlying sadism and very precise in his movements, he meticulously analyzes his opponents, exploiting weaknesses with surgical precision before jumping into action and strike right where it hurts the most, the cane appears to be a simple walking stick, but inside is a hollowed core that had a retractable, poison-tipped blade, and his poison isn't fast-acting he enjoys toying with his victims, watching as the venom slowly takes hold, fueling his twisted sense of amusement. they are far from being the strongest fusion but they rely a lot on making their opponent weaker by their ability to attack precise hits as well as poisoning them!

Carnelian (SniperScout) his design was inspired by a equestrian outfit (he was the hardest to design tbh bc i wanted his design to be specifically different from the others since Scout is half human so i wanted this "human" aspect to show in the fusion).

He is a walking paradox, he's got Sniper's calm confidence with Scout's hyperactive energy, he loves a good plan but his execution is often fueled by pure adrenaline, he can zip across the battlefield with incredible speed, dodging attacks and flanking enemies. good at mid range and long range attacks but weak at close range, has internalized monologues with himself a lot, he appears calm on the surface however, his foot constantly taps, he fidgets with his slingshot, he cannot stays in place for too long. enjoys taking challenges.

Rubellite (DemoPyro) is a robot with a 50’s cartoon style but with like a creepy vibe to it, their voice sounds like a broken radio perpetually stuck on a laugh track, is both infectious and unsettling.

They just as powerful as Spessartite but just a bit more agile and lean more on the defense style than offense, their body stretches in a cartoony way and battles become a twisted playground for them, a child's game where they hop and blow things up everywhere. they’re very joyful and loves to have fun while making chaos, they usually make jokes but no one understands their muffled voice so they often laugh all by themselves lol the weapon actually expands where the ball and the shaft of the mace connects there’s a chaine (i didnt draw it cuz there was already too much going on in the drawing lol) which helps them reach target from close to mid range easily, they twist and turn their body in very flexible ways before swatting their weapon at their target.

♠︎ If you want to suggest a pair for the next fusion please just comment here DO NOT send it in my ask box plz !!

And if you want to make your own fusion designs/fanart go ahead ! id love to see other people’s interpretations could be ! just don’t forget to tag me and add the tag ( tf2 x su au) :D

hope you enjoy !

+ early designs :

[alnilaem]

I don't know how much it fits but, keeping with the theme of butcher!simon's neighborhood being a bit dangerous:

where I grew up (rough neighborhood) there were often bars/pubs and even gas stations nearby that operated all afternoon/night and guys often congregated outside smoking cigarettes and what not. they never bothered the residents, but they damn well worked as guard dogs and warded off strangers.

so... idea: simon and his buddies hanging out outside the corner pub when reader is coming/going to her second job in the weekends, watching closely to make sure she makes it from the bus/train stop to the building door, especially after dark.

OR

alternatively!! simon who stays up and checks out of his window when reader is coming home after dark and doesn't let himself go to sleep until he hears her door unlocking and her making some type of sound (like closing her rickety door or whatever).

i dont think you understand….. reading this altered my brain so viscerally. guard dog simon. yeah.

-

“Still got yer balls in her purse?”

Simon lights his cigarette. The soft smoulder of it barely offsets the flickering streetlight above them, scarcely illuminates the sidewalk. It shines over his face, hanging from the threshold of his lips.

“Yup,” he hums. “Right where I want ‘em.”

Johnny cackles through the plume of smoke curling up and out of his lips. He pats Simon on the back, taking a long drag of his cig, and bumps his shoulder with Kyle’s.

“When’d’ya reckon he’ll let us meet the Bird?”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “When he finds someone to pay.”

“Put a sock in it,” Simon snarls. Taps the ash off his cig. 

Photo is a generous word for it. But it was the only thing Simon had to testify to your existence. A blurry, smudgy picture taken on his phone. Half-eclipsed by his thumb which was accidentally in the corner of his camera. A picture of you leaving the lift—a shallow angle of you walking in some leggings, returning from work. 

It was privy to Simon. A likeness to indulge in during his work days. But in a flitting moment, Johnny laid his eyes on it. Read him to filth for it.

And now, they’re here. 

Off-white sheets of rain running off the canopy they’re situated under. Each holding a cigarette to their lips, resting against the wet brick of a hole-in-the-wall pub. The warm hum from inside pooling into the empty streets of Manchester.

A thin sound arises from it. The chime of a shopkeeper’s bell, signifying the door is being opened. Into the diving rain, you step out, clutching a backpack against your shoulder, your uniform sticking to your skin.

It’s a heavy mass of muscle you almost run into. You stop yourself with a hand split against their chest, against the fleetly rise-and-fall of their jacket.

You have to hoist your neck up to see him. It takes you a while to reorient yourself, to recognise the depthless copper of his eyes. And it takes you even longer to register the underside of his face. Bare, flooded under the soft light of streetlights. 

“Simon!” You squeak. The succession of his heartbeat pumping under your palm. Two men hovering behind him, exchanging puckish smirks. “What are you doing here?”

Simon’s eyebrows purse like he’s confused. He tilts his head, looking at you like a puppy, and shrugs. “I’m here to pick you up.”

“Pick me up–” a chord of bemusement strikes you, collapsing your sentence. Your reservations catch up to you, hitting you like bricks. “Pick me up?”

Simon grunts. His eyes flicker down to your skirt, how it flurries in the wind, and pulls you beneath the awning. 

“Getting y’rself all wet under there,” he grumbles. “Brought you this.”

Simon holds up an umbrella. He waits for you to take it before splaying his big hand on the hind of your spine and turning you around, shepherding you forward.

Your voice is warped with bashfulness when you speak. “Where’re we going?”

“Home,” he says. Three pairs of footfall tread on your heels. Each one more intimidating than the other. Sticky and wet as they trail behind you.

“Just keep walking, Trouble,” Simon mumbles. “‘m here.”

It’s a shield that keeps everyone away. The invasive eyes, the creeping men that usually accompany you on your walk home after work. But today, they’re silent. 

The three men are a pack of dogs behind you. 

Simon, kissing the ground before you walk on it.

[xxsabitoxx]

Pale Blue [Part Two]

Geto Suguru x AFAB Pregnant Reader

READ PART ONE HERE

Warnings: THIS FIC IS CANON COMPLIANT, if you are not caught up on Jujutsu Kaisen's manga, or at the very least if you have not seen "gojo's past" you WILL be spoiled. This story contains darker themes, heavier topics, pregnancy and all the lovely details of it, and lastly explicit sexual content. Read at your own risk!

A/N: Here she is, months overdue, but here she is. I know nobody will want to read my author note considering the behemoth before you but I just want to thank you for sticking with me for so long. I am, of course, already working on part 3 and will continue to work on it as I continue my hiatus. The only thing I ask of you is to take your time and enjoy! I know I am going to be returning to inactivity very soon but your comments, reblogs, and asks are always welcomed and always appreciated. I love y'all endlessly and I hope you enjoy it.

WORD COUNT: 36.1K | Playlist

September 2007

Two weeks had passed since you discovered you were pregnant with Suguru’s baby. Now you were sitting in a dull waiting room, blinded by fluorescent lights as you waited for your name to be called. Shoko had taken the news well, not that you expected her to be shocked in any capacity. She had said something along the lines of “I knew it.” when you had told her the next day, Satoru, who was  by your side, was slightly disappointed she didn’t have a bigger reaction. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go back with you?” Shoko had leaned closer to you, whispering so other people in the waiting room wouldn't hear. “I’m sure, Shoko. I’ll be okay.” 

It had taken weeks to see a doctor, mostly because she had been booked out. Your morning sickness hadn’t gotten much better, so you assumed you were still lingering somewhere in your first trimester. September was slowly coming to an end, with October looming on the horizon the world had slowly begun its transition to reflect that. This transition brought you the weather you really needed, allowing you to wear comfortable baggy clothing. “The perfect time to hide a pregnancy.” you had mused, much to Satoru’s disdain. Your leg bounced at the memory, your hand coming to rest on your stomach. It was a habit that you had picked up shortly after the test came back positive. You felt the urge to protect them, even though they were as safe as they could be, snuggling in your womb. There was truly no place safer for them right now. 

Things hadn’t gotten all that easier either, within the past two weeks, you had to live through the one month anniversary of Suguru’s deflection. It had been harder to swallow than you thought it would be, the sinking reality that four weeks had passed since you had seen his face was unbearable. Going from seeing him nearly every second of everyday to nothing at all felt as cold as the air at night. You had to wonder what he was doing at that very moment, maybe he was up making those girls breakfast. The idea of him being a father already, caring for those two little girls, it made your heart flutter and sink at the very same time. You wanted to be there, you wanted to help him, you wanted to tell him you were pregnant, that he got what he wanted. 

“Y/N Y/L/N?” 

You blinked back into reality as Shoko hit your arm, a nurse dressed in light pink scrubs was looking around the waiting room after calling the next name on her list. You nearly jumped out of your chair, motioning for Shoko to stay where she was as you got up and made your way over. You ignored the small grumble from her, it seems she had still intended on following you back for the appointment despite your reassurance of being okay to go alone. “Good morning dear, follow me.” You mustered the best smile you could in response,uttering a soft “morning” as she grabbed the door handle to enter the portion of the office that held the exam rooms. You went through the routine process, having your weight and height checked before being brought into a private room. It was different from other doctors offices, there was an ultrasound set up and various posters about sexual health and pregnancy scattered about. It made you feel a bit dizzy. 

“So we had you take a urine sample and get your blood while you waited, I have the results of the urine test but not the blood yet. That should be ready for you once the doctor is ready to come in and perform the exam… in the meantime let’s go over the basics” She was typing on her laptop as she spoke, looking at you briefly as you nodded. Your hands were clasped together in front of you, feeling cold and clammy at the same time. You shifted due to your nerves, the paper below you crumpling as you fidgeted. The nurse went through the basics, making sure your insurance information and home address was correct. “You’re in college?” she questioned absentmindedly, as if trying to make small talk with you. “No, not yet. I graduate high school in the spring.” You felt your face grow warm as she let out a soft “oh.” 

Luckily for you, she didn’t press further and hid her judgment within seconds. You kept your eyes trained on the floor as she continued her interrogation, getting your basic health and allergies on file before shutting her laptop and gracing you with a fake smile. “Alright then, that’s it for my portion of the exam. The doctor will be in shortly to discuss your results.” You nodded, thanking her quietly as she left the room. Silence rang in your ears as you were left alone with nothing but your thoughts. hands still clasped tightly together as you dragged your eyes away from the floor and observed the examination room. There were shelves on the wall with various pamphlets, all of them geared towards women's reproductive health and pregnancy. 

You used to laugh at those things when you were younger, wondering if anyone would even bother taking them. Now, you were tempted to get up and go grab a few for yourself. But as you moved, the paper crinkled so loudly that it made you still again. It reminded you of just how silent the godforsaken room was, it reminded you of how alone you were. Now, as you sat there, you wished you had just let Shoko get up and follow you back here. You needed someone to talk you off the ledge, it was likely Shoko would have been allowed back here with you,  considering most women brought their partners with them. It would have brought you two a good laugh for the nurses to assume you were a lesbian couple. 

You could hear Shoko now, coming up with some asinine plot to what the nurses probably thought was going on with the two of you. Probably contemplating who your “real” partner was considering Shoko couldn’t get you pregnant. Though, your partner still wasn’t aware of his child growing within your body. Suguru should be here in this room with you, sitting in the empty chair across from the exam table you sat on. He should have been filling this empty space with jokes about how nervous you looked, making you laugh and forget why you were scared in the first place. But he wasn’t. You were doing this alone. That was the part that hurt the most, because this whole “doing it alone” thing was your choice. 

At some point during your storm of emotions, you had begun to blame yourself for Suguru not being with you. Your brain took the liberty of twisting the events in your mind so harshly that they had deteriorated all together, you couldn’t recall the truth anymore. Somewhere along the way, you had convinced yourself this was your choice, that Suguru wasn’t here because you were keeping him away. A quick couple of knocks on the door signaled the doctor’s arrival, effectively pulling you out of your forlorn daze. “Good morning, how are you?” A short, plump woman entered the room with a cheery smile, one you couldn’t help but return. “I’m alright.” Which was pure bullshit, but she didn't really need to know your whole life story. 

“Ah, that’s better than most answers.” she chuckled to herself, setting her clipboard down on the counter and reaching for soap so she could wash her hands. You found yourself flinching, suddenly feeling bad for lying to a woman who hadn’t known of your existence until walking through that door only seconds prior. “I have the results of your blood test…” she started, scrubbing her hands until they turned visibly soapy. “If it were bad news, I’d be telling you a lot more formally than this. However, your results were looking very good! You’re definitely pregnant.” You let out a shaky sigh of relief, hand resting over your stomach again as you smiled. “That’s wonderful news.” because, despite everything, it really was. You could now look at this as a shimmering ray of hope peaking out among your storm clouds. 

The doctor smiled, turning off the water and reaching for paper towels. “Your results indicate you are roughly around the eleven week mark. You’re nearly done with your first trimester.” That was a bit jarring to you, and by the look on the woman’s face, she could tell. “It’s not unusual for some women to go a while without realizing, some women don’t even know they are pregnant until they go into labor and assume it’s kidney stones. Have you missed your cycle?” She was pulling blue gloves over her hands as she spoke. So much information being thrown at you that you had to blink for a moment before uttering  “I’ve been going through some things in my personal life, I suppose my last cycle was sometime in June then… I assumed it was stress.” 

“That would line up with the HCG levels, you likely got pregnant early to mid-july. But don’t worry, I should be able to pinpoint it a little more accurately with an ultrasound.” Your heart skipped a beat, you hadn’t expected to see your baby this soon. You watched her move to turn on the machine, brows creasing as you began trying to shift through your hazy memories. You figured it was likely useless to try and pinpoint when Suguru could have gotten you pregnant, because the damage was already done at this point. You realized you hadn’t responded, clearing your throat a bit as she walked over to the machine and began turning it on. “So, I’ll be entering my second trimester soon? I-is it alright that I didn’t know for this long? I-is the baby okay?” You felt your lip tremble as you spoke, suddenly more anxious than before. 

“Oh honey…” the doctor stopped what she was doing and reached out a hand to place it over your own. “You are perfectly fine, baby should be doing good too. We’ll get to hear their heartbeat in just a few minutes and I’ll be able to give you a rough timeline for the rest of your pregnancy. I can assure you, it’s okay that you didn’t know until recently. We’ll get you on some prenatals and other vitamins to keep you and baby in tip-top shape.” Her presence was grandmotherly, it set your racing mind at ease. Mentally you would have to remember to thank Shoko for finding this woman for you. “Thank you.” you breathed out as she placed some of her supplies on the metal tray beside the exam bed. You had so much you could say at that moment but thanking her was the only thing that would come out. “No problem, honey.” 

A few beats of silence passed before she spoke again. “Alright, I’m going to have you lay back and lift your shirt for me, pull down your sweatpants a bit as well.” You took a shaky breath, nodding as she moved around the table to flick off the main lights. The exam room was left in a golden glow from the small lamp on the desk in the corner, paired with the fluorescent-ish glow from the ultrasound screen. You did as she instructed, lifting your shirt and pushing down the waistband of your sweats so your stomach was no longer obstructed. “The gel is going to be a little cold, but it warms up quick.” Your throat felt dry, so you nodded, hands clasping tightly together to rest on your chest as you watched her squirt some of the clear liquid on your abdomen. “I’m also going to have to press down a bit, which may cause some discomfort at first but I assure you that the baby is safe while I do this.” You nodded again, mouth feeling too dry to respond verbally at that moment. “Alright, let’s see your baby.” 

You gave a shaky smile, eyes immediately focusing on the black screen as she pressed the ultrasound’s wand to your stomach. You flinched a bit before getting used to the feeling of the wand pressing so deeply. “Sorry, honey. At this stage the baby is so small that we really need to get in there… if this doesn’t pick them up then I may have to do an internal ultrasound.” She was walking you through each step, which you were abundantly grateful for. After a little bit of searching, she let out a happy sigh as something small and vaguely baby shaped appeared on the screen. “There they are! At this stage they are just starting to kick and stretch, but they are too little for you to feel it yet.” You couldn’t breath, eyes zeroing in on the tiny little thing that was your child. The doctor was smiling, using her other hand to take pictures and measure. 

“Ah, what an over achiever, they are nearly two inches in length right now! They are measuring a little ahead.” You couldn’t help but smile, eyes turning a bit glossy. “Just like their daddy, he’d be so proud.” The words felt foreign but at the same time they felt just right, your head would surely implode if you dwelled on it for too long. The doctor only chuckled, clicking some buttons on the keyboard to snap more pictures as she moved the wand around your stomach. You were thankful she didn’t inquire further about the father, though you were sure it was probably against practice to ask such personal things outright. “Well, mama, would you like to hear their heartbeat?” You inhaled sharply, eyeing her suspiciously to make sure she wasn’t joking. “I-I would love to.” your tone was shaky, hands curling at your sides as she smiled. “Alright, one sec.” 

After a small stretch of silence, you heard it. Through the speakers, the strong and steady heartbeat of your baby met your ears. You let out a choked sob, the noise surprising you as your hand shot up to cover your mouth, it was probably the best thing you’ve heard over the course of the last month. You didn’t want it to end, you wanted to sit there on that table and look at your baby, hear their heartbeat, for as long as you possibly could. “They are doing wonderful, mama. It’s too soon to tell the gender, but the baby is doing great. You have nothing to worry about.” you nodded, heart aching a bit as she turned the sound off and pulled the wand away. 

“I’ll have those pictures printed so you can take them home.” She wiped the gel off of your stomach, tossing it in the trash before moving around the table to turn the lights on again. You sat up, wiping your eyes as you pulled your shirt down and readjusted your sweats. “That would be wonderful, thank you.” you chuckled a bit as she handed you some tissues for your face and nose. “Now that we’ve got all the fun stuff out of the way, I’m going to prescribe you some prenatals and other vitamins like we discussed earlier. If you’ll give me a few minutes, I’ll go get things in order so you’ll leave here feeling a little less overwhelmed.” You smiled, thanking her again as you resituated yourself on the table. She stepped out a moment later, still grinning. 

Once again you were “alone”, but this time it didn’t feel all that lonely.

—

“Did you really mean what you said last week?” You set your pen down, looking across your room to see Suguru sitting at your desk. You were both working on different assignments but still wanted to spend time together. “Hmm?” Suguru set his own pen down, turning his body to look at you where you sat on your own bed. “About… ya know… wanting to get me pregnant.” You watched a shy smile pass over Suguru’s face as he sighed. “Yeah… I meant it.” He started softly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. You had to chuckle at the fact that Suguru had stuffed an extra pen through his bun, just in case the other died while writing. “I guess you could say I have baby fever.” 

“Baby fever, huh?” you teased, putting your notebook to the side as you did. “Yeah, baby fever. I just… fuck I don’t know it’s been a thought on my mind for a while now. I keep seeing these happy families, their small children giggling and playing and… I started daydreaming about what it would be like to be a father. When I envisioned our baby, fuck my heart just melted.” he sighed, face turning a little red before he continued on. “I started thinking about how cute you’d look pregnant, how cute you’d be as a mom. How sweet it would be to hear their little voice calling you mama.” Your lips parted, completely entranced by the world he was painting you. 

“Suguru.” you stated rather bluntly, smiling as his head shot up to look at you. At some point in his rambling, he had begun staring into space, as if envisioning the things he talked about. “Y-yeah?” You laugh softly, crawling off your bed and crossing the small space until you stand before him. “Come here.”  You smile, hands gently cupping his cheeks and forcing his head to look up at you. “ I love you so much.” You started softly, thumb gingerly brushing along the plains of his cheekbone. Suguru swallowed, brown eyes observing every inch of your face. “I love you too.” He breathed, subconsciously leaning into your touch. “If you’re serious, if you truly want a baby…”

“I do.” 

Your lips parted before you smiled brightly, giggling a bit at his instant reassurance. “... then I am more than willing to try and conceive.”  You hadn’t intended for it to come out so seductive, but the way Suguru’s breathing hitched told you it had a dual effect. “Really?” You nodded, thumb still gently caressing his cheeks. “I know we’re young and all, but I think there is no time better than the present to chase your dreams.” You snorted at your own cheesiness, laughing as Suguru’s arms came around your waist to hug you tightly. “Thank you.” his voice was soft, just above a whisper. “You know, I have to ask, Suguru… especially since you seemed to put a ton of thought into this.” 

“Yeah? Anything. Ask away.” You reached up and tugged the pen out of his bun, fingers moving to delicately pull his hair out of the bun itself. You always enjoyed it when he had his hair down. “What was the moment that made you realize it was more than just a desire, that it was something you actually wanted. I know you said you saw families and all that but… you’re a man of purpose. Something in particular egged you on and I’m dying to know what.” From the way his cheeks turned red, you knew you had hit the nail on the head. He wasn’t lying about the baby fever, but you knew him too well to know that it wasn’t just an accumulation of events. 

One thing in particular had been his “breaking point” of sorts. 

“Alright you caught me.” he sighed deeply, eyes glancing away from you before looking up again. “Remember that weekend I went home to visit family?” You nodded, hands sliding down to rest on his shoulders. Suguru’s arms opened, allowing you to climb onto his lap as he spoke. “Well, my cousin had just had her baby a few weeks prior. Since she knew I was coming home to visit for the weekends, she came over with her new baby to introduce us.” You nodded again, humming thoughtfully as you twirled some of his hair around your fingers. “I don’t think I’ve ever held a baby before.” He added, cheeks a rosy pink instead of flaming red. 

“And when she put that little baby in my arms I… fuck I just melted.” 

He swallowed, finding it endearing that you were so invested in every word he spoke. “I just remember thinking that… there was nothing more special than that bond. The bond between mother and child… between father and child. I found myself imagining what it would be like to hold my own newborn… and I was serious when I said every time I envisioned it, they always looked like you.” He relaxed a bit when you leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before pulling away again. “That’s a beautiful reason, you know.” You hugged him after saying it, letting your chin rest on his shoulders as his arms encompassed your waist and squeezed. 

“I want to be a dad, I’ve known that from the very moment I held that baby. But I… if you aren’t ready… I don’t want to force you to do anything.” The vulnerability in his voice made your heart squeeze, it was very rare that Suguru was openly shy about something. “No time better than the present, ya know.” You whispered it again, feeling his breath stutter as you spoke. “Really?” he breathed out again, as if in disbelief that you were saying yes despite already agreeing once before. 

You nod, trying to contain your smile. “It’s not like it’ll happen right away, it takes time. Most couples have to try for a while before they strike gold.” 

“I guess that is true, there are a lot of factors that go into this… it’s a miracle that women are even able to conceive in the first place when you truly look at it.” you felt yourself giggling, finding it cute that Suguru had clearly put some research into this whole idea too. He wanted it, so bad, you couldn’t bear the thought of not trying to give it to him. “So… what do you say, shall we start now?” you pulled away from his hug, grinning deviously at him. “Right now?” Suguru looked shocked, eyes wide and lips slightly parted before he was able to collect his thoughts. “Yeah, right now.” studies could wait, of course they could. Suguru knew that just as well as you did. 

Suguru answered you with a kiss, lips melting against your own as his hands clung to your waist. 

—

“So this… is the baby?” Satoru’s glasses hung low on his nose, blue eyes observing the glossy paper intently. “Yep, that’s the baby.” You were laying on the couch, head resting on Shoko’s lap as she absentmindedly played with your hair. “Are you… sure?” Satoru was having a difficult time comprehending that the white, vaguely human-shaped blob on the glossy sheets of paper was a baby. “Positive, Satoru. They don’t start looking like a real human until around the twenty week mark.” Satoru shot you a glance over one of the photos, a smile tugging on his lips as he spoke “So what you’re saying is you’re carrying an alien for a while.” This time it was Shoko to interject, shooting Satoru a glare as she threw her lighter at him. “Be nice, Satoru.” 

You, on the other hand, had begun to laugh. “I’ll take away uncle privileges, Satoru.”

“Hey! Let’s not get too hasty there, Mothership.” Satoru looked mildly offended at the idea of you pulling his uncle privileges before he could even get them. You sat up now, eyes meeting Shoko’s before you burst out laughing. “Did you just call me mothership?” You would be offended if it was anyone other than Satoru using the nickname. “...Maybe.” Satoru had set the photos down on his lap, no longer holding them up to examine like he was looking for a hidden secret. “You’re so mean, Satoru.” Shoko sighed, sad that your warmth was no longer on her lap. “She’s laughing, Shoko!” Satoru tried to defend his honor, it was still a rare sight to see you laughing. 

“What is with all the commotion?” The three of you fell silent instantly, heads turning to see Yaga enter the common room. You had yet to inform the principal of your pregnancy, he had absolutely no idea that you were carrying Suguru’s baby. You had intended on telling him after you told Shoko the following morning, but you chickened out and had yet to find the courage. “Nothing major, just hanging out.” Careful as possible, Satoru was sliding the ultrasound pictures behind the arm of the couch so Yaga couldn’t see them. Luckily for the three of you, his eyes were mainly focused on you. “I hadn’t heard your laugh in a while, y/n. I thought you may have lost it.” 

“Ah, well, leave it to Satoru to find it for me again.” You smiled, an almost real smile that still felt foreign on your lips. You were certain you would never feel the joy of a real, genuine smile until Suguru was in your arms again. Though, that day may never come. You were still heavily weighing your options, knowing the choice you wanted to pick was the one that would cost you the things you had within your reach. Your love for Suguru would never blind you from the fact that you loved Shoko and Satoru just as dearly… at least you hoped it wouldn’t. “Ah, he’s good for something I suppose.” His tone was teasing, earning snickers from both you and Shoko. 

“You wound me, principal!” 

Yaga just shook his head, smiling a bit before moving to leave the room. “Remember, you three, I’m always a call away.” You all shared a knowing glance before nodding your heads. With that, Yaga left the common area, leaving the three of you to relax again. Satoru was careful as he pulled the ultrasound pics up again, looking them over one last time before folding them neatly and reaching across to give them to you. “That was close.” he offered with a grin as you took them and set them face down on the coffee table. “It was, but you managed to hide them well, Toru.” You grinned as you settled back again, lying comfortably with your head on Shoko’s lap. 

“See, Yaga isn���t wrong, he is good for something.” Shoko laughed as Satoru rolled his eyes, flipping her the finger before reaching for the lighter she had chucked at him. “You seem to forget I can keep this.” He taunted her with her favorite lighter, you weren’t even sure why she threw it in the first place considering Satoru’s infinity was able to block it. It had bounced off of his barrier and landed on the couch cushion beside him. Again, you three were lucky that Yaga hadn’t seen it, he was pretty convinced Shoko had given up on the smoking habit. “Give it back, Satoru, I’m too comfy to have her moving.” You whined as Shoko tried to get off the couch. 

“You heard the pregnant lady, give it.” Shoko taunted, knowing she had already won the battle thanks to you. “Fine, fine, here.” he tossed it over, uttering out “nice catch” as Shoko caught it with one hand. “So, back to business.” Shoko smiled as she twirled the lighter around her fingers. “How are we telling Yaga that little miss here is pregnant with the problem child’s baby?” You made a noise of annoyance at Shoko’s words, smiling a bit as she raised her eyebrow at you. “Well, I don’t think it will be easy telling anyone… Besides you, Shoko. You took the news like a champ.” Satoru was still reeling over how calm she had been about the whole thing. 

—

“Are you sure you want to tell her right now?” Satoru was buttoning his uniform top, you two would still have to continue on with your lives like it was any other day. “She needs to know, there is no way I could keep this from her.” She basically already knew, but you couldn’t say that to Satoru yet. Just in case Shoko had the opposite of the reaction you were anticipating. The whole concept still felt foreign to you, so did the fact that it felt natural for your hand to rest on your abdomen. You didn’t think you should be adapting to this so quickly, then again what were you supposed to do? 

“I know that, I’m not saying we never tell her. But you still seem to be pretty in shock over this.” 

“Which is exactly why I need to tell her.” If anything goes wrong in your life, Shoko has always been the person you ran to. It wasn’t until Suguru left that you had started running to Satoru instead. Part of you felt guilty about that, like you were leaving her in the dust. She knew you and Satoru’s pain just as well, it hurt you to know you had started seeking comfort in him rather than her. “If you insist, I’ll back you up all the way.” he grinned as you pouted, feet kicking idly. 

You had snuck off and gotten dressed before he even woke up. Now all that was left was to rip off the band-aid and reveal to Shoko that she had been right all along. “I’m glad you aren’t scared of Shoko’s wrath.” you laughed as you pushed off of his bed, shuffling to the door with a grin. “I’m not the one that got you pregnant, her wrath isn’t directed at me.” You felt your cheeks grow warm as you shook your head, pushing his door open and heading into the hall. “You’re too blunt sometimes, Satoru.” You felt mildly embarrassed about how he put it, that and an odd sense of possessiveness. 

“Well it’s the truth, Suguru is the one that knocked you up.” He shrugged as he followed you out into the hall, turning to shut the door just as you reached up and smacked his shoulder. “And you’re fucking vulgar! Be kind!” your tone was a mix of teasing and annoyance, one Satoru knew quite well. If he had to work you up to get glimpses of your old self, then so be it. “I am being kind, you’re just being sensitive.” risky thing to say to a woman, nevermind a pregnant woman. 

“You are a menace, Gojo Satoru.” You huffed, crossing your arms to glare at him as he replied with a sheepish grin. “Hey, sorry, I can’t help it sometimes. You’re just so easy to tease.” He made a kissy face at you, watching your nose scrunch in amusement before turning to head down the hall. “I’ll have to work on making things harder for you, Satoru.” You sighed as he whistled. “Don’t quite know how Suguru would feel about that.” He was laughing when you turned to swing on him, a smile pulling at your lips as he blocked you. “A menace and a perv… I’ll start sharing Shoko’s bed.” 

“Hey! No way! You’re so warm, I like having you in my bed.” Satoru pouted, as if you were a cat looking to find a new home. “Eh, don’t know how Suguru would feel about that.” You mimicked him, smiling widely now as he rolled his eyes. “I guess you’re right.” Ever since you realized, it has become a little easier to say Suguru’s name. You had to wonder why, your emotions were still a stormy mess but… speaking about him didn’t really hurt that bad right now. Maybe you were just riding on a high of emotions, but compared to the low from the night before… you had doubts. 

“Shoko!” you knocked on her door, glancing back at Satoru as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He was pretty sure he was masking his anxiety well, but you knew better than anyone that Satoru was mentally shitting his pants at the idea of informing Shoko about your predicament. “One minute!” Her voice rang from the other side of the door, mildly surprised in tone to hear you. She had expected Satoru, just as she had been expecting him every morning to go pull you out of your depression pit dorm room. For you to be at her door too… something was up. 

“What’s with the welcome party?” Shoko’s door swung open, eyes traveling over the two of you with a quirked brow. “Got some news for ya…” you started bold, not missing the way Satoru inhaled sharply. “News for me? About?” she had no idea where you could be going with this, but she assumed any direction you took would lead to Suguru somehow. “Well you see… that conversation we had yesterday…” and Shoko knew immediately. “Shoko, I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh, okay.”

“That… you’re fucking kidding me! That’s IT?” Satoru looked completely appalled at the woman’s casual response. You were a bit surprised yourself but that didn’t stop you from laughing at Satoru’s over reaction. “Yeah, that’s it. Am I supposed to scream or something?” Shoko was stepping into the hall, turning to shut her dorm room’s door before turning back to face you and Satoru. “So what do we do now?” Satoru couldn’t believe it, from the gut wrenching sobs you had made, he half expected the world to implode when it was time for you to tell another person. 

So…when it didn’t… he couldn’t quite get over it. “That’s a great question, honestly I have no idea.” You sighed, feeling a little antsy as you turned to walk down the hall. “Ya know, this isn’t fair.” Satoru pouted, arms crossing as he followed after you with no hesitation. “What isn't fair?” Shoko questioned as she fell into step beside you. “That you got the easy reveal and the easy reaction. She nearly gave me a fucking heart attack last night! I mean really I felt my balls shrivel.” 

You nearly tripped over your own two feet at that, laughter so genuine bubbling out of you that it made the previous night feel like a distant memory. “Ew TMI Satoru.” Shoko plugged her nose, sticking her tongue out as the three of you made your way down the stairs and out to the sunny day ahead. “It’s the damn truth.” Satoru mumbled under his breath as you pushed through the double doors, shoving his sunglasses further up his face in an attempt to block out the blinding sun. 

“I mean I’ll side with him this time, Shoko. I really did scare the life out of him. I thought he was going to faint.” You had collapsed into his arms, if anyone was about to faint, it would have been you. “That’s only half true.” Satoru mumbled in defeat, throwing himself down on a picnic table bench and watching as you and Shoko clambered into the other side. “It’s not important right now, what’s important is trying to figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do now. I don’t want anyone knowing besides the two of you. Not Yaga, not Utahime, Meimei, Nanami…” 

“We get it.” Satoru stuck his tongue out, feeling far cheekier than usual this morning. Maybe it was because he was still partially convinced he had smacked his head and this was all a dream. “So rude this morning, Toru~” there was a hint of a smile on your face though, one that had the tips of his ears burning pink as you turned to look at Shoko. “The first thing we need to do is get you a doctor. If the tests came back positive, it still needs to be confirmed with blood work. Along with that they need to make sure the baby is actually growing.” Shoko pulled out a pack of cigarettes as she spoke.

“Okay, so, doctors is the next step… then what?” Satoru questioned, watching the flame ignite on the end of Shoko’s lighter. “Then I grow the baby till they are ready to be born.” You said in a bored tone. You knew what Satoru was implying but you weren’t ready to cross that bridge yet. Suguru needed to know, you were still hanging onto that fact. You couldn't do this without him. “Oh gee I would have never guessed.” Satoru deadpanned as he snatched Shoko’s pack, ignoring her glare as he also snatched her lighter. “I’m not in the mood to discuss that part yet, Satoru.” 

Your tone was final, so much so that Shoko merely nodded, eyes glaring holes into Satoru’s head so he wouldn't dare push the topic. He swallowed his words, putting the cigarette to his lips before mumbling out “fine, I’ll drop it… for now.” 

—

The day had come and gone, night had fallen once more and you found yourself lounging in Satoru’s bed. He was showering at the moment so you had it to yourself, the dim light of the little lamp on his desk was just enough for you to admire the ultrasound photos. You had been looking at them on and off all day, still struggling to comprehend that it was your baby. “It’s crazy that you’ll continue to grow into a living, breathing, talking person. You’ll have your own personality, your own thoughts, your own voice…” you hummed softly, hand resting on your abdomen as you spoke to your baby’s pictures. It all felt so damn surreal. 

“I wonder what your daddy would think…” You felt your voice crack as you whispered those words out loud. Your heart was still aching from his absence, but with your child growing, it was hard to feel totally alone. Part of him was growing within you, you just needed him to know it. You straightened the moment Satoru’s bathroom door opened, wiping your eyes in an attempt to make it look like you were yawning instead. “Not visiting Shoko tonight?” Satoru smiled, white shirt hanging on his lean frame, a towel resting on his shoulders and collecting the water droplets from his damp hair. “Nah, she said she needed to get some stuff done.” 

“She’s such a procrastinator, the deadlines for those med-school applications are like two days from now.” You nodded, you weren’t quite sure how your friend intended on getting the seven applications done in time. “I highly doubt she’ll be truthful to them anyways.” You laughed, she was determined to get in with no prior college experience or any experience in the medical field save for her curse technique. But, if there was anyone who could cheat their way into med-school, it would definitely be Shoko. “She’ll somehow be fine… she always is.” Satoru chuckled as he moved about his room, picking up his towel to dry his white locks. 

With his back turned to you, he nearly whispered what he said next. “You’re sad again.” You felt your brows twitch before forcing them into perfectly maintained neutrality. “When have I not been sad, Satoru?” you tried softly, folding the ultrasound pictures neatly together again from their extended accordion strip. “You know what I mean, y/n. You were crying before I came in.” You stopped folding, inhaling shakily before turning to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t crying yet. You actually interrupted me, Satoru.” you weren’t even sure why you had been trying to hide it in the first place. There was no sneaking anything by him. Those six eyes of his were always on alert, always observant, even more so nowadays. 

Satoru was still quiet, his towel resting on his shoulders again as he turned to observed you. “I miss him terribly, Satoru. Nothing is going to fix that.” You could tell he was stewing on something, but he was holding himself back. “Say it, whatever it is you're thinking, say it.” This time, he looked mildly surprised, not used to being the one so easily read. “You’re not going to see him.” He stated rather plainly, but you could see his jaw clenching after he uttered the words out loud. You felt your stomach twist in the same way it had with your morning sickness… morning sickness you had become quite acquainted with at this point. 

“I didn’t plan on it.” You shot back, lying through your teeth like he wouldn’t be able to pick you apart in an instant. “Yeah, bull shit y/n. I’m not stupid.” You felt anger bubbling over the nausea, not particularly enjoying the way he was talking down to you. “Watch your tone, Satoru.” Dangerously low, full of promise. It was enough to snap him back into reality for a second. “Sorry.” he started “I’ll be more mindful. However, that doesn’t change my previous statement.” You felt your head tilting, eyes narrowing as you sized the strongest sorcerer up. “You do not get to decide what I can and cannot do, Satoru.” 

There, you finally said it, maybe it was very indirect but Satoru knew exactly what you meant with those words. He looked stunned, but at the same time if he had any fight left in him, he wasn’t going to push upon the matter. Your gaze didn’t soften, rather it continued to size him up until his shoulders sagged. “Forget I said anything, you’re right. I don’t get a say in it.” Yet, you could tell he was saying it just to maintain peace. You weighed your options, was it really worth giving up your sanity for a fight you weren’t willing to have yet? In the end, you swallowed your emotions, wondering if it was possible that your hormones were already causing mood swings. “We can discuss this when we are both ready… not weighed down by our own baggage.” 

Finally, your gaze had returned to its normal, slightly sad state. Satoru found that it was easier for him to breathe again, so he pulled the towel off his shoulders and turned to enter his bathroom. “I agree.” He called as he hung the damp towel over the top of his curtain rods, letting it air dry till morning so he could put it in the hamper to be washed. “Let’s talk about something else, yeah?” He emerged with a smile, the tension in the room subsiding considerably as you relaxed back into his covers, comfortable under his blankets. “Gladly.” You teased him, turning onto your side as he flopped down beside you. “Do you have any name ideas yet?” 

You blinked, not thinking that was the route he was going to take. “Oh-uhm… well I’ve certainly thought about it over the last two weeks. I don’t know if I want to find out their gender… I’m tempted to wait until they are born. Makes it more fun that way but… I’m eager.” You confess with a dreamy smile, one that has Satoru’s lips parting in awe for a moment before he quickly recovers. “I don’t know how you’d do it, I’ve been itching to know since you told me.” He confessed softly, eyes lingering to where your hand had found its new home. He didn’t think a day had gone by in these last few weeks where he didn’t see your hand resting on your stomach. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it, Satoru. When the time comes, when she asks if I want to know the gender… I don’t think I’ll be able to say no.” You laughed softly, you were indifferent to what your baby’s gender would be. You didn’t care if they were a boy or a girl, you would be over the moon with either. But you were dying to know so you could buy them things, settle on a good name, look at baby furniture… “Are you going to share the name ideas or are you keeping them a secret?” He questioned when he saw you were starting to space out. He had been keen on trying to ground you in the present lately. 

“Oh well…” you started softly, suddenly shy to share the names you and Suguru had discussed what felt like centuries ago at this point. “For a boy, we discussed names like Ren, Ritsu, Isamu… oh and we really liked the name Hajime.” For some reason it felt very intimate to share this information. “But of course… it all depends on what he looks like. We can pick any name we want but really you can’t make the decisions till you meet them.” Satoru nodded, “I would go out on a limb to suggest Satoru… pretty solid name in my opinion.” You started to laugh, slapping his chest lightly “You’re relentless, Satoru.” 

“I may be relentless, but you love me.” He countered as you rolled your eyes. “I, unfortunately, have to agree with that.” You smiled at him, settling further into the bed before he spoke again. “How about girl names?” Satoru questioned, genuine curiosity shining in his eyes. “Oh well, we have way more of those than we do boy names. Suguru is particularly attached to Ayame and Sachi.” Satoru felt his cheeks redden, it seemed that it was just now hitting him how intimate this moment was. “I rather like Sachi and Ayame too but I really like the name Hanako.” There were a few others but you knew those three were the top contenders for a baby girl. 

“I mean Satoru can be a unisex name…” He added softly, trying to lighten the mood a bit because this was all starting to feel way too personal. Not that he really minded, it was more for his sake than yours. Laying in bed beside you, discussing baby names, it was playing with his head. “It is fully a male name, I would not name my little girl Satoru.” You laughed softly, trying to stifle your yawn as you pushed his shoulder. “Okay fine, I’ll drop the Satoru name agenda… for now.” You just smiled at him, shaking your head in an attempt to ignore the way your eyelids were steadily dropping. “You’re trying to fight your sleep?” this time, Satoru pushed your shoulder. 

“I guess I am…” you yawned, eyes watering “... I just like talking to you, Toru.” You felt warm and safe snuggled under his blankets and under the gaze of his watchful eyes. “I like talking to you too but…” his voice had cracked, heat flooding his cheeks as your eyes closed a little more. “But you need your rest, you’re literally growing another human inside of you. I’ll be here in the morning.” You nodded, eyes nearly closed completely at this point. “I guess you’re right…” he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Always guessing and never just admitting I’m right… good night.” He finished in a way you couldn’t argue with, leaving you to just sleepily hum in acknowledgment. 

—

He would stay awake longer than he wanted to, simply to watch your chest rise and fall as you slept soundly. He would remind himself with every small flutter of your eyelashes that you were dreaming, you were alive, you were breathing. Most importantly, he’d try and make himself believe that you weren't on your way out the door, leaving him behind just as Suguru had. 

But he knew better, god dammit he knew better and he hated himself for it. 

He could see it, with each passing day, each passing hour, your heart was choosing its path. The path that led straight out of his life and into the arms of the man you really loved. How he wished it was him, how desperately, selfishly Satoru wished it were him that you loved. The guilt would gnaw at his chest, making it feel like someone was ripping his heart open tendon by tendon, the blood leaking out an inky black. So weighed down by his guilt that it was tainted. 

He had tried, for years he had tried to suppress it. But nothing in this universe could block out the love he held for you so deep in his chest that it took the air from his lungs. He loved you, with every fiber of his being, even now he couldn’t understand how he had gotten so close to you without cracking and shattering to the floor like fine china. Satoru knew that even a month ago, the idea of holding you as you cried would have seemed like an impossible task. 

Not because he couldn’t restrain himself, god he couldn’t even think of you in that way without feeling immense guilt. But because he didn’t think he would ever be able to let you go. Initially he had been right, he had struggled, albeit for a fraction of a second, but he had let you go. Had you told him two months ago that he would be falling asleep with you beside him, he would have fainted on the spot, he was sure of it. 

Because even though he finally had you beside him, it wasn’t in the way he truly wanted. 

The way he truly wanted would forever be unattainable, for you were not his to keep. You had been right, you had been so god damn right when you said that he had no say in what you could and couldn’t do… and it killed him. Fuck did it kill him in every way but literally. If he could, he would keep you by his side forever, away from the man he still considered his one and only best friend, he would raise your baby with you so you didn’t need Suguru to feel whole. 

But that was not the route you were going to take, and he knew it. He knew it was only a matter of time until you ripped his chest wide open and left him only a fraction of the man he was. Suguru already had one half of his heart, if you were to leave, you would be taking the only half Satoru had left with you. Leaving him with nothing, completely and utterly alone. Why couldn’t you see he was more than enough for you? 

He was convinced he could give you a good, if not better life than what Suguru could offer you. He could provide for you and your child and you would never have to lift a finger for the rest of your life. You wouldn’t have to be a jujutsu sorcerer, you wouldn’t have to work to make money. He could give you and your baby everything you could ever desire. It was a selfish thought, the selfish desire to have someone he couldn’t. 

Somewhere along the way, amid his heartbreak over Suguru, he had foolishly believed he could win your heart. As if Suguru’s deflection would suddenly make it easier, make it okay for him to pursue you. What a childish thought, what a selfish, naive thought. He loved you too much to put you in that position, he loved Suguru too much to betray him like that… even though Suguru had arguably done much worse. 

He inhaled shakily, watching your lips wobble as you must have dreamt about something. It grounded him for a moment, making everything in his room feel a little too real yet not real at all. Like he hadn’t been aware this whole time that he was alive, that this wasn’t some nightmare. For a moment, he was certain he would black out from the crushing weight of the realization. 

So he forced his eyes to close, squeezing shut so tight that colors and odd shapes began to blossom behind his eyelids. It didn’t help the way his chest had begun to rise and fall in a pattern that was starting to look like a panic attack. He didn’t know who to go to, he didn’t know who he could go to for help. The two people he always ran to were the two people he couldn’t. 

How was it possible he felt so alone when you were sleeping right beside him? How was it possible that he still ached for you when he knew you would take his heart and stomp on it. You were a ticking time bomb, and it was only a matter of days until your timer went out. So why wasn’t he savoring this? Why wasn’t he soaking in every second he had with you before you left? 

How was he already mourning you when you were right beside him? 

—

Late November 2007 

“It…It…” you huffed, trying to force the buttons of your white top together. “It doesn’t fit?” Shoko questioned with an amused face, watching you lose your breath as you tried to make the buttons clasp. Your stomach had grown considerably over the last few weeks, it was now becoming increasingly difficult to hide the fact that you were twenty weeks pregnant. “It–” you huffed out again, whining as the button you closed popped back open. Defeated, you flopped onto Shoko’s mattress, uttering out a weak “It doesn’t fit.” as she began to laugh. 

“Linen like this isn’t forgiving. You’re going to have to hope your jacket fits at least, or else you’ll be telling Yaga whether you want to or not.” You whine again, hands coming down to rest on the swell of your stomach. It had been an experience to learn you were pregnant a few months back, but to see and feel the physical proof of your child was even more surreal. You had managed to sneak past Yaga for the most part, something Satoru couldn’t even grasp. “Shoko, I give up.” She quirked an eyebrow at you as you struggled to get up. “Already?” 

“Yeah, already. I’m not going to be able to fit into my uniform and I don’t think I have the energy to try it.” The second trimester had been more forgiving than the first, but you had found yourself quickly running out of breath and stamina. It was only a matter of time until you had to take a break walking up a single flight of stairs. “I’m telling Yaga today. Fuck this.” With your white button up still only covering your breasts, you pushed out of Shoko’s bedroom and marched down the hall towards Satoru’s. 

“Satoru! Give me some clothes!” you yelled before even making it to his door, banging on it only once before he was pulling it open, visibly confused. “What in the hell happened to you?” He tried not to snicker, looking over your half-assed appearance. Luckily your uniform skirt was covering your ass but even then, it really didn’t fit you. “Give me some clothes, none of mine fit me anymore, Toru.” You pout, chest rising and falling a little faster than it usually did. 

“Alright, alright, come on in.” He pushed his glasses up his face, trying not to show any sort of amusement at the way your bump was fully out in the open. Turning, he made his way to his dresser and pulled out a knit sweater and some sweatpants. “They may be too big for you, we’ll have to go shopping later for a new wardrobe that fits you.” You caught the knit as he tossed it, you could have easily gone down the hall to your own room and gotten some of Suguru’s clothing. But, for some reason, you had chosen Satoru. 

He hated to admit it but it gave him butterflies. 

“I’m going to have to tell Yaga.” you grumbled as you undid the few buttons you had managed to get shut, tossing the garment to the floor a moment later. “Oh? We’re already at that point, huh?” Satoru leaned against his dresser, watching as you pulled his knit sweater over your head, effectively masking the fact that you were twenty weeks pregnant. “We are, I’m not in the mood to keep sneaking around him.” You shimmied out of your too tight skirt, whining as you kicked it away. You have certainly gotten more whiny and irritable over the last few days. 

Maybe it was because you were antsy, with each passing day your child grew. Meaning that Suguru was going on with his day to day life, completely unaware. You had finally decided on your resolve not too long ago, while showering one night in your own room. He needed to know, you couldn’t live with yourself if you grew this baby and birthed them without Suguru ever knowing. “Are we going the second you’re done getting dressed?” Satoru shifted his weight from foot to foot as you stepped into the pair of sweatpants he had given you. 

“Yep.” you were curt, worn out already from an action as simple as putting on clothes. “Do we even have a game plan?” Shoko’s sudden appearance made you both jump, your head whipping around so fast it would have been comical to the two of them if they didn’t know any better. Pregnancy mood swings were no joke, Satoru learned the hard way only a few days prior when teasing you and nearly losing a finger to your curse technique. “No, but I don’t see why I need to dance around the obvious. I tell him I’m pregnant and we move on.” 

You shrug, struggling to tie the string of Satoru’s sweatpants due to your stomach. “Here , let me.” Satoru closed the distance and easily tied the string in a quick knot, laughing a bit as you huffed out a thanks. “So you’re just going to drop an atomic bomb on the poor man and move on?” Shoko questioned curiously as she flicked her lighter. “Yeah, I am. And then the two of you are coming with me to go get maternity clothes.” You sigh, hand smoothing over your now barely visible bump, smiling a bit at the fluttering kick baby gave you. “Baby agrees, so no declining.” 

Satoru saluted you “whatever you say, sergeant.” That made you laugh, tension from your clothes not fitting melting off of your shoulders as you turned to leave. “Oh wow, so we’re going right now.” Shoko fell into step beside you as you marched down the hall, leaving Satoru to scramble and get his dorm door shut before following after you. “No better time than the present, I want to get an early start with my day… you know I’ve been tiring easier nowadays.” One thing you hadn’t fully been prepared for was the amount of physical changes your body would go through. 

Sure you knew the basics like your stomach would grow, your breasts would get bigger, you would get bloated… but you hadn’t thought about how strenuous the whole thing would be. Though, it made sense when you sat down in Shoko’s bed one night with your laptop. “Oh, so baby pushes all of my organs out of the way…” To which Shoko had made a fake gagging noise. You used it as a way to antagonize Satoru the next morning, watching the man turn a shade of green as you proudly explained why you had been losing your breath. 

“I guess that’s true… it’s almost nine in the morning so I assume Yaga will be in his office.” Satoru sighed as he walked just a step behind you, pulling out his flip phone to file through a few news articles as you three walked. “Good, that means he’ll already be sitting when he gets the shock of his life.” Shoko sighed, pocketing her lighter and unlit cigarette as the three of you left the dorm buildings and began walking through the courtyard towards Yaga’s office. “I mean, I don’t really think it's that big of a deal.” You shrugged, waddling slightly as you moved. 

“You’re carrying the black sheep’s baby, of course it's a big deal.” 

You glared at Satoru as he finally had enough space to walk beside you. “I don’t mean it in a bad way, it’s just… a lot has happened. The man already beats himself up over the whole thing and now one of his students who he has been trying to watch so diligently… has hid the fact that she’s like five months pregnant. That's even more of a mindfuck.” That made you stop walking for a second, your nonchalant attitude towards it all seemed pretty selfish now that you had heard what Satoru said. “I…shit…I didn’t think about it like that.” 

“Hey, it’s not your fault, you’ve had like three whole months to cope with this and sort things out. It's normal for you  now, sometimes it’s hard to see it from new perspectives once you’ve gotten so used to it.” Shoko had listened intently, eyes shifting between you and Satoru. “You’re awfully philosophical this morning, Satoru.” The white haired man immediately pushed his glasses further up his nose, cheeks dusting pink as he shrugged. “I dunno, I’ve just had time to think.” She dropped it, focusing her attention back on you as you seemed to inhale deeply. 

“I… I’m still telling him. I’ll be gentle with my delivery but I have to rip off the bandaid.” And with that you were walking past them again, leaving the two to follow behind you as you carried yourself with a new purpose. “Do you want us to go in with you?” Shoko asked softly as the three of you crossed the courtyard and entered the building “No… It's best for it to now be some sort of show.” You knew they’d find a way to listen in on the conversation anyways. “Alright but if we hear screaming or the thud of a grown man passing out, we’re coming in.” Satoru sounded uninterested but you knew him better than to believe his facade. 

“Yeah, got it.” 

With that, you were heading up the steps to the second floor. Yaga’s office was the last door on the left, you couldn't even collect your thoughts enough to practice what you were going to say. At this point, it was better to just let it happen naturally. Your hands smoothed over your covered bump one last time before you stood in front of his doorway “Here goes nothing, little one.” It was still comforting to you to know your baby was always with you. “Principal? Are you in there?” you knocked softly, hoping your voice carried through the thick wood of the door. 

“Y/N? Yes, I’m in here, come in.” You let out a shaky breath, pulling at Satoru’s knit to make sure your bump wasn’t visible at all. You pushed the door open, relishing in the feeling of the cold wood under your fingertips before stepping into his office. “Good morning, principal.” you spoke softly, shutting the door behind you with a soft click. Yaga was sitting at his desk, papers scattered over his desk and a couple resting in one of his hands. “Good morning, Y/N… is something wrong?” You rarely came to his office to speak with him, you knew that much would have his suspicions up within the first seconds. 

“Nothing is wrong…per say.” Your hands clasped behind your back. “But you need to tell me something, don’t you?” he questioned softly, setting the papers in hands down as you began to rock on your feet. It felt as if a swarm of butterflies were fluttering around your lungs, making it almost hard to breathe as you nodded in confirmation.  “Please, come sit.” but your feet wouldn’t move, gluing you to the small space where you were rocking back and forth on your heels. “Please, sir, I’m very antsy so I think it’s best for me to say this while standing.” 

“A-alright, Y/N you’re making me a bit nervous. So please…” He swallowed, hands clasping together on his desk as he looked at you expectantly. “...If it is about Suguru…” and you nodded, eyes downcast on the two chairs before his desk. “Listen, this… I don’t even know how to spit this out so forgive me if it’s harsh.” You cleared your throat, not liking how hoarse it was already sounding. Yaga didn’t answer, instead he nodded his head even though he could tell your focus wasn’t on him. “Suguru and I… we had been dating since our first year here.” 

“Yes, I know that much…” Soft and unsure, he couldn't quite understand where you were taking this conversation. Though he could certainly guess a handful of routes, what alarmed him most was the fact that Satoru and Shoko weren’t by your side. “We… We were very serious about each other, Principal. He always spoke to me about getting married, starting a family…” you looked up at him then, teeth worrying into the side of your cheek as you tried to get the next part out. Yaga’s forehead had creased in worry “Okay… Y/N have you had contact with him since?” 

“I- no, I haven’t heard from him since the letter he left me before he left. No contact sir, that’s not what I’m trying to get at anyways…” You huffed, hands unclasping and reaching up to rub your face as you grew frustrated with yourself. “Principal I… I’ve been hiding something from you for months now and I am no longer able to hide it any longer.” That had him straightening in his chair, eyes narrowing as he waited for you to continue. You took a shaking breath, knowing there were no words that would make this any less jarring for your principal. 

“Principal Yaga I…” carefully you grabbed the hem of Satoru’s knit sweater, pulling it tight so it hugged the swell of your baby bump. “... I’m twenty weeks pregnant with Suguru’s baby.” 

You watched as the man’s narrow gaze turned considerably wide before softening. “Oh…wow.” He cleared his throat, pulling the sunglasses that had been hanging low on his face off all together. You let the knit go slowly, hiding the bump again as your principal reached up to rub his eyes. “Are you… principal are you crying?” you sounded mildly aghast at the sight. “No no I…” but he was. After a moment he set his hands down, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “I’m sorry I'm sure that’s not the best reaction to receive after telling someone you’re…” 

“Yeah it’s… well it’s not as bad as I feared.” you cut him off, laughing a bit because among all the emotions you could sense, anger was not one of them. “I’m sorry you felt the need to hide this from me for… damn nearly five months…” he mulled over the fact that you had said you were twenty weeks into this, well into your second trimester. “I just didn’t know how to go about it sir… only Shoko and Satoru are aware of my… circumstances.” Yaga nodded, muttering a soft “I figured that much.” before sighing heavily. “Suguru has no idea.” he spoke softly, watching you nod with a sad look on your face. “I found out two weeks after he…left.” 

So not only had you been dealing with the defection of your boyfriend -  whom you loved with your entire being - you had also been reeling with the news of your own pregnancy. “I… you’re so young and you’ve already gone through so much.” Yaga spoke more to himself than you, that didn’t stop you from trying to lighten the mood. “A complicated life comes with the job of being a sorcerer. You know that Principal.” You laughed, hands finding their home on top of the swell of your stomach. Seeing you smile eased some of Yaga’s concerns. 

“I suppose… I’m glad you were able to tell me. I… take it you won’t be fitting into your uniform from here on out?” he looked you over, recognizing the clothes to likely be Satoru’s. “Oh yeah, it’s not happening from here on out.” You laughed a bit “If it’s alright with you, I’ll be heading into the city with Satoru and Shoko to get some clothes that fit me… I can look for some clothes reminiscent of our uniform.” you laugh a little more, watching a smile crack on his features. “Or I could see about getting you a uniform altered to fit you as you grow. Either way you’ll need some normal clothing that fits you…” he sighed as you nodded.

“You three be careful, I know you’re all more than capable but… still.” He sighed, voice raising a little bit “If either of them get hurt, I’m blaming you, Satoru.” Behind you, the wooden door flung open. “Hey!” But, realizing he and Shoko had been caught for eavesdropping, Satoru’s cheeks flushed pink. You whirled around, bursting out in laughter as Shoko’s hand covered her own mouth in attempts of hiding her own giggles. “I stand by what I said… Now go, have fun.” He sighed, arms unfolding as he sat forward in his chair to continue mulling over paperwork. 

“Alright, thank you, Principal. I appreciate you for being so understanding.” 

He gave you a warm smile and a soft nod, watching you exit with the other two. Once Yaga’s door was shut with a soft click, once he heard your voices and feet fading down the hall, his smile dropped. “That poor girl…” he wasn’t mad that you were pregnant, nor was he mad that you had hidden it from him. He was more so sad that you had felt the need to hide it, especially regarding your circumstances with Suguru and all. 

Which opened a whole new can of worms, he couldn't quite believe that you would keep such news from Suguru… maybe that’s why he’d noticed Shoko and Satoru always by your side. 

Maybe it wasn’t just to support a dear friend going through heartbreak. Perhaps they felt it too, felt that you were going to slip through their fingers just as Suguru had. 

—

“Are you sure clothes shopping is the task you really want to complete right now?” Shoko puffed out smoke as she talked to you, navigating the busy sidewalks with ease as Satoru led the way. “It needs to be done, I can’t wear Satoru’s clothing forever.” Shoko understood that ideology and all, but you had been ready to blow your brains out this morning over a linen dress shirt not buttoning. At this rate, she was certain just about any clothing not fitting you would get you worked up like the world was ending. “She can borrow my clothes any time.” 

Satoru laughed as he looked back at you, finding it hysterical that even with the sweats tied, you had to keep pulling them up. At this point, they were nearly at your chest, relying solely on your stomach to keep them from falling down. “All due respect, Toru. I look like a fucking clown in these pants… your tops may not be safe from me but I need pants that fit.” Satoru shook his head, an amused smile as he finally found the clothing store you loved. 

“You can help yourself to my shirts and sweaters any time, Y/N. You know that.” You scrunch your nose, shaking your head a bit as you stop in front of a store he had walked right past. “I’ll try this one first.” You could hear Shoko laugh as the automatic doors open for you, Satoru’s feet slapping the pavement as he stomped back to where you were. “Don’t get pissy cause you strolled right by, Toru.” But he only grumbled, falling to the side as Shoko shoved him teasingly. 

You spent the next fifteen minutes browsing the racks, finding things in various sizes that you’d unfortunately have to try on. All the while, Satoru had found his home on a bench in the middle of the bustling store, his legs crossed as he sorted through things on his phone. “I think this one will be cute, but you’ll have to try it on in this size and this size.” Shoko handed you a knit sweater similar to the one you were already wearing, a smile on her face as she spotted something else. “We’ll have to find a proper maternity store.” 

Shoko mumbled as she filled through the racks again for the article of clothing in your size range. “Satoru, go see if they have a baby store around here.” Shoko ordered the man who didn’t move a muscle. “Yeah, no way.” You snickered as you dropped a few more items on his lap. Dutifully, he held them there with one hand while looking at his small phone screen. “I’ll just go ask one of the employees here.” you wandered off after saying that, hearing Shoko scold Satoru for making the pregnant woman go look for help. 

You moved with ease through the busy aisles, walking past the floor to length mirrors as you did so. Just beyond the windows was the busy sidewalks of downtown Tokyo, mid-day sun making it look much later than it was due to the shortening days. You weren’t sure what possessed you to be so observant as you walked the length of the store, really you should have been looking for an associate. But there, across the street, visible between the people passing by, was a person you would recognize anywhere. You felt your heart stop at the sight. 

You questioned it for only a split second, feet frozen in place as you watched two young girls come bouncing out of a cafe with drinks in hand. He smiled at them, a smile you had only been able to see in your dreams, before turning to head down the sidewalk with them in tow. It took you all of two seconds to collect yourself enough to move. Without thinking much beyond the fact that Suguru was across the street from you, you moved as fast as your feet could carry you without breaking out into an all out sprint. 

You couldn’t hear anything beyond the ringing in your ears, had you been able to you would have heard the confused calls of your name from Shoko and Satoru as they watched you run out the door. You couldn't breath as you moved down the sidewalk, eyes laser focusing on the back of Suguru’s head as he moved among the many bobbing heads. Your inability to breathe in that moment stopped you from calling out to him, though you doubt he would have been able to hear you anyways. Still, you pushed through the people flooding the sidewalk, not acknowledging a single disgruntled look as your feet carried you towards him. 

Move. Move faster. Fucking move faster!

You screamed inside of your own mind, ignoring the way your body screamed in protest from the amount of physical movement. For the first time in months, Suguru was in your reach and yet you couldn’t seem to close the distance. It was like some nightmare, no matter how fast you moved, Suguru never seemed to get any closer to you. Yet, you still saw the back of his head, he was still there, you wouldn’t give up until you couldn’t see him anymore. It was creeping up on you with each and every step, the deep rooted heartbreak from his departure. 

For some reason, it felt like you were ripping open a wound that hadn’t even begun to heal yet. Yanking each carefully placed stitch with nothing more than dull fingernails. It came undone easily, blood leaking out in time with the pounding of your heart as Suguru’s head disappeared around the corner of an intersection. A feeble cry of “No!” left your lips, just as labored as your breathing as you reached the end of the sidewalk and looked right in the direction he had turned. But, there was no sight of him anymore, gone from your view once again. 

You felt the steady build in your chest, creeping up your throat as you felt the urge to sob violently where you stood. Yet the tears wouldn’t come, catching somewhere in your throat so you truly felt like there was no air in your lungs. “What the fuck was that?” Satoru’s voice pulled you from your daze, your head turning to see a concerned Shoko and Satoru panting as they caught up to where you now stood. Yet, you couldn’t hold Satoru’s bewildered gaze for long, eyes returning to the street once more. “I…” you started, barely hearing yourself as you spoke. 

“I saw… I saw him. It was him.” you managed to spit out, lips parted as you tried to force air in your lungs. “Him? As in Suguru?” Shoko spoke for Satoru, had you been able to turn your head and meet his gaze you would have seen that he had turned as pale as a sheet of paper. You could only muster a nod, shoulders shaking with the force of your breathing as you tried to ground yourself in reality once again. So many emotions were running rampant through your head that it was turning into a dull buzz where none of them could make their way up to the surface. 

“You’re… positive it was him?” Shoko closed what little distance there was, hand resting on your bicep as if she was afraid you’d take off running again. “P-positive. I’d know him anywhere… The little girls were with him too.” You felt your baby kick, your hand flying up to rest on the swell of your stomach as you were finally grounded by their movement. “Sorry honey… I didn’t mean to scare you.” you spoke downwards, soothing your hand over the knit sweater to comfort the child within your womb. You doubted it would really comfort them, more so it was to comfort you.

You pulled your gaze away from the busy street, head turning to look at Satoru but the man was already taking off in the direction you had claimed to see Suguru go. “S-satoru?” Shoko’s head turned with yours, watching him stalk down the busy sidewalk. “He…” You started, but your voice sounded hollow as Shoko began guiding you back in the direction you had come from. “But… he…” Your head followed Satoru until Shoko had guided you away from the intersection and down the sidewalk. “Leave him be.” Shoko spoke slowly, head trained forward.

“But he… Satoru…” Shoko cut you off with a tug a little harder than the others “Satoru is a big boy, you are pregnant. You are in no condition to be booking it out of a store and into the busy road, did you even bother looking before you crossed the street?” For the first time ever, you could hear anger in Shoko’s words. Your silence was more than enough of an answer for her, a scoff leaving her lips as she pulled you over to a small area cut off from the endless streams of people making their way through the city’s center. “You cannot fucking do that, Y/N.”

But she could tell by the look in your eyes that you were anywhere but this moment in time. 

“You are pregnant. Carrying a baby inside of your body, who is reliant on you and you alone to keep them safe. You almost got hit by a fucking car. Do you even know that? You ran out into that street in front of cars Y/N.” Shoko’s voice wavered, to add to the many firsts that were occurring in these moments, her voice had begun to waver. As if she were scared… in truth she was. She had nearly witnessed you and your unborn baby be killed and yet you were completely oblivious. You caught sight of Suguru and you had left everything behind. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, amidst all the buzzing in your head and ringing in your ears, you were processing the gravity of the situation. Your actions had so blatantly given away your inner thoughts, thoughts you hadn’t intended on letting out. You would, without fail, everytime, follow that man if given the chance. It made your heart ache, the same deep rooted ache that you were certain would never leave you until he was in your arms again. “Satoru…” Shoko spoke softly, your head whipping in the direction Shoko was looking. 

Satoru was making his way back up the sidewalk, face pale and eyes hollow. “I lost him.” he spoke softly, somehow still audible over the roaring of the city. “You saw him?” Shoko questioned, her grip on your bicep lowering to your wrist because she really couldn’t trust you to not run away from her. “Only for a moment, he was getting into a car. The thing was driving off by the time I reached the spot where it had been parked.” Then, finally, knowing he was long gone by now, you could breathe again. The urge to run was gone, leaving you drained. 

“I want to go home.” 

“Yeah, me too.” Satoru uttered softly, arm coming up to rub the back of his neck. He seemed just as disconnected as you felt, leaving Shoko to look between the two of you in concern. “I’ll call for the car.” She pulled out her phone, clicking a number she had on speed dial and waited. Your day had effectively been ruined, leaving you and Satoru in shambles all over again. “We can try this again another day… but you need clothes that fit sooner than later.” Shoko knew she was practically speaking to herself at this point, flipping her phone shut and shoving it in her pocket. 

The three of you stood quietly off to the side, waiting for the car to pull up to the curb and take you home. Your mind was still reeling of course, so many thoughts at once that it had essentially gone blank. But there, amidst the haze of your confusion, one question was burning brightly. “Why didn’t you use infinity?” Your tone was gravelly, eyes meeting Satoru’s dissociated gaze. “...what?” he questioned back as if there was no air in his lungs as he spoke. “Why didn’t you use infinity?” you say it again, a little stronger this time. 

You had no intentions for it to come out accusatory, nor did you mean it to be rude. You were just stupidly unaware at that moment, your brain so clouded that it had reduced you to nothing. “Why didn’t you use your curse technique?” he countered, knowing your own technique would not have been able to stop Suguru from getting out of your grasp. “Why didn’t you look before crossing the street? Why didn’t you run faster?” Satoru spat at you when you didn’t answer, regret dawning in the back of his mind when he saw your eyes brim with tears. 

“That is enough, Satoru.” Shoko interjected before you could even mumble out a feeble response, sniffling harshly as you rubbed your watering eyes. “You are both hurt. There is no god damn point in sitting here asking the other why they didn’t do something because it’s done and over with now.” Shoko’s head was focused on Satoru, glaring at the man harshly as he schooled his features into stoic disinterest. “Better yet, you two were so fucking shell shocked by his sudden appearance that you lost all sense of reason, so there. That’s why infinity wasn’t used.” 

But still, Shoko was staring at Satoru. It angered you a bit, sniffling a little harder as you couldn’t seem to control the watery whimpers that fell from wobbling lips. She should be mad at both of you, and instead she was primarily scolding Satoru and treating you as a frail object. But, given your hopeless and teary eyed gaze, Satoru didn’t blame Shoko for focusing her anger on him. He regretted it almost as soon as he spoke the words out loud, having read your intentions wrong. But he couldn’t swallow his pride and apologize for it just yet, still too overwhelmed. 

You were both saved from her wrath due to the car pulling up to the curb. “We’re going home, and you two are sitting in the back seat.” she tugged you along, reaching for Satoru’s wrist and tugging him too. “We’ll figure out your clothing situation another day.” She grumbled as she pulled the door open for you “for now, just wear Satoru’s clothes… or Suguru’s.” she added the last bit softly, glancing up to see Satoru shoot her a look as he rounded the car to get in on the other side. “Next time, it’ll just be the two of us going out.” 

You only nodded, sinking into the soft back seat of the school’s car and letting Shoko shut the door for you. Satoru settled in beside you, making a point to keep his distance and look out the window as the car began to drive off. You ignored it, not in the right headspace to even tackle what the man’s withdrawn behavior could really mean. You’d just assume he was upset with you until he was ready to talk, because right now all you wanted was your own bed, in your own room, and to sleep until you couldn’t remember why your heart was so heavy in the first place.

—

December 24th, 2007 [1:00pm]

twenty five weeks. 

You were twenty five weeks into your pregnancy which meant you had roughly fourteen weeks left until your baby was born. Still, Suguru had no idea. Over half way through your pregnancy and the father of your baby had no idea you were even pregnant. “It’s christmas eve, little one.” You spoke softly as you sat alone in your dorm room, one of your own sweaters sitting snugly on your body, your pregnant belly was too big to hide at this point. “I can’t believe you’re going to get bigger…” you cooed softly, rubbing your stomach as you sat at your desk. 

You haven't really been speaking to anyone, especially after your near encounter with Suguru back at the end of November. You and Satoru had made up to an extent, but you could still feel a strain on your relationship. That strain was leaking into your relationship with Shoko as well, isolating you from the feeling of comfort the two once brought you. You had ended up sleeping in your own room that night, not responding at first to either of them when they pressed you. “I just need space to think.” you had finally caved late that night when Shoko wouldn’t stop texting. 

You hadn’t returned to either of their beds since, finding comfort in your not so alone solitude. You had your baby with you - in you - you were never truly alone nowadays. For some reason, neither of them pushed you further about the sudden switch of wanting to be alone. In the following weeks of Suguru’s deflection, you couldn’t stand being in your once lively dorm room… despite not being able to drag yourself out of bed most mornings. Now, Satoru and Shoko saw you sparsely, so long as you were on campus, they supposed it was alright to leave you alone. 

It took a few days for the realization to settle in, but your reaction to seeing Suguru again had really done a number on them. “I’ll be out of their hair soon enough…” You murmured to your quiet room, pen scratching the notepad on your desk fervently as you expressed your sorrow.  A faint smile was present on your lips as you wrote down your goodbye note to Shoko, a weight slowly being lifted off of your tired shoulders with each sentence you neatly scribbled down. 

You would be leaving Jujutsu Tech tonight.

And if you could help it, you would never be coming back. 

That was your final decision roughly one week after the whole incident, the guilt of feeling like a burden had been weighing on you since. You would be going to see him tonight, for the first time in four months you would be seeing Suguru… but he would have no idea it was you. It was all planned out, like clockwork really, you had worked through every fine detail of your departure. Your bag was packed and shoved under your bed, a duffle filled with some sentimental clothing items, your personal belongings and things that meant a lot to you. 

Most of your dorm room would be staying behind, just as Suguru had. 

You were - intentionally and not at the very same time - following in his footsteps. Albeit you’d have it a little harder because you had a funny feeling Satoru, Shoko, and Yaga already suspected you were ready to jump ship… they just didn’t know when. You set your pen down for a moment, stretching each finger and flexing your hand to shake out the wariness. You would be leaving soon after the sun had set, while everyone who was still present on campus attended the annual christmas party. You would feign a migraine, something you had been doing quite frequently so it wouldn’t come off too strange when Shoko or Satoru came knocking.

Once you were certain the dorms were empty, you and your baby would be off. Only two pit stops on your way out the door, Shoko’s dorm and Satoru’s dorm, so you could leave them your letters before disappearing into the night.  The first stop after that would be the hotel room you had booked in Shinjuku, you’d place your bag there and get ready. You would be meeting with Suguru at 6pm, under an alias and disguise. You had called his assistant on a pay phone only a few days ago, begging for an appointment on christmas eve with the “mighty healer” taking pity on you, she ran it by Suguru and he agreed. 

The only reason you were doing this under a disguise was because you needed to get your emotions sorted. If you saw him for the first time again in months, face to face with nowhere to run, you were positive you would break down immediately. So, you’d ease into things as best you could. If things worked out, you would only have to live inside a hotel room for less than a week. But if things didn’t work out like you prayed they would, you and your baby would figure it out as you went. You just couldn’t bear the weight of your guilt any longer, you felt as if you were dragging everyone down. 

Carefully, your pen was picked up and you began scratching your thoughts. Satoru’s letter has been finished for three days now, sitting neatly in an envelope on your bottom drawer. You were finishing Shoko’s now, front and back of each paper so the letter itself was nearly four pages long. Satoru was shorter, a single page because if you let yourself get carried away, you were certain you would run out of paper before you could finish your thoughts. Your teeth sunk into the flesh of your lower lip, worrying it deeply as you tried to conclude her letter. 

Your pen froze on the paper as you stared at what you had written, for some reason it was hitting you now. Tears were welling in your eyes as you sniffled, trying to blink them away while trying to avoid them landing on the paper and soiling it. “C’mon now… it would be so unfair to her to litter this with my tears.” You pushed the paper away, getting up from your desk to make your way into the bathroom. Splashing cold water on your face seemed like the best solution, bending over the sink as best you could you let the water pool in your hands. 

A couple rounds later you were able to regain your composure, reaching for the towel you kept hanging on the wall and using it to dry your face. You stood in the all too bright lights of your bathroom, looking at your reflection just to find it felt foreign for a moment. Twenty five weeks into your pregnancy, your stomach had certainly popped at this point, making it hard for you to believe it would continue to get bigger. “The human body is fascinating.” you muttered softly, turning to the side so you could see how you looked with your sweater on. “You’ll be difficult to conceal, little one. Though, your daddy won’t know it’s me…” 

You were still going to put effort into trying to hide your pregnancy. That was a part of your plan you truly couldn’t explain, it just didn’t feel right waltzing in there with your pregnant belly on display while he had no idea it was you and his child. “Let’s finish Auntie Shoko’s letter, shall we?” You needed to get through it, you had no time to really delay things further. The sun would be setting in a few hours, the party would start at five, you had four hours total left for your time at Jujutsu Tech. Not a single second of it could be wasted. 

You sat down again, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth as you picked up the pen with shaky hands. You reread everything you had written thus far, all the way up to your half done sentence. You picked it up front here, finishing your thoughts and concluding the letter within twenty minutes. With a labored sigh of relief, you pulled another envelope out of your drawer and folded the letter neatly, slipping it inside and sealing it. Your hand trembled tenfold as you wrote Shoko’s name neatly on the back. “Done… it’s done.” 

December 24th, 2007 [3:30pm]

You had drawn your blinds, got a hot pack ready, set medicine and a glass of water on your nightstand. Now, you laid in near darkness, counting down the seconds until Shoko or Satoru appeared at your door. You had planted the first seed an hour prior, telling Shoko you felt a migraine coming on over text and that you’d have to lay down for a bit to see if it would pass. She had responded with an “okay” and let you know she or Satoru would be checking on you within the hour. If they stayed true to their word, it would be any time now. 

You passed the time by looking out your window, despite the blinds being drawn you could still see slivers of the darkening sky. “Winter is such a melancholic season, little one.” not even evening yet and the sky was changing from blue to orange and finally fading into indigo. “I’m glad you won’t be born in the dead of winter… rather somewhere in early spring.” It was odd to think that the year was nearly through, that Christmas was looming just hours away. This was arguably the least festive Christmas you had ever experienced. 

“Ya know, this isn’t how I thought my first pregnancy would go.” You whisper to your empty room, knowing it didn’t matter how quietly you talked, your baby would hear you. At least, that’s what you liked to think, that one thought always brought you comfort. “I swear mommy is going to fix this, my little love. You will be so cherished and so loved by me and your daddy.” You exhaled slowly, not expecting your own rambling to tug at your chest the way it did. “Soon, soon my little love, soon it will be okay.” You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as you struggled to roll onto your side, placing the hotpack on your head once more. 

It took all of five minutes for footsteps to approach your door, a gentle rasp of fingers hitting the wood and a soft call of your name. “Come in.” You didn’t have to try and sound weak, the frog in your throat aiding you. “Well, this is a depressing Christmas eve… how are you?” You struggled to roll over yet again, squinting as the hall light flooded your room, silhouetting Satoru’s lanky figure. “Not good, I don’t think I’ll be able to go, Satoru.” You could see him shifting from foot to foot. “Do you… want me to stay with you?” and for a moment you had to school your expression from the sheer panic that nearly pulled your features. 

“N-no, god that would be useless. Go enjoy your christmas eve, I have my pain meds and I’ve got some pregnancy safe sleeping meds. I’ll be out like a light within the next hour. Have fun, Satoru.” You urged him, praying he wouldn’t be stubborn. Reluctantly, you heard him sigh. “Are you positive?” You weren’t sure why him giving up so easily made your heart ache. For the sake of your plan, you couldn’t let him stay. But, for some reason, it made your chest heavy that he didn’t put up more of a fight. So different… Why are things so different? “Positive.” You gave him a weak smile, still squinting because of the hall light.

“Alright… well… merry christmas, Y/N. I’ll give everyone your well wishes.” 

“Thank you, Satoru… Merry christmas.” 

You watched him leave, a gentle click of your door shutting flowed by his feet padding down the hallway again. It wasn’t until silence was the only thing ringing in your ears that the choked sobs you had tried to hold off all day came forward. You couldn’t catch your breath with the force of them, clutching your chest as you curled in on your side. Deep, guttural sobs shook your frame until they turned completely silent. In the dark of your room, you gasped for air that would not enter your lungs. Your cries so wheezy and silent that you were certain you would pass out if you could not get a grip and catch your breath. 

It hurts… god it fucking hurts… What went wrong? Where did I go so horribly wrong? Your own thoughts seem to bounce off the cavern of your skull, echoing in your ears as hot tears ruined your pillowcase. You forced yourself into a sitting position despite your body screaming in protest, your baby’s fluttering kicks urging you to relax before you sent them into distress along with you. “I'm sorry…I’m sorry.” You could barely speak, stumbling out of your bed and towards your bathroom, blindly searching for the knob as your vision was clouded with tears. 

All you could think about was cold water, splashing cold water on your face would ground you for a moment. Though, cold water certainly could not cure a breaking heart. Your slowly swelling eyes remained shut as you flicked on the LED lights of your bathroom, blindly walking to your sink and turning the cold water on. It contrasted starkly with the hot tears that had been streaming down your cheeks, filling your nose and making it run. You hated it, every second of it, so utterly hopeless and confused. You never wanted to leave on a bad note, but it didn't seem like something that could be helped. Not now at least… 

You bent down, eyes opening a fraction to see the crystal clear water pool in your cupped hands before overflowing. After a moment, you splashed it up on your face, gasping as it seemed to shock your system out of its haze. You did it again, and again, and again, until the tears stopped and you could breathe without needing to think about it. “There we go… I’m so sorry, little one. Mommy didn’t mean to frighten you like that…” Slowly, your baby’s hyperactivity slowed, relaxing with your calming heart. “I’m still learning… I promise I’ll get the hang of it.” 

“You are pregnant. Carrying a baby inside of your body, who is reliant on you and you alone to keep them safe. You almost got hit by a fucking car.”

Shoko’s words still hung heavy on you from that day. Ever since, you have become all too aware of your baby. Especially since you had begun spending so much time alone, every waking thought was about them and their well being. Even at doctor’s appointments you were certain Shoko only accompanied you so you wouldn’t use it as a chance to run off. “I think it’s almost time for us to go, little one.” You had told your doctor that you didn’t want to know the gender, as much as it killed you to wait. You wanted Suguru present when it was revealed. 

With a heavy sigh you  grabbed a towel, drying your face and tossing it in the hamper to never be washed. Your mind was still filled with ten million and one thoughts, but you needed to try and stay level headed if you wanted to get off of campus without being spotted. You gave your bathroom one last glance over, three years this room had been your home. After tonight, you would likely never see it again. With a small amount of hesitation, you flicked off the lights and shut the door. Now you were faced with every step that needed to be taken to pull this all off. 

The first step was to lock your door, you couldn’t bring yourself to breathe until you did so. Crossing the short distance, you held the knob title and turned the lock until it clicked. That pulled a fraction of the stress off of your shoulders, allowing you to move a little more freely about your bedroom as you got yourself ready. You weren’t particularly in a rush, though the racing of your heart certainly made you feel like you should be. It took you about twenty minutes to sort through the contents of your bag before throwing a few more things inside of it. 

By now the sun had set, 4:00pm was staring at you in big red letters on your nightstand. 

I’ve got time. You spoke to yourself, shuffling over to your desk to pull the bottom drawer open. You had been strategic, burning and disposing of any information you had kept hidden in there. Not that there was truly anything worthwhile, you just felt a bit paranoid leaving it behind. Now, all that was left were the two letters you’d be placing in their dorm rooms. This was how you’d make sure they had actually left for the party. You had plenty of excuses made up in the event they were still inside their respective dorm rooms. “Alright little one, let’s go.” 

You carefully placed the letters inside of your coat, shielding them from unwanted eyes in the event things turned for the worse. You tried to move with no real direction, if you seemed intent on getting somewhere, it would easily give you away. At least that’s what you figured while unlocking your door and heading out into the quiet hallway. Squinting, playing the part of someone who had a raging migraine, you shuffled down the hall towards Shoko’s bedroom. Your sock covered feet seemed to echo with each soft tap, your body carrying you down the halls you had considered your one and only home for nearly three years. 

“Shoko?” you knocked on her door, speaking loud enough that if anyone was in there, they’d hear you. After a moment of no answer, you grabbed the knob and pushed it open. Shoko’s room was dark, all lights off save for the festive holiday lights she had strung up around the perimeter of her dorm room. It’s really been that long… I had no idea she even did this… the weight of that realization made it hard to breathe again, chest tight as you made your way forward while tugging the envelope with her name on it out of your coat. Her room once felt so safe to you, so homey and secure… Now it felt as if you were walking into a stranger’s dorm. 

It was astonishing how quickly relationships could change over one “small” event in time. 

Your heart was still pounding in your chest as you dropped the note on her desk. You didn’t want to waste another second, turning on your heels and shutting the door as if you had never been in there to begin with. Next was Satoru, his room just a little ways down the hall. Your feet seemed to move slower than before, one hand resting on the swell of your stomach as you waddled to the door you had opened and shut so many times over the years you’d never be able to keep count. You could feel it again, the frog forming in your throat as you held your hand up. 

But you stopped mid-way to the door, you never knocked before entering Satoru’s dorm room. That would immediately raise suspicions if he still happened to be inside. So, one last time, for old time sake, you pushed into his unlocked dorm room and heaved a heavy sigh as you were greeted with nothing in return. Satoru had left his desk lamp on, leaving the room in a golden glow despite nobody being inside. You couldn’t understand why you felt disappointed about the fact that he wasn’t there. Just as you couldn’t describe the heaviness in your chest when he didn’t put up a fight only a little while ago. Such stupid emotions… stupid stupid stupid. 

You shut his door behind you as you entered his dorm for what would be the very last time. It seemed to suck the air from your lungs as you stepped further into the room you had once been so familiar with. Only a few weeks had passed and yet you felt as if an eternity had expanded across the short period of time. It almost felt foreign as you stepped towards the bed you had spent so many nights in, eyes roaming over his disheveled covers from his hazardous bed making skills. You pulled the letter out of your coat, laughing a bit as you realized your stupid mistake, not that it mattered now. You’d be out the door in less than ten minutes. 

You left the envelope neatly on his pillow, holding back tears as you turned away and walked out of the room all together. There was no point in reminiscing, no point in wishing for things to return to how they once were, you needed to do what you deemed best for yourself and your child. That meant being with your baby’s father, that meant doing what you could to rebuild the things Suguru had destroyed. For some reason, that seemed easier than staying at Jujutsu Tech. You pulled Satoru’s door shut, adrenaline flooded your veins as you processed the fact that all you had left to do now was grab your few things and leave. 

You moved down the hall quickly, feet carrying you faster than they had in a long while. Every step you took, out in the open, felt like you were begging for someone to accidentally stumble upon you. You could heave a sigh of relief as your dorm door was in sight once again. You pushed into your dorm room again, throat feeling dry as you grabbed the duffle bag off of your bed and slung it over your shoulder. You looked around one last time, pregnancy hormones making you suddenly sentimental over everything you’d be leaving behind. They are nothing more than inanimate belongings, get a hold on reality. You scolded yourself as your eyes welled with tears, you’d have plenty of time in the future to gain new sentiment over such trivial things. 

Right now, you need to get out. He was waiting for you, unknowingly Suguru was waiting for you. You’d be damned if you gave up the opportunity now. With a heavy heart, you crossed the distance one last time and turned off the lights of your dorm before stepping into the hall. With a click that felt almost deafening, it was time for you to make your way out of the dorm building without gaining any unwanted attention. You placed everything on your fellow classmates being at that damned christmas party, you just prayed it was a safe bet to make. You moved equally as fast as you had moments prior, feet carrying you and your child down the wooden halls you could no longer call your home. Each step seemed to creak loudly as it bounced off empty walls. 

Your feet hit the landing of the first floor and you felt like they’d give out beneath you, Everything was too silent, though you supposed that should be a good thing for your sake. It made you feel uneasy regardless, every fiber of your being seemed to come alive with each step you took. The air in your lungs seemed to be frozen as your hands met the cool metal of the back door, one push and your fate would be sealed. For the first time that day, you didn’t second guess a single action you made, pushing it open to be greeted with a gush of cold air. 

Freedom.

Had you not been so heavily pregnant, you would have taken off in an all out sprint. You didn’t realize how badly you ached to do so until the ability was taken from you. Instead, you moved as fast as your feet would allow you to, hand resting on your stomach to try and minimize the amount of bouncing the action was causing you. You would be off campus within seconds, out into the real world and on the subway before you could process it. It seemed as if the universe put wind on your sail again, the only thing thundering in your ears was the sound of your own racing heart. It was within your reach, so close you could taste it, the happiness you so desperately longed to feel again, it was coming back. 

“Y/N?” 

You stopped short, the air leaving your lungs just as it had left your metaphorical sail. You turned slowly, bracing yourself for who you’d see calling your name. Much to your surprise, it was the last person you had expected to see. “...Nanami?” The blonde was looking you over with creased brows, nodding a bit as you stated the obvious. “Yeah, it’s me uh…wow.” he commented softly, taking a timid step towards you. “I came for the party though I didn’t really want to… I see you’ve got a lot going on.” He cleared his throat, it dawned on you in that moment that he had no idea you were pregnant until this very second. “I-yeah. You could put it like that.” 

“It’s Suguru’s, isn’t it?” he questioned softly, finally dragging his eyes from the swell of your stomach and up to your face. “It is, he just doesn’t know it yet.” Yet. Nanami wasn’t stupid, seeing the duffle bag slung over your shoulder he knew you were leaving. “I take it that’s where you’re heading now?” his voice was achingly quiet, though he had never been one to talk loudly. “It… yeah it is. I…umm… Nanami, they don’t know I’m leaving.” You started, your throat feeling dry as you tried to figure out how to proceed. “You’re not coming back.” he stated it more than questioned. Carefully, you nodded. “I’m not coming back.” you repeated with a sad smile. 

“I understand. Trust me, if anyone is to understand where you’re coming from with that logic, it’s me.” You felt the tension melting from your shoulders “Nanami, promise me you won’t say a word… I left them letters I just… I can’t have them stopping me now. Not when my mind is made up.” The blonde nodded slowly, eyes roaming over your body and back to your baby bump. “You have to do what you think is best for you and your baby. If leaving this all behind, if going to Suguru is what you deem best, then nobody has the right to disagree with you.” He stated it matter-of-factly to you, arms crossing as a gentle smile crossed his face. 

“Take care of yourself, and your baby, Y/N. Tell Suguru I said hello, and I promise your secret is safe with me.” As quickly as it started, it seemed to stop. Nanami had always been a man of purpose. “I will… thank you, from the bottom of my heart, thank you, Nanami.” The blonde nodded, still smiling a bit as he turned away from you. “This never happened, I’m sure you’re on a tight schedule.” But his tone was lighter for once, making you smile a bit as you uttered out a soft “yeah… see you later, Nanami.” You took off again, feet carrying you down the dirt paths with ease. Unknowingly to you, Nanami was watching you go, not moving from his spot until you had disappeared from his sight. He sighed deeply before finally moving the other way. 

 “I hope you find your peace, Y/N.” 

December 24th, 2007 [4:45pm] 

You held onto the iron pole of the subway cart as it barreled down the tracks. Standing where you were now, surrounded by people heading home to spend the holidays with their families, fluorescent lights nearly blinding, you felt unreal. As if this was all a figment of your imagination and you’d wake up in your bed, in your dorm room, hopelessly alone again. It hadn’t been until you arrived at the station that you realized just how suffocated you had felt at Jujutsu Tech. Satoru and Shoko had been so strict in hopes of keeping you from flying the nest, instead it had the polar opposite effect. I guess I should thank them. 

You didn’t hold any malice towards the two, but it did sting when you thought of how quickly they changed. You could, arguably, understand where they were coming from. By no means were claiming innocence to anything that had gone down between the three of you. It was crazy to you how less than forty five minutes of freedom was already giving you a level head and better perspective. Though you doubted you’d be able to cling onto sanity for much longer, with each minute that ticked by you were closer to seeing Suguru. That alone made your heart swell. 

Based on the lights above your head, you’d be at Shinjuku Station in less than three minutes. From there it would be taking a taxi to the hotel you had booked a room at. Then, so long as check-in went smoothly, you’d be in your room and getting ready before 5:30. You knew Suguru’s religious group was a fifteen minute walk from your hotel, but a taxi would get you there in five. Either way, you’d get there by 6pm, you didn’t care how. Your heart was thumping erratically, you knew you’d need to disconnect your phone once you got off the train. 

You prayed with each passing second that you wouldn’t feel it buzz, that nobody would ring your line because truthfully you didn’t think you’d be able to handle knowing they knew. You’d rather be selfishly, blissfully unaware of when their worlds came crashing down for a second time. You would need to destroy your phone once you arrived at the station, you could worry about buying a new one after the holidays had passed. Truthfully, there was no reason for you to remain in contact with anyone anymore, what was done was done and that was simply it. It did make your heart ache though, but you were a big girl, you made the bed and you now had to sleep in it. 

The subway cart came to a halt, sending you forward a bit as your clammy hand gripped the pole a little harder. An automated voice came over the speaker to announce that you had arrived at Shinjuku station. With that, the doors were sliding open, crowds of people moving to exit the train just as people flooded to enter it. Luckily for you, people could see your state, knowing you were pregnant, many moved out of the way just a bit to accommodate you as you walked by. You had ended up standing the whole train ride despite many offering you their seats. You had assured them you were fine, antsy even and it would help your nerves to stand. 

Your feet felt as heavy as led as you carried yourself through the brightly lit station towards the escalators that would carry you back up to street level. With your phone clutched tightly in your hand, you activated your curse technique. You could feel it now, the metal and glass that made up your flip phone crushed until it resembled nothing more than a flattened soda can. Completely unusable, utterly destroyed. You dropped it in a passing trash can, body feeling significantly lighter now that there was no way for them to directly contact you. Your feet hit the moving platform a second later, carrying you upwards, a step closer to your goal. 

December 24th, 2007 [5:45pm] 

You were early, you couldn’t help it. You had taken as little time as possible once you arrived at your hotel room, throwing together an imperfect disguise. You had managed to successfully hide your pregnancy, a disposable face mask was hiding the lower half of your face. Suguru would recognize your eyes, you knew that, so even though the sun had long ago set, you slotted a pair of sunglasses over your face. Your hair was neatly tucked under a beanie, the hood on your sweatshirt being dragged overtop. You had to wonder if this appearance would raise any suspicions with him, but you had to assume he was used to people being ashamed of wanting to be “healed”. Either way, you prayed he wouldn’t question it. 

Your weight shifted from foot to foot, eyes peering up at the looming and honestly overwhelming building that made up the temple. You had a handful of steps you would need to climb to reach the entrance, which had been part of your desire to get here as soon as you could manage. Climbing up stairs had become your mortal enemy at this point, one flight in and you were wheezing for air. “Bear with me, little one.” You let your hand smooth over your stomach one last time before starting your torturous climb. Each step was shaky, your breath warm on your face as the mask shielded you from the cool air. Still, labored breathing was enough to have faint puffs of your breath turning visible in the air. 

The added layers weren’t helping your cause, either. But you would manage, all because Suguru was just beyond the walls of the temple that loomed before you. For months you had to live with the fact that he was alive and well within miles of you. Just out of your reach, leaving you to pick up the shattered pieces of the life you had so carefully tried to build. You had been angry, sad, depressed and disappointed. You had gone through every stage of grief and then some. But right now, as you ascended these steps, it suddenly didn’t seem to matter anymore. How foolish you could become when blinded by such devoted love. “Are you here to meet with Master Geto?”

You glanced up at the sound of a woman’s voice, recognizing it from when you spoke on the phone a dew days prior. “I-I am.” you huffed out, finally reaching the top of the platform in which the temple rested upon. “You’re quite early, Mast Geto will appreciate this.” She smiled warmly at you but you could tell by the ugly crinkle in her smile lines that it was forced. “I’m glad.” You managed to squeeze out, trying to calm your racing heart as your baby’s kicks fluttered around your stomach. Always so active. You mused to yourself as the woman turned away from you. “He’ll likely be waiting already, he just finished with a client. You’re the last for the year. Quite the honor if I say so myself. You’re very lucky.” Very lucky, huh?

You didn’t have to bother hiding your amused smirk, the face mask providing you all the security you needed as she guided you towards the temple’s entrance. “I hope you don’t mind my appearance.” You started, testing the waters to see how poorly she thought of you based on one glance. “It’s alright, Master Geto understands some of the people that come to him are doing so against their family’s wishes. Anonymity is welcomed in his eyes.” You felt your brow twitch, humming out a “oh good” as the temple doors seemed to open on their own. “Before you meet with him privately, I do have a small handful of rules.” Rules? She took your silence as a go-ahead, holding her clipboard tightly to her chest as her hips swayed with each step. 

“Master Geto asks you to wash your hands before meeting with him. He also requests that you do not touch him unless he reaches out to touch you. Granted the most the man will touch is your hands or shoulders. He will never venture any further.” You assumed that had to do with his newfound hatred for non-sorcerers, anything of the sort was likely considered filth to him. So how peculiar was it that he would go out of his way to heal them. If you could pick his brains apart, you would. You prayed wholeheartedly that you’d be given the chance. All those countless nights, sitting beside Satoru, trying to wrap your head around Suguru and his choices. 

He owed you the deepest, most thought out and intricate explanation he could manage. You still couldn’t fathom why this was the answer to his jumbled thoughts. “You may use this sink to cleanse yourself.” You blinked, head turning to the stainless steel sink fitted right to the wall outside the doors that would lead to Suguru’s quarters. It was brand new, clearly installed within the temple’s construction only a few months prior. You exhaled slowly as you pushed up your sleeves, this was by no means the Suguru you remembered. But you couldn’t let your doubt drag you down yet, you still hadn’t seen him, spoken with him. 

You set the water to cold, scrubbing your hands thoroughly with the soap provided. You swore you could still feel the clammy, dirty metal of the subway pole on your hands despite washing them when you got to the hotel. It only made you scrub harder, anxiety creeping into your neck as the crushing reality began to settle in. Within minutes… no within seconds really, you’d be seeing Suguru again for the first time in nearly five months. “You may use the towels to your right to dry your hands once you are done.” The woman chimed softly behind you, looking down at her clipboard so she could cross off your name – an alias you had given – the last on his list. 

You felt a moment of hesitation as you reached up to turn off the water. As if the anticipation for this moment would feel more overwhelming than seeing him in person again. You found yourself fearing the disappointment that may come with this meeting. It took you a moment, but you pushed forward, grabbing the knob and turning the cold water off. “Alright, Miss.” You grabbed a towel, drying your hands thoroughly before dropping it in the bin beside the sink. “Alright.” You repeated, turning to face her, sight dimmed from the darkened corridor and the shading of your glasses. “If you’ll allow me to check in, Master Geto should be ready for you.” 

Your heart had begun to hammer in your throat, over the roaring in your ears you uttered out a weak “Okay.” As she strolled past you and pushed through the large door, just enough to peak her head and upper half of her body in. A little muffled, but you heard her speak “Master Geto, your last client is here. Are you ready for her?”If he responded, you couldn’t hear it, your own heartbeat pulsing in your ears as she turned to smile at you. 

“Master Geto is ready to see you, please, head in.” 

Here went everything, everything you had thrown away had led to this very moment. You nodded, taking one step forward, then another, until somehow your legs managed to hold out on you and carry you into the large prayer room. The door shut behind you, nearly making your feet falter as you took in the expanse of the room. It was absurdly large, mats rolled up and leaning against the wall, you assumed it was for his worshipers. The room itself was lit primarily by candle light, yet it was still bright enough to make out everything before you. 

A small flight of stairs led to a raised podium, an arm rest screwed into the ground to support Suguru as he lounged. “Welcome.” Your eyes landed on him, his fist pressed into the side of his cheek as he smiled at you. Behind him was a large altar, barren likely due to the temple being closed until the new year after tonight. “Please, dear, come up and sit before me.” His voice, smooth and melodic, just as it had always been. But this time around it carried a level of authority and hospitality that was foreign to you. 

You swore stars were starting to spot your vision, so utterly overwhelmed by his presence that you had to force air into your lungs as you climbed more godforsaken steps. “Thank you for meeting with me, Master Geto.” You choked out, doing a horrible job of hiding your genuine emotions. “Of course, I couldn’t say no after hearing how urgent your needs were. Think of this as a Christmas gift from me to you.” He spoke softly, eyes roaming over your appearance. “So, please, do tell me of your problems. Something horrid seems to be ailing you.” 

You knelt before him, praying it didn’t look awkward as your stomach nearly made it impossible to get into such a position inconspicuously. “I just… I’m not even sure what is ailing me.” You started softly, hand reaching up to adjust your absurd disguise. “I’m desperate, I figured if anyone could help me, it would be you…” For a moment you nearly uttered Suguru, your throat felt dry as you quietly finished “...Master Geto.” You stared at him through the lenses of your sunglasses, wondering how Satoru dealt with wearing the cursed things all the damn time. 

As Suguru’s eyes roamed over you, studying you intently, you felt reality weighing on you once more. Suguru was right there, in front of you, less than two feet. It felt utterly surreal, maybe that's why you felt so disconnected from the moment. Two weeks of pure, agonizing grief over his departure only to be cut off by the realization that you were pregnant with his baby. Sure that didn’t fix your broken heart, at first it had even managed to make it worse. But it kept you busy, and has continued to keep you busy over the course of September, October, November, and now at the end of December. Yet it hadn’t been enough to bring you to your senses. 

“You seem troubled, and I’m so sorry you’ve been having such a difficult time.” he uttered softly, straightening from his lounging position as he let his arm rest to support him instead of having his fist pressed to his cheek. Everything thus far had brought you right to this moment, right back into his arms… almost. You blinked, swallowing nothing at all and nearly choking. For a split second it felt like Suguru was talking directly to you, your Suguru. Not the Geto Suguru who was the new head of the old star vessel religious group. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, hands folded neatly on your lap despite having to strain to reach it. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Master Geto. Please, what are you going to do to aid me?” For a foolish moment, you wondered if maybe there was some invisible curse clinging to your back and weighing you down. “I will do the best I can to heal you, my dear.” You inhaled slowly, nodding as you spoke “Thank you, but may I ask how?” it had slipped past your lips before you could stop it, a genuine question you prayed wouldn't come across as offensive. After all, it’s how you lost Satoru’s trust. “Of course you may, it’s human nature to be curious, my dear.” He started softly, a grin on his face as he moved to sit up fully, no arm rest to keep him balanced. 

“I could preach to you about how there is good and there is evil, how the strong prey on the weak and use it to their advantage. But that is common and dismal knowledge at this point, that is not what you are looking for either.” You nodded, eyes still soaking in every inch that made up the man before you. As much as the sunglasses were annoying you, you appreciate them for allowing you to so shamelessly admire your lover. “You’re tired, aren’t you? You feel as though you are being weighed down.” He questioned you softly, watching you nod as he found a small starting point for your ailments. “Did something happen to you recently?” 

For a moment you swore you felt your heart stop beating in your chest. That question was far too loaded for you to answer, so you cleared your throat a bit, muttering a soft “yes” but not willing to go further. Suguru seemed to understand that, nodding softly. “You, by no means, need to explain yourself to me, my dear. I will do what I can to ease your burdens.” you watched his hands, noticing every little detail as they reached for you. “Are you alright with me taking your hands?” So soft you nearly missed it over the thundering of your heart.

 “Y-you may.” Shakily, you stuck your own hands out, feeling a bit awkward at the clamminess of them. For the first time in months, Suguru’s skin was on yours again. It brought a wave of relief you thought you would never feel again. The warmth of his hands in your own, worn and calloused but somehow perfectly soft and cared for. They encompassed yours, his grip strong but not strong enough to hurt, mindful of you. Tears welled in your eyes, throat constricting in a way that you knew meant tears were going to flow freely before you could stop them. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you, Y/N.” 

—

“Master Geto, there is a potential client on the line and she is very adamant about meeting with you on the 24th of December.” Suguru stopped reading over his paperwork, eyes glancing up at the secretary he had hired only a few weeks back. “That so?” he mused softly, tapping his pen against the polished oak of his desk. “I really didn’t want to take many people that day, considering Mimiko and Nanako…” he started with a hum, pondering it for a moment longer. “Did she say her name, her intentions, anything of interest?” He was far too tempted to flat out say no. 

“She seemed very nervous, she’s said she's not been feeling very good recently and you’ve become her last resort. She can’t keep going on like this.” The secretary repeated your urgent, mildly-overdramatic words. “Sounds dire.” Suguru spoke softly, still mulling over his thoughts. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the words "tell her no.” Instead, after a brief pause “Let her know I’ll be able to meet with her on the 24th of December, 6pm.” The secretary nodded, moving to leave once more but stopping short as Suguru called her name. “She will be the last client for this year, please let any new potential clients know that I will not be able to meet with them until after the new year.” 

She nodded quickly before departing, leaving Suguru alone again as he reached for the paperwork he set down. “What a kind heart you have, papa Geto.” Suguru hadn’t even been able to read the next sentence, laughing softly at Mimiko’s comment. The brunette girl was kicking her feet, coloring intently beside her sister on the plush rug Suguru had put in just for them. “It’s important to help people in need, you know. She seemed like she could really use it.” He smiled fondly at the two sisters, listening to Nanako hum softly as she scribbled onto the page. 

“I guess you’re right.” 

“You guess I’m right?” 

Mimiko nodded, stopping her coloring to look up at Suguru behind his desk. “Yeah, I mean you really don’t need to help anyone. But you choose to do so even when you don’t have to. You have a kind heart, papa Geto.” The small girl repeated her initial statement, smiling softly as Suguru’s expression morphed into one of genuine surprise. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything, watching her small head turn back to the paper she was drawing on, starting to hum along with the tune Nanako had set. Suguru sat there, wondering how a child could think of such things. 

He saw himself as anything but kind-hearted at this point in his life. But still, he didn’t have the heart to say those things, especially not to a six year old. Suguru had barely reached for his paperwork again when your face crossed his mind, making him freeze once more. You had been a constant thought in his mind since the day he left. Not even an hour had gone by where you didn’t consume his thoughts, knocking the air from his lungs and paralyzing him for a moment. He missed you. Fuck he missed you terribly and it was enough to render him utterly immobile at points. 

Slowly, he forced air back in his lungs, your smile leaving a permanent mark engraved in his mind. He didn’t regret anything he did up until this point, well maybe except for one particular thing. He didn’t take you with him the day he left. He knew he loved you too much to force you into this kind of life, he needed it to be a choice you made out of your own free will. Something cheesy about loving someone meant setting them free when the time came had crossed his mind when leaving you that letter. Leaving it on the bed he once called his own, so long as you were in it, it was his. 

But still, the choice to leave it all up to your own free will did nothing to fill the void beside him each night. How desperately he wished you were laying beside him, curled perfectly into his embrace, face snuggled into the crook of his neck. Your natural musk mixing with your perfume, your hair tickling his hands as he held you tight, your chest rising and falling evenly as you slept. He ached to hold you again, finding it hard to fall asleep each night in your absence. But he had made this choice, he had to own it, even if that meant you weren’t a part of his life right now. 

“But he knew, deep down, that it was only temporary; you'd come back to him.”

—

He had been right, of course. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon, as if whatever forces in the universe heard his consistent, unwavering, silent prayer. The moment those doors opened, he knew it was you. From the moment you stepped foot in the prayer room, he could feel you. His soul would never not recognize you, no matter how hard you tried to disguise yourself. He had felt it then, that shaky, stuttering breath as you walked so cautiously into the room. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to not get up and go to you. Based on your appearance, it was clear that you didn’t want to be recognized by him. 

“Welcome.” He started,  praying you wouldn’t hear the tremor in his voice as his heart pounded erratically in his chest. “Please, dear, come up and sit before me.” Carefully, he trained his emotions into neutral ease, watching you shakily make your way towards him. It was you, fuck it was really you. For a moment Suguru was certain he would pass out from the intensity of your presence. How often had he dreamt of you, how often had he silently wondered what you were doing. How often had Nanako and Mimiko listened to him blabber about you with such fondness? Probably too many times to count, bless them. 

Suguru watched you climb up the steps, your voice sending his heart into a death spiral. “Thank you for meeting with me, Master Geto.” There it was. The voice he had longed to hear for months now; your voice had always been so utterly hypnotic to him. “Of course, I couldn’t say no after hearing how urgent your needs were. Think of this as a Christmas gift from me to you.” He had to wonder if he was being transparent, it was impossible to hide the sparkle in his eyes as his whole world sat down before him. “So, please, do tell me of your problems. Something horrid seems to be ailing you.” His brow twitched as he looked you over, worry flooding his veins that you had been over exerting yourself in his absence. 

He noticed you had struggled for a moment, leaving him to ponder further. Were you hurt? Had you gone on a mission recently and injured yourself? “I just… I’m not even sure what is ailing me.” Suguru’s heart ached at the sadness in your tone, you sounded so detached as you continued. “I’m desperate, I figured if anyone could help me, it would be you…” he noticed you hesitate for a moment, as if nearly choking on the wrong words before uttering out “Master Geto.” His family name sounded foreign coming from your mouth, a mouth he couldn't even see under the disposable face mask you adorned. There you were, kneeling before him after months of waiting, and he couldn’t even see your beautiful face. 

Suguru looked you over, eyes soaking in every inch of you despite how covered you were. “You seem troubled, and I’m so sorry you’ve been having such a difficult time.” the words nearly got caught in his throat, coming out so soft that it nearly wasn’t audible. It was almost too genuine, for a brief moment he had forgotten, speaking to you as if nothing had changed at all. He had to wonder if you heard it. All thoughts died before they were even fully formed, the prolonged silence between you being shattered as you spoke “I appreciate the sentiment, Master Geto. Please, what are you going to do to aid me?” You sounded… defeated. 

“I will do the best I can to heal you, my dear.”

But, he could tell you didn’t seem overly satisfied with that answer. “Thank you, but may I ask how?” he couldn’t help the way his lips quirked at your question. “Of course you may, it’s human nature to be curious, my dear.” his smirk turned into something softer, a genuine smile. You hadn’t changed a bit, your blunt curiosity still shining through. “I could preach to you about how there is good and there is evil, how the strong prey on the weak and use it to their advantage. But that is common and dismal knowledge at this point, that is not what you are looking for either.” He watched you nod, aching to know what was going on inside of your head. 

“You’re tired, aren’t you? You feel as though you are being weighed down.” He watched you, brown eyes analyzing your every movement, his heart aching as you nodded. “Did something happen to you recently?” it slipped out, he didn’t want to seem like he was prying even though he was very well aware that the “something” that happened was none other than him. Still, nothing could have prepared him for the ache in his chest as you uttered out a soft, broken “yes.” The urge to soothe you had nearly caused him to lean forward; the need to pull you into a tight, crushing hug to try and soothe your sorrows was becoming too much. 

You deserve none of the emotional turmoil he put you through. 

“You, by no means, need to explain yourself to me, my dear. I will do what I can to ease your burdens.” he breathed out, not knowing how else to soothe you if he couldn't touch you in the ways he desired. So, he dared to ask “Are you alright with me taking your hands?” Suguru couldn’t breathe after asking it, the idea of touching you again after months of being apart was almost too much for him to handle.  “Y-you may.” There, for a brief moment, was the Y/N he fell in love with a few years back, so outgoing but so shy the moment he tried to initiate anything. It made his heart clench, the feeling of nostalgia washing over him in waves as he reached forward. 

Your hands were trembling as he took them in his own. For a moment, Suguru’s shoulders sagged. Your warm skin pressed to his was something he had missed so dearly. No words could describe the relief he felt, your hands wrapping so gingerly around him as his grip tightened. He was afraid you would pull away, being mindful to not squeeze you too tight. Suguru couldn’t quite believe it, every word he had practiced, every speech he had thought of for when this moment arrived. None of it mattered. Not a single word was able to claw its way out of the depths of his mind. Too overwhelmed by the fact that you were before him. 

Before he could stop himself, before the moment became awkward from the long stretch of silence. Suguru uttered the only words that came to mind. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you, Y/N.” 

— 

You blinked, not that he could see it from behind the shades of your sunglasses. Still, you were stunned into silence. Your brain was struggling to catch up, processing the words Suguru had spoken two, three, four times before finally registering. “Wha–” was all you could manage, the syllables dragging out as Suguru chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to unveil your secret before you were ready, Y/N. But no disguise you could wear would be able to conceal you from me. I’d know it was you every single time.” he swallowed, eyes shifting down to your clasped hands as if he was getting shy. “I’ve missed you so terribly… and I know I don’t have any right to say that because this is all my fault but... I’ve missed you.”

Still, you were speechless. 

“Y/N… my sweet girl… Please say something.” Suguru wasn’t going to move until you responded to him, too afraid of overstepping your boundaries. Your mouth opened and closed again, swallowing the lump in your throat as you uttered out a soft “hi.” You couldn’t think of anything else, every thought in your mind was too jumbled to truly form a proper sentence. “Hi.” he repeated back to you, the same level of adoration in his tone that you’ve always known him to have towards you. “Can I take these off?” He was already letting go of one of your hands to reach for your sunglasses as you nodded. Your heart was erratic as his fingers ghosted your temple. 

You felt it then, the tremor in his hands as he gently took the sun glasses off of you. For the first time in four months you were seeing Suguru without any barriers. “There you are.” He smiled, letting go of your other hand so he could gingerly pull the face mask off of you. You couldn’t contain it then, a smile making your lips twitch as your face was fully exposed again. “My beautiful girl.” Suguru breathed out, eyes memorizing every feature like they weren’t already burned into his memory. “My handsome boy.” your words nearly got caught in your throat, eyes watering as Suguru carefully took off your hood and revealed your hair. His smile matched yours, his lips quivering as he struggled to say anything in response. 

So much to say, but you were both in silent awe of each other. 

It dawned on you a second later that Suguru still had no idea you were carrying his baby. 

“Suguru I…” you choked a bit, reaching to hold his hand again just as he reached for yours. “I’ve missed you too, terribly.” He watched you, brows creasing a bit as his face grew solemn. “It was never my intention to hurt you like this, Y/N.” For some reason, you couldn’t muster any of the anger you figured you would feel when seeing Suguru again. “I know it wasn’t” So soft it was barely audible but Suguru clung on to every word. “But it still happened, I still hurt you. I…” he swallowed, holding your hand a little tighter. “My only regret is not taking you with me the night I left. But I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t force you to run away with me after what I did. I don’t regret a single action I’ve made besides that.” 

“I would have left with you, I hope you know that. Wherever you are is where I want to be.” And for a moment you swore you saw tears welling in Suguru’s eyes. “No amount of apologizing will make up for the hell I caused you.” he looked down at your clasped hands before meeting your eyes once more “But I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.” For a moment your heart ached so deeply it nearly scared you, your baby’s fluttering kicks reminded you of the hurtle you still needed to clear. “You don’t have to do that, Suguru. Keeping me by your side is all I could ever ask for… provide for me and…” You stopped, eyes closing for a moment as you breathed out a laugh. “Suguru.” He straightened at your tone change.

“Yes?” You could hear the concern lacing his words, as if you were suddenly going to say “forget it” and get up and go. Instead you steadied yourself “There is something very important you need to be aware of. It’s something I realized only two weeks after you left me and…” you didn’t like how bitter the words left me felt coming off your tongue. You had no reason to harbor any concern over the standing of your relationship, it was evident that neither of you considered yourself broken up from the other. “Go on, I’m listening.” He encouraged you, faced settling  into a look of concern because he wasn’t sure where you were taking this. “Suguru, I wish I could have told you sooner.” You let go of his hands, smiling he held them a little tighter. 

“I’m just standing up, Sugu.” You reassured him, heart fluttering as he gave you a sheepish smile. Suguru lets you go, watching you struggle to stand for only a second before leaping in to help you up. “Did you get hurt trying to come here?” he questioned, something so concerned and innocent that it almost made you laugh. He truly had no idea, you had to pat yourself on the back you supposed. Your disguise had worked out well enough in that sense. “No, no nothing like that, Sugu.” You smiled as you straightened, watching him take a tentative step backwards. “I really wish I could have told you sooner, but it’s better late than never.” Your fingers shook as you reached for the zipper of your oversized hoodie, dragging the cool metal down and shouldering the material off as your pregnant belly was revealed to Suguru’s eyes. 

You watched his face morph from concern to shock. “I’m almost twenty five weeks along, Sugu.” You let the hoodie fall to the floor, leaving you in a long sleeve shirt that was clinging to the swell of your stomach. “You may have left, but you didn’t really leave me alone.” You pulled your eyes away from his face to look down at your bump, hands lovingly caressing it. “I don’t know their gender, I didn’t want to find out unless you were with me.” You didn’t mind his silence, you knew it was likely a very overwhelming piece of information to learn. Suguru didn’t have the ability to speak anymore, instead he opted to close the distance between the two of you. With hesitant curiosity, Suguru’s large warm hands came down to cup your stomach. 

“You’re pregnant.” He uttered the obvious, as if trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming. “You’re pregnant with my baby.” He said again, this time his tone was a little more possessive. You nodded, hands coming down to lay on top of where his hands sat. “Been carrying our baby this whole time, Sugu.” You heard him hum in acknowledgment, eyes full of wonder as your baby kicked. “They’re happy to finally hear their daddy’s voice.” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes as he met your gaze. “I love you, with my whole being I love you.” you could hear it in his voice, nothing put pure love and adoration for you and your unborn child. “I’m so sorry you had to find out after I left…” He added softly, heart aching at the very thought. 

“I had Satoru and Shoko… they didn’t really make up for you not being present, Suguru. But they tried their damn hardest and I’ll forever be grateful for that.” He nodded, thumb gingerly brushing the skin below his hand. “Do they know you’re here?” He questioned you, eyes falling back to your stomach. It was almost too surreal to believe. Not only were you in front of him again, but you were very pregnant with his baby. “I left them letters. They have no idea I’m gone and they likely won’t know for a few more hours. I don’t have any intentions of going back.” You let the words hang in the air, you were certain Suguru wouldn't expect you to turn around and leave once this night was through. That didn’t stop the butterflies swirling in your chest out of anxiety anyways. “I have no intention of letting you go.” 

You couldn’t think in that moment, body pushing up on your tiptoes as if no time had passed at all. Your stomach hindered you a bit, pressing snuggly to Suguru’s front as your hands cupped his cheeks. Suguru caught on, of course, bending down and guiding you to him as your lips met in a soft kiss. You felt it then, the same tears burning your eyes as they shut tightly. Melting into Suguru’s lips felt like home, slowly piecing back the pieces he shattered to make you feel whole again. You could tell he wanted to deepen it, devour you whole in that moment so you’d never go. Instead, he pulled away with flushed cheeks that mirrored your own, pupils blown wide as he observed you. “I love you.” He repeated, looking at your lips as you replied back 

“I love you too.” 

Suguru kissed you again, cupping your face just  as you cupped his, holding you in place and bending down further so you didn’t have to strain so hard to meet him. The tears you had tried to whole back were flowing freely at this point, mixing with the kiss as it turned slightly sloppy. It took you only a minute to pull away again, eyes wet as you gasped for air. “S-sorry the pregnancy hormones they—“ but Suguru hushed you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears as they fell. “You have nothing to apologize for, my sweet girl.” He kissed your forehead, pulling back as he guided you away from the edge of the platform and closer to the barren altar behind him. “There are not enough words in the universe for me to convey how sorry I am for everything I’ve put you through. I’ve said it already, but so long as I am alive, so long as you are willing, I will do everything in my power to make it up to you.” 

“Keep me by your side, Suguru. That is all I ask of you.” You sniffled, tears flowing even faster as you restated your earlier request. Tenderly, Suguru brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed each one softly. “I will do more than that, my love. You will never have to work another day in your life, you will know nothing but love and comfort.” He promised as he flipped your hand over and placed a kiss on the center of your palm. “You, me, Nanako, Mimiko, our baby… our future babies.” He added with a small grin, causing  you to laugh softly through your tears. “The five of us, and whoever else may join us in the future. I will keep you safe, happy, loved.” He promised as he kissed your wrist, feeling your pulse race under his lips. 

You nodded, using your free hands to wipe your face as Suguru’s lips trailed further. You felt a shiver pass through your body as Suguru’s lips made their way up your arm. “I’ve missed you.” he repeated, tone huskier than before as he placed a kiss on your bicep. “So many nights alone…” he placed another kiss but this time it was on your shoulder. “I’ve been dreaming of you…” This time his head was dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling the smell of you and groaning. “I missed you.” he murmured again, lips pressing to the pulse point in your neck as he let himself get wrapped in the scent of you. The scent he had missed so desperately. You felt it then, something you hadn’t felt in months. The bubbling heat pools in your gut, spreading throughout your body as Suguru’s tongue licks up your neck. Arousal. 

“S-Suguru please…” Your hand found its way into his hair, holding him in place as both of his hands wrapped around your waist. “Please what?” he murmured, teeth scraping your neck as he moved his head up towards your jaw. “Please… make me yours again.” He groaned, so low you could feel it vibrate against your jaw as he kissed it slowly. There was a tremor in his hands as he held you tighter, pulling you closer until the swell of your stomach was pressing tightly to his. “You’ve always been mine, my beautiful girl.” He promised you as he moved to kiss your lips again, the kiss was gentle but sloppy, your fingers twitching as you buried them in the fine silks of his robes. You gave in, body melting into his familiar touch as you let his tongue slip past your lips letting him dominate it, just as you always had. 

The feeling of his tongue sliding against your own drew whines from your lips, clinging on to Suguru just a little tighter as he began to guide you. The steps were awkward, drawing a breathy laugh from Suguru as he pulled away from you. “This will be a lot easier.” He assured you before bending down a bit to haul you up into his arms. You couldn’t help but squeal, surprised he was able to pick you up so easily even with the extra weight of your baby. “Suguru!” You cling to him, curious about his intentions as he moves to sit you on top of the bare altar. “Isn’t this a bit…” but he shook his head “don’t worry about it.” He placed you on top of the smooth wooden altar with a grin, making it so you were equal height now. 

“It’s a special Christmas offering.” 

He offered you as your brows were still creased in concern. “Suguru!” You squealed after, face feeling hot as his hands landed on your thighs, squeezing the flesh and making you shiver as his lips found yours yet again. “I’m taking my time with you.” He muttered between quick kisses, lips shiny with your saliva as your breath mingled. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You encouraged him, heart doing backflips at the idea of Suguru having his way with you again. You knew you missed him, of course you knew that, but sex hadn’t even been on your mind lately. Now, in this moment, you realized how badly you ached to be touched again, loved again.

Suguru left out a breathy moan, head falling forward for a moment before looking up to hold your gaze. “Have I mentioned just how badly I’ve missed you?” he teased, watching your lips quirk up as you tried to wiggle closer to him from where you sat on the altar. “I think you may have mentioned it once or twice so far…” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer since you weren’t getting anywhere fast. “But that's enough with the talking, Sugu.” You moved so your lips were ghosting his ear, whispering seductively “Show me how badly you missed me.” He shivered, only fueling your desire as you got a little more bold. “Show me how badly you missed my body.” Suguru’s knees nearly buckled, you were too good to be true. 

Suguru took your request to heart, not wasting another moment by talking. His fingers easily found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head with your assistance. He couldn't help it, taking a small step back just so he could admire how you looked with your stomach swollen, carrying his baby so prettily. You felt your heart beating, chest rising and falling just a little faster than usual as the anticipation in your gut built. The warm amber of his eyes seemed to be swallowed whole by his dilated pupils, throat feeling dry as his eyes trailed up to your breasts. “These swelled up, didn’t they?” He asked in a teasing tone, mouth watering at the sight of your engorged breasts spilling over the top of your bra. “S-suguru.” 

“Well, they have, pretty girl. They’ll be full of milk soon enough, to nurture our little baby.” You couldn’t breathe, the overwhelming need for him to touch you nearly dizzying. “They’ve been so sore.” You offer quietly, looking at him through your lashes just to see his lips part. He seemed utterly entranced, warm hands sneaking around the back of you to find the clip of your bra. “Well, we can’t have that now, can we? Let me make them feel better, my love.” You nodded, feeling no shame or embarrassment as your bare breasts were exposed to his hungry gaze. Suguru had seen you naked so many times over the course of your relationship. Even with the rather extreme changes your body was going through, you still felt gorgeous when he looked at you the way he was now. “So pretty… they look so heavy… let me.” He breathed out carefully. 

You could feel the air getting caught in your lungs as Suguru’s hands gingerly cupped both of your breasts. The noise you made couldn’t be helped, lips wobbling as you whimpered at the sensation. “Oh? Are they more sensitive?” Suguru teased you, shamelessly fondling your breasts just to see you squirm. You nodded, one hand gripping the edge of the altar to balance you while your other hand shot up to grab his wrist. “Please, Sugu, they're really sensitive.” You whined, heat throbbing between your legs as he moved to pinch your nipple. “Even more sensitive than before?” He murmured, eyes focused only on your face as he rolled one of your perked buds slowly. “Y-Yes!” your back arched, forcing your bump to press into Suguru. “That’s good to know, pretty girl.” He squeezed just a little harder, smirking as you cried out. 

“So mean to me…” you wailed, as if nothing had changed at all. Suguru hushed you with a kiss, lips slotting against yours sloppily as he toyed with your breasts. You felt dizzy, completely intoxicated by the feeling of Suguru’s hands on you. You wanted him bad, needing to feel his skin rather than his robes. “Suguru…” you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as you uttered “Take your clothes off, please I don’t want to prolong this part.” He could take as much time with you as he wanted, but you were certain you would lose your mind if you didn’t see and feel his skin. “Whatever my lady wants, my lady gets.” He kissed you again before backing away. You sat on top of the altar, watching intently as Suguru undid the mildly-intricate layers to his robes. 

“C’mere” you murmured as Suguru was left in nothing but a pair of flowing navy colored pants. The material matched the robes, hugging his waist tightly and accentuating how broad he was. You hadn’t forgotten how he looked, but the last time you saw Suguru in person, he had thinned. Now, he was broad, covered in muscles, tanned even in the winter. It was the Suguru you had known before the world had changed his views. He walked towards you, a sense of pride in his steps as he displayed his new physique to you. “My handsome boy.” You murmured again, hands making contact with his soft skin and feeling him release a shuddering breath in response. 

Your touch never got old, every single time it felt like it was the first time you were laying your hands on him. You were mindful of where you put your hands, letting them dance across the plains of his chest before moving to his biceps. Suguru watched your hands move with baited breath, goosebumps erupting in their wake as your fingers moved lower. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that passed through him as your hands left his arms and moved to run along his sides. You were always so unpredictable with your actions, maybe that was why you were so elusive to just about everyone you met. Even when he thought he knew you like the back of his hand, you still managed to catch him by surprise. He could never get enough of it. 

Your hands rested on his waist for a moment, leaning forward to the best of your abilities to place a chaste kiss on his chest. One kiss led to two, then three. Before he could even utter a word, you were littering his chest and neck in soft, sweet kisses. There was no hiding his arousal, even in the loose fitting pants of his daily attire, Suguru’s cock was straining heavily against his briefs. “Y/N…” it sounded awfully similar to a plea, making his cheeks flush pink at the sound. You looked up at him, placing one last kiss on his sternum before moving back. Your hands left his waist, but not before trailing all the way up his sides and slowly sneaking around his neck. “Suguru.” you finally stated once you were pleased with your actions. 

“It’s my job to please you, you know. I don’t deserve any of this.” but you shook your head, hushing him softly. “Suguru, I love you with every fiber of my being. I have missed you for the nearly five months you have been away from me. I am going to shower you in the love I have been holding onto for all this time. Don’t you dare let your guilt taint the way you feel about me giving you my love.” You could tell he was struggling, after a moment of silence he nodded. It was a reluctant nod at that, but you knew it would take time for Suguru to overcome the weight of his guilt for leaving you in the first place. That was a battle for another day. 

What mattered was this moment. “Kiss me, please.” His request was so gentle, you couldn’t say no to him if you wanted to. Arms still wrapped around his neck, you pulled him to you and crashed your lips together once more in a heated kiss. Your body seemed to thrum with desire, every nerve ending sparking with electricity as the anticipation of what was to come built. You craved him like you craved air, so much so that if you were ever to go without him again you were certain you would not survive. Suguru’s hands lost their heistance once more, dull nails dragging up your back and causing you to arch into him. 

You couldn’t pull away, not when one of his hands found their home on the back of your neck. He kept you in place while his other hand snuck around from your back and found its way to your breasts once more. Your lips part easily, a cry ripping from your throat as Suguru’s fingers pinch one of your sensitive buds. He took the opportunity before him once more, tongue dancing around yours as he pulled and massaged the tender flesh of your swollen breasts. You squirmed on top of the altar, feeling your arousal clinging to your underwear as you moved. It only caused you to feel hotter, the deep rooted desire to feel him inside of you once more was becoming too much for you to bear in that moment. 

Your legs spread to accommodate him better, scooting yourself forward so your covered sex was pressing to Suguru’s abdomen. He could feel the heat radiating through your bottoms, making his head spin with the desire to feel your cunt once more. “Fuck I missed you.” He nearly hissed as he pulled away from you with spit covered lips, swollen from where your teeth had been pulling at them. “Show me how bad.” You slurred, eyes lidded as you tried pulling him back to you. Suguru doesn’t hesitate anymore, letting you bend him to your whim. His lips find their home on yours once again, teeth and tongue clashing together as your hands wander his body. 

Suguru’s teeth are sinking into your bottom lip, pulling at the pliant flesh and trying his hardest not to smirk as you whimper at the sting. His hands are mimicking your own, gliding over every ounce of bare skin he can reach, dull nails scraping until he feels you erupt in goosebumps. He pulls away again, leaving your head spinning from the constant changing contact. Before you can even open your mouth and complain, Suguru’s head is burying itself in your neck. He knew your weak points like the back of his hand, teeth scraping against the column of your neck before finding the perfect point to bite down. A shrill moan left your lips, no longer muffled by Suguru’s lips on your own. His canines were creating the perfect amount of pressure, sending your heart into a frenzy as if you were preparing for him to pierce your skin.

Suguru eased up a moment later, his hand slipping down between your bodies to press his fingers against your covered cunt. The sensation sends sparks of arousal through you, making your thighs twitch as he lapped greedily at the teeth indents he left behind. “Mine…” he gasped between licks “all mine.” Your mind blanked the moment his fingers found their way to your nipple again, twisting and pinching the sensitive bud until you felt tears burning your eyes. “Sugu, please!” You tried to jerk away, fingers threading in his silky locks as you tried to create some sort of relief for yourself. Everything was too sensitive, the ache forming so deeply within your body that you were certain you would lose your mind before he made you cum. 

“Please what?” He rasped, sucking at your skin until it bruised. “Fuck me.” You begged, tears pricking your pretty eyes and driving him absolutely wild. “Fuck you?” Suguru smirked, tugging your nipple until those pretty eyes shed the tears you were holding back. “Fuck me… oh fuck please, Suguru.” Your tone turned whiny, higher than usual as desperation won over your pride. You’d get off this altar and beg him on your hands and knees if you had to. Even if it would be a bit of a struggle with your rather round stomach.  “How am I supposed to say no to that?” he soothed you, hands abandoning  your breasts to cup your cheeks. He kissed you again, this time it was softer, with the intent to take his time even if it killed you. 

You felt drunk, chasing his lips even as he pulled away. Shakily, Suguru’s hands moved down your body, holding your hips as his head lowered to trail wet kisses down your neck. You caught on to his intentions as he moved lower, kissing your collarbone before moving to your chest. Suguru’s tongue ran along your sternum, pulling a whimper from you as he placed not one but two loving kisses on your sensitive breasts. “You’re so perfect.” He smiled up at you, lips hovering over the swell of your stomach. “Such a good mama already.” So gentle it nearly made you cry, that sadistic side of him fading quickly with the overwhelming desire to please you took over his original intentions. Months apart didn’t allow for him to tease you in the way he once did. Not now at least. 

“So beautiful.” He added one last time before kissing your stomach. He showered your pregnant tummy in kisses, nose nuzzling you softly as your baby’s fluttering kicks reached him. You felt your face burning up as Suguru moved lower, as if he hadn’t been all over you for the last few years of your life. “I missed this cunt…” he mewled softly as he lowered to his knees before you. “Dreamt of it every time I got lonely…” he huffed out a laugh “which was very often.” His fingers were hooking into the waistband of your pants, eyes meeting yours as if to confirm one last time that this is what you wanted. You nodded, lips parted as quiet gasps shook you. “Take me, Suguru. I’m all yours, always have been.” His eyes fluttered closed, inhaling deeply to try and ground himself before he lost all self restraint he had. “Whatever you want, you’ll get.” 

You lift yourself awkwardly, giving Suguru enough room to pull your pants and underwear off in one easy swoop. You grimaced slightly as your bare skin met the smooth wood of the altar, it still felt rather wrong, but now wasn’t really a time to be questioning your morals. Suguru was shameless as he admired what he had been missing so dearly, not even his wildest fantasies could compare to you. “Fuck.” So soft you barely heard it, but still enough to have your thighs twitching as you spread them further for him. Your hands met the smooth wood behind you, leaning back to get comfortable and push most of your weight on your hands and arms so Suguru could access you better. “May I?” His breath was hot on your inner thigh, nearly panting. “Of course you may, is that even a question, Suguru?” 

“I guess it’s not, but I just want to make sure.” He didn’t give you a moment to respond, lips pressing to the plush of your inner thigh and sucking softly. You felt your lips tremble, eyes nearly tunneling as you focused on the top of his head over your baby bump. Suguru sucked bruises into your skin, inhaling your natural musk as he did so. One hand rested on your thigh, thumb brushing the skin beneath him tenderly as his other hand sank lower. Suguru groaned, vibrating your skin as his own hand brushed over his covered cock. Your heart was beating erratically, waiting not-so patiently for Suguru to do what he really wanted. Which was to devour you whole, but still, ever the patient man, he was taking his time. “Suguru…” you breathed out, hips moving forward just a bit to silently encourage him to cut the teasing. 

He didn’t answer you, nose trailing along your inner thigh as he palmed himself through his pants. He was savoring every second of you being before him again, so much so that he couldn’t help but take his sweet time with this part. Though, his self control could only be stretched so far before he, too, couldn’t take it. Your hands nearly balled into fists as he retracted, a moment later his warm  breath was fanning over your glistening cunt. “Thank you for this blessing.” He offered slowly, dragging each syllable out until you felt its message vibrating the base of your skull. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of torture, Suguru placed an open mouth kiss on your slick folds. One kiss led to two,  three, four, then his tongue was slipping between and running along your slit. You moaned, loud and unashamed as Suguru collected your juices on his tongue. 

One hand was still groping himself, alleviating some of the ache but not nearly enough to satisfy him. His other hand was now squeezing your thigh rather than gingerly rubbing it. He had missed your taste, fuck had he missed your taste over these months apart. Your arousal was sticky, its flavor unique and utterly addicting. He could do this for hours if it meant tasting every drop of your cum. Your head was falling back, your thighs no longer twitching and tense. Rather,  they fell apart with no resistance, leaving your cunt completely at his mercy. Suguru’s tongue was still gliding up and down your slit, stopping at your clit every few passes to flick at it, feeling your muscles jump under his ministrations before moving down towards your entrance. This was just another game of him teasing you until you were making a mess atop the altar without even coming. 

“Suguru…” you choked out, the arousal in your body thrumming with the need to be satisfied not tortured. Maybe he could hear that desperation in your tone, his nose bumping your pulsing clit as he pushed his tongue past your entrance. “Oh fuck.” You mewled, eyes nearly rolling back from the pure sensitivity. You hadn’t realized how reactive pregnancy would make you. Even the slightest of touches had your toes curling. It had always felt good, Suguru’s tongue had always managed to work unspeakable wonders on you. But now? It felt as if everything had been amplified, your lips trembling as the faintest signs of your impending orgasm began creeping up on you. Suguru was mindful of his position, using his nose to his advantage as he began to tongue fuck your cunt. “P-please… oh fuck…” your arms were feeling weak, causing  you to adjust you your elbows in order to not fall flat. 

Suguru’s tongue buried as deep as he could manage, using his nose to nuzzle your clit until your pants had turned to rapid gasps. If he wasn’t so preoccupied, he’d tease you for how sensitive you had become. It seemed every little action he made was causing your hips to jerk, a shrill cry leaving your pretty lips as he toyed with your cunt. Feeling you twitching beneath him, Suguru pulled his tongue  away from your entrance to focus on your clit. His nose could only do so much, after all. You couldn’t take it, the dizzying  feeling of Suguru’s lips wrapping around your aching clit and sucking so harshly your back arched. Pleasure shot straight through you, making your thighs tense as you clenched around nothing. He was going to make you cum in record time at this rate. That realization had you burning up, eyes squeezing shut as you tried not to scream his name for the whole temple to hear. 

Though that didn’t really help you much, loud and unrestrainable cries left your lips amidst a jumble of pleas. Suguru’s name was intertwined into every profanity, begging him to let you cum. Suguru’s hand left your thigh, instead shooting up to dip two fingers between your drenched folds. You sucked him in greedily, your cries only turning shriller as he began roughly massaging your walls. Tears leaked down your cheeks in fat globs as you clenched around him, causing his fingers to stutter their pace in the process. Not that you noticed, your vision was already spotting with stars as your orgasm grew nearer. “S-Suguru fuck… I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum Sugu… please… fuck please let me.” You were drunk off of your own lust, eyes lidded as you pleaded with him in nearly incomprehensible babbles. 

He responded by curling his fingers, digging into your walls just right. His tongue was still flicking over your clit, the varying sensations were making your head spin. “Sugu please…” You cried again, walls clamping around his digits so tightly he struggled to thrust them at all. He moved even faster, how that was possible you didn’t know, but stars were sparkling across your vision as you came hard. That didn’t cause him to slow down, actually it was quite the opposite. Suguru continued to fuck his fingers into you at a rapid pace, moaning wantonly as your slick squelches only turned louder in volume. Your orgasm had reached its peak but it wasn’t slowing, your wails turning into silent gasps as Suguru began to overstimulate you. It wasn’t until he finally pulled his lips away from your cunt that your body relaxed. 

“Good girl… such a good girl.” Suguru murmured, eyes memorizing the sight of two of his fingers disappearing inside of your glistening cunt. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if you wanted to at that moment, arms feeling shaky as you tried to keep yourself propped up. Suguru caught on after another few seconds, pushing up from his kneeling position to stand before you again. You watched him stick the two digits in his mouth, sucking them clean before speaking again. “Don’t tell me you’re already worn out, my love.” He smiled at you, chin and lips covered in your shiny cum. You shook your head slowly, despite clearly wanting to utter a weak “yes”. Suguru’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a sitting position so he could kiss you properly. You let him do as he pleased, just like you always did, letting his lips sloppily cover yours so you could taste your own release. After a minute, he pulled away with reddened cheeks. 

“Fucking you… it…” he stuttered a bit, suddenly turning shy as he tried to figure out how to word his question. “It won’t harm the baby… will it?” You felt your eyes widen, lips twitching into a smile as you shook your head. “Sex while pregnant is actually very safe, Sugu.” You assured him, not at all ashamed in the research you had done on the matter only a few weeks back. “Positive? It won’t harm you or the baby?” He asked for your reassurance despite having his fingers buried in your cunt moments prior. Not that his fingers were anything in comparison to his cock. “I’m positive, no harm can be brought to me or the baby during the act… You’ll just have to be easier on me, Sugu… I’ve gotten a lot more sensitive.” You felt your cheeks heating up, regardless of everything you’d just gone through. “Alright…” he kissed you again, softer, before pulling away.

You watched him with lidded eyes, a ghost of a smile on your swollen lips as Suguru began undoing the waistband of his pants. You were focused on the way his veins seemed to jump out as he undid the buttons, the sight making your jaw clench. Inch by inch, tanned and toned skin was revealed to your hungry gaze. Suguru was trying to hide his excitement as his cock was freed from the confines of his pants. You whined at the sight, even your fantasies did nothing to compare to the real thing. For a moment you nearly groaned about how much you had missed him. You managed to hold it in, not willing to subject yourself to his endless teasing, at least not right now. Right now, what you wanted was “Please… you’re taking way too long, Suguru. I want you so bad…” You were repositioning yourself the way you had been when he went down on you, this time forcing your legs up to rest your feet on the edge of the altar. 

A position that you typically didn’t have to think much about was now causing you some difficulty, but you could push that aside if it meant he’d move a little faster. Suguru stepped out of his bottoms and discarded them off to the side with the rest of your crumbled up clothes. “Old habits die hard, you know. I can’t help but draw things out, my pretty girl.” He closed the distance again, hands resting on your knees and unintentionally alleviating the pressure with his support. “I know, but I want you so bad… I want you inside of me, Sugu.” He was twitching, precum leaking steadily from his irritated looking tip. “Fuck… okay… okay…” one hand left your knee to wrap around the base of his neglected cock. Carefully, he gave himself a few harsh tugs, groaning as mild relief flooded his veins. You wanted to grumble about how you couldn’t see him over the swell of your stomach, especially since he knew how much you enjoyed watching him. 

“May I?” Suguru asked, eyes meeting yours but you tilted your head. “Words, Sugu… I can’t exactly see down there right now…” You held in a giggle as his lips parted before closing again, rosy cheeks deepening as he realized his fatal mistake. “Oh.” laughter was laced with those two words, causing you to smile back. “May I use your cum as lube?” Suguru spoke slowly, smirking at you as your small smile turned into a look of surprise. “I-Oh… fuck.” You choked, the back of your hand pressing to your mouth for a moment before you squeaked out a “yeah.” Suguru moved a second later, guiding the dull head of his cock between your folds and spreading them. You breathed out, low and stuttering as his head passed over your still sensitive clit. He repeated the motions a few times, watching you jump as he’d get caught on your entrance before moving up again. Suguru only stopped once he couldn’t tell what was covering him more, his own pre-cum or your arousal. 

His fist began dragging up his length, spreading it until he felt it was good enough for your comfort. “Lay back… if you can.” Suguru’s tone had turned soft, yet again giving you whiplash from the constantly revolving tones and emotions. You nodded, pushing yourself further up the wooden altar. You weren’t quite sure what Suguru had in mind at that moment, watching you get yourself situated so your whole body was on top of the platform. You leaned back, resting your body weight on your elbows but stopping when you felt your body begin to strain. “Kinda hurts…” you mumbled, cheeks feeling warm as you tried to find a comfortable position with your swollen belly. “I bet it’s too much pressure to be on your hands and knees, right?” His eyes had softened, admiring you with a small smile as he watched you nod. “Would it be easier if you had support under your back?” Your brows creased, contemplating for a moment before nodding. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to try.” Again, you didn’t quite know how Suguru was going to go about helping you with that. But he was walking away from you, over to his discarded silk robes, and you felt your face burning up with the realization as he began to fold them. “These are soft, if I place them under your back it should offer you some comfort.” he grinned as he walked back towards you on the altar, the fine robes folded in a neat pile. “Sugu… what if we get them…” but he shook his head, helping you sit up again so he could place them behind you. “If they get dirty, they can be cleaned. I have a few backups of these, you know.” You shook your head, fighting off your laugh as he motioned for you to try and lay back again. “How is that?” Suguru watched you carefully as you tried to get comfortable. “If it doesn’t help, I can figure something else out.” You had to avert your gaze for a moment, eyes lingering on his leaking cock before meeting his eyes.

“I doubt you’ll be able to think straight for much longer, Suguru.” 

His eyes widened, cheeks flushing red as he was rendered speechless by your comment. “This feels fine, Suguru. Just get up here with me.” You were leaning back on your elbows again, this time to watch him climb up on top of the altar with you, opposed for comfort purposes. “Show me how much you missed me, Sugu.” He couldn’t help himself any longer, moving to climb on top of you as you leaned back completely. It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable position or location you had been fucked in, but it would do. Especially when he was right there in front of you again. Nothing else mattered but him. “Fuck I love you.” he nearly choked as he pressed his lips to yours, hands bracing himself by flattening on either side of your head. Your legs fell open easily, allowing him to press up against you as you locked your ankles behind the small of his back. Your hands found their home on his biceps again, the warmth of your bodies pressing to one another was as dizzing as the kiss. “You good?” he rasped as he pulled back. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You assured him, knowing he was worried about putting any weight on you. “I’m a little sensitive but I’m not fragile, Sugu.” You would say anything at this point if it meant he’d get inside of you quicker. “Please just… tell me if something isn’t right.” You could feel his hips grinding up against you, cock sliding along your cunt but not going further. “I will… fuck I promise I will but Suguru please… I need you inside… so bad…” you whined, losing sense of your own rationality again as he teased you unknowingly. “Okay…okay…” desperation was lacing his own words, one hand moving down to wrap around his shaft and guide his cock to your entrance. “It’s been a while, I’ll try to go slow.” You grumble out some sort of response, too worked up to care as his head pushes between your folds. Suguru feels your breathing stutter as he slips in, your cunt stretching to accommodate him. It didn’t hurt, but you could feel the pressure ebbing its way down to your thighs, inhaling deeply as you tried to relax. 

Suguru was focused, leaning back a little bit so he could watch himself disappear inside of you. “Almost half way, sweet girl.” you whined out an “okay”,  eyes looking past him to the ceiling of the temple above you before moving back down to the top of his head. It felt like you needed to keep making sure this was real, that he was really in front of you, nevermind inside. Your walls were suctioning to him, clenching involuntarily as he finally bottomed out after what felt like an eternity. “There we go… oh fuck…” your face was contorted in pleasure, watching Suguru fall apart from simply entering you was more than you could handle. “Fuck I missed you… I almost forgot how good you feel… shit.” He couldn’t move yet, even though his hips were restless. Suguru was certain if he moved, he would cum then and there. He wasn’t even sure how he had managed to keep it together while entering you, cock twitching so harshly he was certain he would have blown his load half way in. “Suguru…” 

His name was one of the few words you could remember at that point, the most your brain was willing to offer as it melted into a puddle of mush. “I’m right here.” he cooed, leaning down again to press his lips to yours once, twice, three times before showering the rest of your face in chaste reassuring kisses. “You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl. Taking me so well after so many months… you’re so perfect… so fucking perfect.” he breathed, forehead pressing against yours as his body contorted around the swell of your stomach. “Just tell me when I can move, okay?” he had gotten himself together somehow, now all he wanted was to hear you tell him it was okay. You nodded, inhaling deeply before uttering out “okay… you can move… just start slow.” Suguru let out a shuddering breath, kissing you one last time before he drew his hips back halfway. 

Suguru had always relied on harsh, quick snaps of his hips for you, knowing you enjoyed things rather rough. The request to be easy, start slow, be gentle with you, it was a change of pace he hadn't been prepared for. You whined for him, finding pleasure even as he rolled his hips into you to try and find a pace that felt good for him. Your cunt hadn’t changed, still warm and tight, squeezing him to the point it was nearly hard to move. “A-are you okay?” breathless “You’re so tight… it’s not uncomfortable for you, right?” You nodded, face warming as you tried to find the right words. “I-i’m okay it feels really good… just… sensitive…” you moaned as he rolled a little deeper, brushing that one particular spot. You clenched, somehow growing even tighter and causing Suguru to groan loudly. “Y-you’re doing so good, Suguru…” His eyes opened, meeting your gaze to make sure you weren’t just saying it to appease him. 

“I mean it.” you added, lips falling open as another breathy whine left you. Suguru’s hips continued to roll into you at an agonizing pace, sending shivers straight down your spine as molten pleasure settled in your gut. “Y-you can speed up when you’re ready too…” It was your not so subtle way of showing your impatience, earning a low chuckle from Suguru as he rolled his hips at a faster pace. Your whines only grew in pitch, words of encouragement falling from your lips as Suguru worked towards a pace where he’d be able to thrust into you without overwhelming you. “I missed this cunt so bad…” he choked out, eyes lidded and mouth hanging open partially as he let himself get lost in the embrace of your body. “So fucking soft…” he coudln’t get over it, the way your velvety soft walls clung to his cock with each movement. 

It wasn’t until his hips began to snap into you, watching your breasts bounce with each connection of your hips that Suguru realized how close he was to coming. 

“Oh fuck…” he choked, face heating up as his hips stuttered in their pace. “Is something wrong?” you nearly cried out, eyes welling from pleasure as you looked at him. “I-Shit.” he gasped, hips unable to stop their movement. “Gonna… fuck I’m gonna cum.” he got it out finally, head falling foreward because of embarrassment. He hadn’t had this issue since the first time you two slept together, back then it was from pure inexperience. Now, it was because he’d gone too long without you. “O-oh…” you gasped out, back arching near painfully as he passed over that one particular spongy spot again. “...s’okay if you cum…Sugu… I don’t mind… ha…”  You were close again yourself, pregnancy causing you to become more sensitive than you thought possible. You couldn’t recall a time where you had cum without any other stimulation to pair with Suguru thrusting into you. “I-are you sure…” his head lifted, face completely red as he tried to concentrate on not making an absolute fool of himself. 

“J-just because you come it doesn’t mean you have to pull out.” you added weakly, accidentally clenching around him and causing you both to moan in unison. “G-give me your all, Suguru.” Your plea was enough to have him curling into you, head resting on your chest as his hips stuttered into your cunt. You couldn’t decipher what he was saying as he came, the words sounding like nothing more than mumbled nonsense. It was only when your own breathing settled that you realized what he was saying. “Thank you… thank you… thank you…” Over and over, quiet praises, thanking you again and again. Shakily your hand came up to run through his sweaty hair, your other hand resting on his bicep. “I’ve got you…” you added softly as you felt wet tears littering your chest. How odd it felt to see a grown man fall apart in every sense of the word. Suguru relaxed on top of the altar, slowly pulling himself back together as he looked at you. “I love you.” he uttered with pure adoration in his eyes. 

“I love you too.” You whispered back, hand slipping from his hair to his cheek, cupping it. “You’re so pretty, Sugu.” you smiled as his eyes closed again, nuzzling into your palm. “So are you… ya know.” he cleared his throat a bit, hips still buried deep. “I’m…” he laughed a bit. “I’m still hard.” You laughed with him, a bit worn out already “I know, I can feel it.” Your hips wiggled, Suguru watched as your face contorted in pleasure as you pushed him further into that one particular spot that had you seeing stars. “You still need to come, pretty girl.” he was regaining his composure with each passing second. “You’ve already made me come once.” But you knew he was having none of that, five months apart did not equate to one orgasm. “We both need to get off still.” he corrected, watching that pretty smile take over your features as your hands moved to wrap around his neck. “Alright, if you still have the energy…” You teased him softly, pulling him closer to ghost your lips across one another. “Make me yours, again and again.” 

“Always.” he kissed you, softer than any kiss you had shared that night. Slowly he found his rhythm for a second time, hips drawing back and forth into your spent cunt. Everything was hotter, wetter, thanks to Suguru’s release. Every moan was swallowed by his lips, tongues dancing around each other as Suguru’s hand slipped down between your bodies. Even with your pregnant stomach, even with the position you were in, he still managed to sneak his fingers down to your clit, rubbing it harshly until you were nearly yelling. Your body reacted to every touch, your orgasm building again, this time much faster than before. “Oh-oh fuck…” you were babbling again, fingers clawing at Suguru’s arms as your cunt clenched tightly around him. Saliva was smeared across your swollen lips, Suguru broke the kiss just to hear your noises properly. “Come for me… fuck I know you’re close… come for me…” Suguru pleaded with you, hips growing sloppy again from his own sensitivity. You let out another loud cry of his name before spilling all over him, cunt clenching tightly as a warm gush of your own arousal dripped down to the altar below you. That was enough for Suguru, a string of curses flooding his mouth. 

Still sensitive from his first orgasm, Suguru seemed to feed off the aftershocks by spilling into you a second time. You both laid there for a moment, panting heavily in the large, echoing chambers that surrounded you. “Merry Christmas.” You offered weakly, a hint of laughter coating your words as Suguru’s head fell to your chest with a breathless laugh. “Best christmas gifts I could have ever received, ya know.” He looked up at you, cheeks still a bit flushed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I know it’s still a lot to process… but you’ve got a home with me if you’re willing to take it… I know I said I wouldn’t let you go but…” Still hesitant, you smiled softly at him, hand cupping his sweat cheek as you soothed his worries. “My home is with you, Suguru. From now on, where you go, I go.” Suguru’s shoulders visibly sagged in relief, leaning down to kiss your forehead for a second time with his eyes closed. 

“Let’s get cleaned up and go home then, my sweet girl.” 

Despite everything, you found yourself praying once more that this wasn’t just a dream. “Yeah, let’s go home.” You smiled as his eyes opened, watching him straighten and kneel before you. You felt him slip out, making you both groan before his hands were reaching to help you up. “What a mess…” you were quiet as you looked down at the ruined altar top. “It needed to be replaced eventually.” Suguru reassured you, getting down off of the polished wood and assisting you to the best of his abilities. “Do you think you can walk?” you felt your brows creasing at his question, wondering if your legs would be able to support you and your baby if you were to get off of this altar. “I… guess we’ll find out.” But Suguru’s arms were on you in a second, supporting you almost entirely as he helped you get down to the floor. You had to admit your legs did feel jello, shaky and weak as you tried to stand without support. “That won’t do.” Suguru chided, more so mad at himself for not taking it easy on his pregnant girlfriend. 

“It’s okay, just help me get dressed so we can get out of here… I need a shower.” Suguru’s release was starting to drip down your thighs, warming your face as older memories entered your mind. “Yes ma’am.” He grabbed your things one at a time, helping you get your bra on, then your shirt. Next he got his own robes on so he could leave the room to get you a washcloth for the mess he made between your thighs. He returned a minute later with a warm, wet cloth in one hand and a fresh dry one in the other. “My stuff is at a hotel, Suguru. We’ll need to get it before heading home.” While you could survive on Suguru’s clothes for a day or two, you desperately craved the silky maternity pajamas you had bought yourself a while back. “Alright, I’ll have the driver called to pick us up. He’ll bring us to that hotel and I’ll retrieve your things. Then we’ll head home. Nanako and Mimiko are going to be so ecstatic to meet you, sweet girl.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought, the two little girls Suguru had taken in would be waiting for their honorary father to return home. But what about you? “Are you sure? They know I exist?” you questioned as you spread your legs, letting Suguru gingerly clean up the remnants of his release and your own. “I’ve told them all about you, they refer to you as Mama Y/N.” Mama. You blinked, maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making you sensitive, but that brought tears to your eyes. Suguru had never once spoken badly of you in your time apart, going as far as to speak about you so lovingly to these two little girls that they referred to you as mama without even meeting you. There was still so much that needed to be sorted out, so many emotions to pick apart, but for now it was christmas eve. Those things could wait for a day or two, for now all you needed to focus on was you, Suguru, and your baby growing within you. 

December 24th, 2007 [Somewhere around 6:30pm]

“Cheer up, Satoru. It’s christmas eve and you’re moping around.” Shoko pressed his arm, watching his unfocused eyes snap back into reality just to see her. “What?” She sighed, shaking her head as she moved to lean against the wall Satoru had planted himself against. “I feel bad that she isn’t here, too, Satoru. But she said she wasn’t feeling good…” But Satoru shook his head, pushing himself off the wall for the first time that evening. “She’s withdrawing from us, she has been for the last few weeks… ever since…” But he couldn’t say it, for some reason he found himself choking up trying to utter Suguru's name. “Ever since she saw him, I know.” Saying his name wasn’t exactly smart given the people in the room with them. “She’s just… she’s alone on Christmas Eve, Shoko. That’s not fair… we should be with her or she should be with us.”  He began shifting from foot to foot, for the first time that night he felt antsy enough to get off the wall he glued himself to and move. “I agree, Satoru, but she doesn’t feel good…”

“I think she's full of shit, using it as an excuse.” he spat with more venom than necessary, not really directed at you but more so directed at himself. Shoko studied him for a moment, unsure of how to continue considering they were in a room full of close friends. Friends who all felt the absence of three particular people… Haibara, Suguru, and of course, you. It was a much quieter Christmas eve than previous years. So, reluctantly, Shoko pushed off the wall “Let’s get some air, Satoru. I think you could really use it.” Satoru met her gaze, lips parting before closing again and shoving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Without a word, he unpeeled himself from the wall and trailed after Shoko. The two had barely stepped foot into the cold air before Satoru was seething again. “She’s distancing herself from us, Shoko, don’t you realize that?” Shoko was pulling a cigarette and lighter out of her pocket, bringing the cylinder to her lips as she mumbled out “Of course I recognize that, Satoru.” for a moment he bit his tongue, the urge to scream at her for her casual nature was making him feel weak to his own emotions. 

“Then what do we do? We’re going to lose her if we don’t figure this out…” if he hasn’t already. Satoru couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach, the feeling that he had already lost you was weighing him down. He had let Suguru slip through his fingers, and now it seemed he was letting it happen all over again with you. “I have no idea, Satoru. I won’t lie, I’m not as close with her as you are… I mean you guys just seem to have a much deeper bond than friendship…” Shoko corrected when Satoru’s head whipped in her direction. She loved you dearly, and she knew that you loved her right back. But she would be an idiot to deny the fact that you and Satoru seemed to have a bond much deeper than friendship. “I don’t know what you mean–” Satoru choked, lips pressing into a thin line as he nervously pushed his glasses up again. “Don’t lie, Satoru. You know exactly what I mean.” But Satoru was not going to openly admit to his feelings for you right then. “You love her in a different way than me, Satoru. You have since our first year here.” But it seemed Shoko was more than willing to take the opportunity for him. 

“Now isn’t the time…” but he could feel his voice trembling as he spoke, head turning away from her to glance across the courtyard. “Then when is it time, Satoru?” Again, something he didn’t have the answer for, something he probably would never have the answer for. “I…fuck I don’t know okay? But right now definitely isn’t the time.” He looked as if he wanted to jump out of his own skin, Shoko inhaled her smoke deeply before pulling the cig away and letting out in one breath. “Go to her, if you think that is what’s right. But don’t come back at me if she bites your head off for waking her.” Maybe Shoko had a little too much faith in your capabilities to remain strong. Satoru, on the other hand, felt like he was racing against a timer that may have already hit zero. “Alright.” Was all he could push out in that moment, feet moving before his mind could even process it. “But we do need to have this conversation at some point, Satoru!” Shoko called but he was already halfway across the courtyard. “Some Christmas Eve this is.” She huffed, watching the smoke slip past her lips again as she let her head fall back. 

If she could, she would run to you right now and hold you close. But things had grown so complicated, for some reason she couldn’t find the strength to sit down and pull the information out of you. Deep down, even though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew it was only a matter of time before you disappeared just as Suguru had. She couldn’t say she blamed you, had she been in your shoes she would likely do the same. She knew how dear he was to you, how much love you held in your heart for him even after his deflection. Now you were carrying his child. Shoko could come to terms with the fact that her support and her presence was small in comparison to the support and love Suguru would shower on you and your unborn child. Satoru, however, could not swallow that pill and keep it down. He loved you, much more than a friend. Shoko has known that since your first year at Jujutsu Tech, as much as Satoru had been pining, Suguru had beat him to you… and inevitably won your heart. She knew it ate him alive to this very day. 

—

Satoru couldn’t figure out why his hands were trembling as they gripped the railing. Every step he took, every step that carried him up towards your dorm floor had his legs threatening to crumble. He couldn’t shake the doom gripping at his heart, as if he somehow already knew that something was terribly wrong. Still, he pushed forward despite his heart threatening to break out of his ribcage and fling itself out the nearest window. It was quiet as he hit the landing, so quiet it felt empty, as if there was no human life inhabiting the floor. Satoru’s stomach was dropping with each step he took, forcing air into his lungs just to exhale slowly as he approached your dorm’s door. His hand raised, knuckles rapping against the door. “Y/N? You Awake?” 

No answer. 

Satoru’s hand wrapped around the cool metal of the doorknob before twisting and pushing it open. “Y/N?” he took a step inside, surprised to see your desk lamp on. It took Satoru another second to process that you weren’t present in the room. He blinked slowly, eyes traveling over a room that now felt foreign to him. Inch by inch, he noticed that things were missing. Your room feels emptier than usual, and not just because of your absence. “Shit.” He chokes, walking further into your dorm room to assure himself that he wasn’t imagining it. Usually, he’d never invade your space in such a way but Satoru found himself ripping your closet door open and cursing louder when he realized a majority of the hangers were empty. 

He couldn’t see straight, not as he stumbled backwards and out of your room. Satoru’s legs carried him on autopilot, straight down the hall to Shoko’s empty dorm room. He pushed the door open, flicking on the lights and checking her bed to make sure you hadn’t snuck in to it. As expected, it was empty. The door slammed so hard it rattled the frame, but Satoru couldn’t even hear it, not over the roaring of blood in his ears as he stumbled down to his dorm room. He swung the door open so hard it hit the wall and ricocheted back at him, but he was already in the room and out of its path. His eyes were frantic, wide and unnerving as he looked at his empty bed… a note neatly sitting on his pillow, his name written in your scrawling font. 

Bile burned Satoru’s throat, without even picking up the envelope he knew it was a goodbye. 

The bile burning his throat wasn’t going back down, panic ebbed through his veins as he turned on his heels and stumbled into the bathroom. Satoru puked the little contents he had left in his stomach, tears blurring his vision as he tossed his glasses onto the tile floor. It wasn’t until he heaved a third time that his knees gave out on him, hitting the cold tile below him with a sickening thud. He couldn’t see through the tears, a mix of broken sobs and curses falling from his lips as saliva filled his mouth and his stomach squeezed painfully tight. For a minute he thought it would be impossible to pull air into his lungs, maybe the universe would grace him with blacking out. Maybe when he woke up he’d realize this was all a bad dream. 

But the universe wasn’t that kind to Satoru, it probably never would be.

There, on the bathroom floor, the strongest sorcerer was reduced to a crying mess. All because of you, all because of his mistakes, all because of things he had let slip through his fingers. How childish could he be? To mess up so badly the first time that he failed Suguru. The eyes that were supposed to see everything had let his best friend fall with no one to catch him. Now, it was you, right before his very eyes he watched you slowly decay into a shell of your former self. But, again, he ignored the warning signs and you had slipped right through his grasp. He couldn’t process anything else in that moment, fingers gripping the sides of the toilet as he heaved again. 

Satoru wasn’t sure how long he remained a crumpled heap on his bathroom floor, but eventually there was nothing else that could come out of him. In a daze, Satoru pulled himself off the ground, flushing the toilet’s contents, standing to grasp for the faucet’s knobs and pulling until cold water rushed from its opening. The cold water grounded him, forcing air into his too-tight lungs, one after another, until tears were flowing freely down his cheeks again. Was this a panic attack? Is that what it felt like? Like you were drowning on dry land? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he needed to read whatever you left behind in that envelope. 

He needed to have some idea on why you did this, even if he knew why you did this. He turned the water off, silence ringing in his ears as he dried his shaking hands and stumbled into his too cold bedroom. Satoru wiped his eyes, over and over and over until the tears stopped long enough for him to see clearly. Grabbing the envelope, he sat himself down at his desk, letting the lamp’s golden glow illuminate the words he was too scared to read. He stared at it, blinking slowly as he looked over your handwriting. How did he let this happen, not once but twice? That anger from earlier was bubbling in his stomach again, threatening to reduce him to a scared child as he hurled anything left in his stomach. This time he swallowed it down. 

The paper was cold in his hands as he ripped open your neatly put together work. Inside the envelope was one piece of paper. One piece of paper was all you needed to say goodbye. His heart clenched, lips forming into a scowl at the very thought. Maybe he had been a fool all this time, a fool to think he meant anything of significance to you. The urge to rip the single page nearly overtook him, not willing to let you explain yourself and just throw it away. You had thrown everything away, after all. What harm was him ripping up one, useless, pathetic letter? 

He set it down before doing something that irrational, his mind going through a mix of emotions that he could only describe as grief. Mourning someone who wasn’t dead all over again. 

Satoru stared at the letter, heart squeezing so tightly in his chest as he spotted water marks. Water stains where your tears had smudged the ink slightly. Every ounce of anger in his body seemed to vanish the moment he saw them, something so small that delivered such a big message. He inhaled deeply, trying to find some sort of sanity to cling to before picking up the page and reading everything you had written for him. It was you after all, no matter how upset he got, he’d never be able to do any of the things he had contemplated only seconds prior. Shakily, he picked it up, holding it at an angle where he could easily read its contents. 

Satoru, 

I don’t know where to start, so maybe it’s best if I don’t even try. If I were to sit here as I am now, writing down every single thing I ever wanted to say to you I’d run out of paper and time. So, although you deserve far better than this letter, I will try and keep it short and to the point. 

You have done everything for me over these last five months, and there is nothing I can do that will ever amount to something worthy of returning the favor. I will forever be thankful for everything you have done for me. I would not have survived these last few months if it weren’t for you, Toru. 

I don’t want you to blame yourself, because my choice is completely my own. There is nothing you could have done to change my mind. I think we both know that, whether you want to believe it or not. I can’t imagine the pain I’m causing you by doing this… I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness because truly I don’t deserve it and I don’t expect it. 

I cannot go about my pregnancy without Suguru knowing. This is something that is meant to be precious to me, cherishing every minute of my baby growing inside of me… but I haven’t been able to enjoy it. My child deserves a happy mother and their father to be in their life. The only thing you are unable to provide for me, Satoru, is bringing Suguru back to our side. 

I have no choice but to go, for the sake of myself and the sake of my baby, I need him to know. 

This isn’t how I wanted things to happen, you know. I don’t think that needs to be said because of course I didn’t intend on getting pregnant and Suguru losing his mind. I didn’t intend on leaving you or Shoko. I didn’t think I’d ever have to say goodbye to you, Satoru. Nevermind having to say it through a shitty letter. God this is fucking stupid. You deserve so much more than a fucking letter. 

Please, find your happiness, Satoru. I love you. 

Your Y/N

Tears were burning his tired eyes, distorting your words as he tried to read it for a second time. Time seemed to stretch on forever in that one moment, leaving him to feel like a hollow shell of the person he once was. His heart was no longer within his chest, he was sure of it. Half of it had been taken by Suguru when he deflected. Now, the other half was long gone, tucked away in whatever belongings you had taken with you when you left. Nothing but a hole was left in its place, the broken halves of his heart were somewhere far away with the two people who meant more than anything to him. Maybe they’d do him a favor and stitch the halves together again. 

~ END OF PART 2 ~

Thank you so much for reading, I hope I didn't hurt you too much. As always, likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are always welcomed and greatly appreciated... till we meet again in part 3 :) - May 🩵

[1800titz]

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ — ʟᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ/ᴍᴀꜱᴋ ᴋɪɴᴋ

KISS ME | Stalker!Harry x Reader, purge au

You left him with a taste of you lingering between his teeth, after the first time. With his appetite, it’s only fair he comes back for seconds.

★18+

I don't know what possesses me to write a psycho sicko every time the pumpkins start rolling out onto the doorsteps (see Hitchhikerry) but there is simply something in the air, I fear. This is ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ for the KINKTOBER projects.

PLEASE read the warnings, and please put yourself and your comfort first and foremost. Consume only what you’re comfortable consuming. This one is not intended to be read as a love story, and has sensitive topics, dark themes, and *dubious consent.

If you enjoy this, consider checking out my patreon masterlist, constantly being updated, with loads of exclusive content. If you would like to see the other KINKTOBER projects and join the taglist for upcoming projects, do so here.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: dubcon. stalking. sexual assault. coping with sexual assault. under negotiated kink. unsafe sex (no use of condom, no negotiation prior). manipulation. mask kink. leather kink. daddy kink. breeding kink. p-in-v. oral (m to f). general manhandling.

WC: 12.3K

As always, Harry is just a faceclaim.

Spring is bleeding out onto the tarmac. 

Gold and liserian and bluebonnet. Midnight and cherry-red massacre, seeping into the gutter grate with the sky glowing like a peachring. 

Spring is bleeding out onto the tarmac. It’s unstilted, and smells like rust, and kerosene, and Summer feels a hundred miles away. A thousand, like sunrise on the twenty-second, milliseconds seeping like sand through a clogged hourglass. Like someone wedged their sticky fingers in through the top and stuck a piece of gum to the narrowed opening.

The miasma, even days later, when waste management hordes the lily-white cadavers into semi’s and street sweepers come out to pressure wash the asphalt, burns your nose like you’re huffing acid. 

And it feels like God cupping his hands around the continent and squeezing every ugly, brutish thing out. You wonder if the blood seeping between the asphalt slates sticks to the grooves of his palms. His fingerprints, casting massacre into the pitch sky, smudging asterisms together. You’re supposed to feel the holy spirit. 

(Feel it— don’t you feel it?) 

At the back of your tongue, in every empty room, like a nebulous haze of goodwill and unconditional love. When you were a kid, you wondered why feeling God didn’t make your skin itchy. It would, right? If the body of Christ stalled at your nape, looming over your shoulder. You were raised catholic, so it still lingers and sticks to the nook of your periphery like an oilslick, no matter how hard you knuckle at your eyes. 

You wonder if it’s that same holy spirit they’re tasting in the heme when they cough, supine on the sidewalk. If it’s God’s liquid love, righteous across every capillary, with the swing of a sword. A forefinger on a trigger. 

That’s what they say, anyways. Last Tuesday the blonde lady on Fox news said it was always God in our veins on the night of the holy purge— feel God (transubstantiation like a distant, muffled folklore ringing in your ears) cleanse your soul. Fox news always starts to lean on epistemic justification in Spring, and you wonder if people believe God is scrubbing them from the inside with a bathbrush. You wonder if they really even believe in God, anyways, when it’s all just a mangled apparatus for population control. 

(But God wants them to kill the poor people, right?)

Last spring, a man broke into your apartment. 

Charcoal bulk. Tapered obsidian. Wide shoulders, wide arms, wide, herculean thighs, in all black. Slate denim. Battered leather jacket. Those massive hands, coated in pure-nightfall leather. You remember them well, because you thought they resembled the thick, sheepskin gloves your grandfather would wear out in the snow—

Nothing besides black on him, besides the cruel arsenic white of a plastic doll mask stretched over his balaclava. Like those ugly, inexpressive porcelain things you’d find stacked up in antique stores. Your gaze lingered on the delirious scripture across the forehead. Kiss me.

He slunk in while you were in the bathroom. Cracked in your front door. You discovered a crater in the shape of his kneecap, days later, when you replaced the broken locks.

You found him on your couch like a stygian king, thighs split, like he belonged in your tiny living room in all his ominous, leathery heft, and for a second, you just stalled at the threshold with your heart at the base of your throat. Eyes wide. In stagnant impasse with this absurdly nonchalant intruder. Between a beleaguered rock and a hard place. He’d cocked his head at you. Dead silent, and your hindbrain prickled with parity of a slasher film clip— the kind you’d peep over your blanket, folded up to your nose with shaking hands, after bedtime. You weren’t allowed to watch the movie, at the time. But you always remembered that scene where the indifference rolled off the killer in lapping, tidal waves before he’d strike and carve a character open. 

Something scratched at your hindbrain. Some hysterical thread, clinging to the falsehood that this was a rancid illusion. A nightmare, limned in butter-yellow off the lamp on the side table. His dirty boots kicked up on your coffee table. Inkblots in the plastic cut-outs of the eye sockets, glimmering like hungry nightfall. Because it was the purge, sure, but it wasn’t you. 

Never you. It couldn’t happen to you.

Hindsight humbles the untouchable, crooked complex you wore on your shoulders. Your head, with your chin held high, behind the glowing string-lights tucked across your blinds and the bleeding street under your balcony.

(You remember you thought God prickled at your nape that night. May God be with you— that’s what they say.)

(God was cold, and it made your skin itch. Maybe he would have been warm, and kind, and you would’ve felt the goodwill and unconditional love if you didn’t ask so many stupid questions in kidhood during bible camp. If you didn’t bury your bible into the bottom of your nightstand when you realized they were justifying their gnarled agenda with the pages.)

You felt sick—

And he told you he didn’t have any interest in killing you. A purr, muffled by layers of stitched cotton and plastic. No interest in all that. Wouldn’t wanna hurt a pretty thing like you. 

Like a sarky paradox to all the formidable space he was taking up, in all his horrifying gear. 

Kiss me.

An irony to the ichor thumb-smudge across his forehead. An irony, you thought, to God with a bathbrush, and the date, and the time, and the uncomfortable, imperfect squeeze of you into the bracket of wrong-place-wrong-time. In your own apartment.

Aren’t you gonna thank me, he hummed, on his feet now, from across the room. Stalemate. Rotten stasis. Deadlock, at his discretion, with you, shaking like a leaf under the archway. 

For protecting you? That’s what he said. 

(If you weren’t frozen in place with the leftovers you had for dinner curdling in your belly— eye to eye with a facsimile of the reaper— you would have snorted. It was just so absurdly ironic that it nearly made your ribs ache.) 

He was so big, you thought, when his shoulders climbed and his chest swelled, under the animal skin. So rigid. You wondered if he was all bulk like that, under the layers, or if the loose coat, and the gloves, and the daunting mien of a predator just made him seem that much larger. You’re not a small thing, but he made you feel as much. Like a dolly. A maquette— a perfect marionette to toss around between his hands on the perfect night, the perfect date on the calendar. 

Lotta bad men around, tonight.

The floorboard creaked under his weight. One step forward. The carpet bristled under your heel. 

Aren’t you gonna thank me for protecting you? 

(Kiss me.)

You remember how you went along. Easy. Didn’t say no.

And you could chalk it up to survival— pure, self-preservational instinct— and the gunfire looming outside your window. No. You remember the swell of panic, the riptide of adrenaline tearing you into a deluge of auto-pilot. Something seeped into the hairline fracture across the line between saving yourself— and your dignity, your pride. 

(Something ugly, and wrong, and so out of place. So warm in a room so bone-chilling.)

You thought you were broken. The two choices, unequivocally, were always fight or flight. 

(So which synapse misfired, that night, that kicked your gears into neither?)

You remember ugly things from that night. It felt like your ribs were being pried open, and he was picking you apart, pinching some raw and deep to pluck it out between leather fingers, until you were squirming in a pool of your own spilled volition. Like milk knocked over on the counter. Left to rot. Curdle.  

Because it didn’t hurt. He didn’t hurt you. 

And maybe that was worse. Because you were supposed to kick, and fight, and scream, and you— 

Didn’t. 

And maybe at first, it was a form of endurance. Survival sense— shutdown, like a generator on its last limb, preserving its own continuance. Just go along, just survive, just—

It’s easier, you think, in retrospect, to justify that. 

What’s harder is that you remember you thought you were broken because part of you, eventually, didn’t want to kick, or fight, or scream. 

(Go for the eyes— that’s what they say— and where would you go, in those inky craters, under the shadows? Like polynyas brimful of tar. You’d drown.) 

You remember the way he called himself daddy— come sit on Daddy’s cock, tell Daddy how good he feels— and you remember the visceral burgeon of disgust swelling in your belly. 

The way it made you revolted, and shuddery, and white-hot. 

Wanting. Slick. 

Because he’s not your daddy. Wasn’t. Isn’t.

You knew it for what it was. A gross game. Meant to debase your conation. This scary man in his scary mask on this, scary night, in your home, here to take something for himself. A flinder of your rib— a cracked piece of bone, here to tuck it into the inside of his coat. To watch your face crease with the juxtaposing blend of repulsion and want, rolling down your spine like rainwater off a downspout, as your cunt fluttered. 

He fucked you stupid on his cock again, and again, and again, until the sun was scraping at the land with its hot fingers, and the corners of your room were white and blue. Took what he wanted, because he decided he could. 

And that’s the game. The brutal nature of humanity crumbling under the weight of anarchy, and unrestricted autonomy, even if only for a night. Bereft morals. Selfish whims.

(And you took it. Just took it. Didn’t put up a fight, not when terror started lagging behind pleasure.)

He ate your cunt, too, just the way you liked. For hours, with the plastic mask tucked up like the balaclava, to the tip of his nose. The hard edge, and the cotton, pressing into your mons when he rolled your clit with his tongue, pressed the flats of his white teeth against it. You remember that. 

His nice, clean white teeth, and his pink lips. 

He must’ve been a pretty man under all the unnerving guise.

By the time the siren screeched at seven, you were strewn on your sheets like puddy across the sidewalk. All worn, and tired, and malleable, which he seemed to like. Panting, sweaty, tacky. Covered in him. The sticky, pearlescent mimesis, like memorabilia. Your pink underwear dangling out of his pocket like a perverted token to pin up onto his wall like a poster, after. His hard, leather fingerprints, blooming across your soft love handles, where he held your bones in place (but you didn’t need him to— not when you were so willing to placate and assuage and give). The chiaroscuro made your ribs rattle when you breathed deep. 

You stared at the popcorn ceiling when his belt buckle clinked. Slotted himself back together, into unobtainable nightfall against the backdrop of daytime. 

There’s a lot of things that stuck with you from that night. He didn’t hurt you, and your skin stayed sealed, but according to everyone, a part of you maybe-died, or that’s how you should feel, anyway. So, you wondered if that gangrenous part of you was severed off, bleeding out onto the carpet. Between the floorboards, staining the ceiling of the apartment on the floor under yours. A nebula of rust red across plaster.

(You thought it was severed, because at first you didn’t feel it. Anything. Nothing. Numb. Pinpricks across your psyche like your hand when you slept on it the wrong way. Maybe he cut it loose when you weren’t looking— when your lashes fluttered, smogged in the haze of yellow string lights, when your cheek kissed the mattress, and sex.)

You remember a lot of things that make your chest feel tight, like cotton unspooling in the crevices of your lungs, and your head feel waterlogged, and your knees brittle. But you remember he told you, before he left, that he’ll see you next year. 

I’ll see you next year, sweetheart.

Like a portent. It should’ve been. In a way, it felt like a reassurance, and you hate that pulpy part of yourself. 

And what can you do? 

You’re a statistic. 

The label feels wrong. Permanent. Like a bumper sticker stamped onto your forehead with gorilla glue. You’re lucky, they tell you, after. What a close call, when you swallow preventive abortion pills and shiver at your own reflection passing in the mirror. You think, maybe, your guardian angel blinked, somnolence searing at the backs of its eyes. Because, maybe, angels sleep, too. You don’t know. They didn’t teach that in church. 

You go to therapy. The woman in the big, sable chair gives you this look. Crinkled countenance pinched in pity. How pitiful, you’re reminded, and how lucky you are to only be scratched by a freight train. You’re not smattered pulp on the railroad tracks, but in the cruel cosm, you feel like jam dripping down God’s hands. 

You ask her if it’s fucked up that it felt good. 

She tells you it’s not. 

But then, you ask if it’s fucked up that a crackled fragment of you, maybe-sort-of-in-a-way, wouldn’t mind if it happened again.  

That’s a different question. 

Because you’ve been mulling that thought over between your teeth, in the hollow gaps between mortified, pale-faced solaces, I’m sorry’s, I’m-sorry-that-happened-to-you’s. It’s been festering, and feels like a chunk of you rotting under the sun. But maybe, if someone tells you that it’s okay—

If you had to do it over— you put it that way, like emphasizing a crease in a sheet of paper, and she gives you another, long, reticent look this time, instead of a response. 

(Because, maybe, putting it that way makes the insatiable itch in your arteries more relatable. Easier to swallow. Easier to tolerate. Maybe you sound like less of a freak, with the tumult.) 

Guilt for feeling pleasure is, apparently, very common, as indicated by the PDF she emails you that night to look over. Rape Victims and the False Sense of Guilt. 

Rape. The word rape, across the screen, makes you flinch. It’s such a small word in the sea of the text, only four Lilliputian letters. Teeny-tiny. But it feels big. Like a big deal— rape, that’s a big word. It’s razor sharp when it echoes behind your skull. It’s ugly, and it ends on a blunt, hard sound. No elasticity. No give. This unyielding, little word that shatters around you in its hideous, mangled phonetics— is that what happened to you?

You’re lucky. What a close call. I’m sorry that happened to you.

Pleasure is a natural, physical reaction. A bodily reaction. That’s what it says.

You can cope with that. Comprehend that. The rest is— loaded. Like an assault rifle, in spring. You don’t know how to peel the pieces apart. You never learned how to take apart a gun.

You know what a bodily reaction is. 

But nothing explains the chimera you chase after— the fantasy, when you’re plugged around two of your own fingers, weeks, months later, chasing the phantom ache. 

Liking masks is okay, but liking masks is only okay if there’s something preliminary about them. Liking to feel small and scared is okay, but only if there’s a safety net, and safewords, and you trust the other person, and know them like the pores across the back of your hand. A stranger isn’t allowed to make you feel this way. 

But liking this— thinking about this, with your head fuzzy and your skin simmering— is wrong. Bad. 

It’s okay, but you need to heal. Something bad happened to you, and you need to sweep your pieces into the dustpan before you start to put them back together. That’s what you read between the lines. It feels accusatory.

(Only, you don’t think you could mold them into the same form, if you tried. Stick them back into their rifted crevasses, when they’re jagged and misshapen.)

The things you feel are, by all definitions— according to the internet, and everyone around you— wrong. Ugly. Sick. You shouldn’t feel anything but nausea scraping at the back of your throat, pooling briny under your tongue, when you think about that night. About him. That’s what you find in the vats of their eyes when you tell people what happened, the stricken shape of their faces. Like you’re broken. Because you are broken. 

Some part of you has a big indigo bruise stretched across it, smarting something awful. Some part of you is fractured ceramic. 

You’re a statistic. A number. A sliver on a bar graph. It feels like throwing yourself headfirst over a rock face. Into a yawning abyss. You splinter upon contact with the water, but it doesn’t ripple around you. Just lets your dissevered pieces wade and buoy.

You don’t go back to therapy after the third time, and you spend all summer burying your esoteric predilections at the back of the shelf. Let them gather dust, because they’re shattered anyways, and you don’t know how to make any sense of the smashed fragmentations. They’re so jagged, they’ll cut the soft skin on your palms up if you cup them too close.

You move when your lease ends in the summer. Not really by choice, but the decision has the weight of all those ruckled, condolatory looks. Those I’m-sorry-that-happened-to-you’s, like flour-sacks across your shoulders. Your apartment still reeks like him. It’s a phantom musk, whispering along your lungs. Cigarettes, and leather, and tangy sweat (it almost feels like it belongs— not unpleasant, like the brine across Poseidon’s abdomen). It’s uncomfortable. You long for it. You’re imagining it, you know that. 

Your new apartment is clean. It smells like bleach, and it has all different locks, and the promise spills in cobwebs behind your skull. You try not to get tangled in them.

And everything tells you it’s wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong— everything. A churning, gut feeling, when you sign the new lease, when you roll around your sheets in the middle of the night with your hand between your tacky thighs. 

You feel like you’re breaking an unspoken rule. You’re supposed to heal. This isn’t healing.

You consider booking that out-of-country trip in March. Week-long, just to stifle the premonition under the heel of your palm. The omen, that was still dripping heady, clotting the air alongside the stifling sound of the zipper closing its teeth together. Crinkling leather when he buckled his belt.

Your mom gives you a call. Tells you to come out to Maine for the weekend. You shrug the invitation off with your phone cradled between your cheek and your shoulder, and your laundry between your fingers. I’m fine, mom. I’m—

Fine. Cataclysmically. Okay. Bleeding out onto the tarmac with every step, like the incipient springtide. 

You cup a posy of daffodils between your hands with wistfulness speckling across your chest. 

You used to love spring. In kidhood, before the heavy, inordinate burden of purge-nights spanned across your shoulders, spring had the delicacy of a flower. The warmth of sunshine beading across your skin. The naivety of pastels. A callow touch of rose-tint.

You always knew living alone had its risks. In an apartment, no less, flimsy and unsheltered by security shutters and the bulwarks of a standalone. A danger, like a yellow warning sign. It’s the same precarious footing that warrants your mother’s calls back to your hometown every spring. 

(The same reason she called you last year. And you— stupid, stupid— didn’t go.)

You don’t know how to excuse yourself this year. Lack of self-preservation? Stupid, callow hope? You don’t know what you’re hoping for. 

(What you’re feeding.)

Maybe it’s the way you’ve been dusting the shattered shards on the shelf. 

Anybody else in your position would be halfway across the continent, and you’re shutting down your flower shop and turning in for the night. Pretending (that you’re pretending) you’re inviolable, like that headspace didn’t get crushed under his thumb last year. The clock ticks on the wall. 

The man who comes up to the register has a bouquet in his hand. A sprig of carmine carnations that crinkles when he lays it flat onto the countertop. He’s tall. Broad. Pretty— the first thing you think of, upon impression, mapping out the ridges of his face, the even slope of his nose, the burnt umber curl that spills over his forehead. Wordless. He stares at you. 

Just stares. Not quite boring into you, but lingering, inkpools fixed. Indescribably. Unremitting.

There’s a familiarity in his gaze. Something that weaves across you in unspooling, crepuscular cobwebs, something that prickles. And eye-contact feels like a stalemate. A competition; who will give first? Your mettle splinters in hairline fractures. 

“Is this,” your smile is flimsy. Brittle. Eyes dipping to the flowers he’s laid out. “…all for you today?” 

He smells expensive. Like amber musk, but something sticks to his scent like an afterthought. A note, in undertow. 

Smoke.

Like he washed his hands, brushed his teeth, but couldn’t kick the odor off his clothes, lingering in the stitches.  

Emotions dredge up from the pit of your psyche like his presence is the metal head of a shovel. Cold leather. A hot touch. Things you’ve left numb for too long, oozing, electric, alive. Your fingers flex on the stems, and the plastic clicks under your hand when you stare down at it. You can’t look. 

“Mm.”

You feel flayed. Raw. Like you’re going to come apart into tatters in the middle of the store. In front of a customer. You cast your gaze up. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Hands buried in his pockets, eyes listing across the melange of flower assortments you’ve got on display behind the counter. And you feel—

Embarrassed. Silly. Your cheeks heat, your heart thundering at your throat. It’s silly. 

“Oh,” you breathe as you roll the bouquet between your hands. Key in the numerical series to the system, “I like these. They’re very pretty. …Looks like today, it’s going to be… twenty-six.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Nothing at all, doesn’t make any motion towards procuring a payment method, and that nagging sense of worry spirals between your brows when you cast your inkpools up to find him staring again. Under your hands. There’s a judder to them. You watch his hand reach into the front-pocket of his jeans, and cull a cashfold. He licks his fingers before he separates the cash, and hands it to you. 

Your fingers brush. You swallow. 

You hand his change over with your fingers twitching. 

“Happy purge,” he tells you. Suddenly.

Your smile wobbles. Creases. Curls back up into a proxy of a cheery mien you have the resolve to upkeep. “Happy purge.”

His fingertips drum across the counter. “And may our souls be cleansed.”

It sounds droll. Wry. Like he’s making a mockery of every piece of propaganda the news channel paints across your screen, a week-long affair in snippets before commencement. You swallow. 

“Up for anything tonight?”

The question shouldn’t nick between your ribs. Scrape into the soft place— you’ll get loads of customers that ask. That participate, affluent folk. Young people, with grease smeared across their smiles when they tell you that they’re excited to exercise their God-given right. 

You shake your head. “No— no. I don’t… partake.”

The silence that congeals between you is suffocating. Heavy. You feel your poise withering. Shrinking back into you, under the weight of his gaze. It’s an eerie stagnancy, and you feel like you’re sinking to the depths. 

“You’re,” you tell him, trying to smile, but it doesn’t meet your eyes this time, “…all set.”

His eyes roam. Openly. Lash across you in bounds, slow, detail-oriented. It’s odd. Makes you feel strange. Finally, they fix on your face. No doubt, creased with discomfort. 

“Stay safe tonight,” he tells you, before he turns, bouquet in hand. 

“Right. You— stay safe,” you rock forward on your heels. The bell over the door jingles. 

You’re broken, but you’re not stupid. You twist the locks when you get home. Double-check every window. Turn off every light that you aren’t using. 

The announcement comes across the TV when you’re in the shower, and by the time you come out, the emergency broadcast has morphed off into a rerun of Friends. You don’t know what to do with yourself. Tuck your knees to your chest and stare at the clock? Roll into the fetal position and pray? 

May God be with you. 

The gunfire outside begins during the credits. You can’t stomach the harrowing scream that seeps across from the street below, so you plug your ears with your headphones, and you blast music until you feel like your ears are bleeding. Hole up in your bedroom.

You can’t discern the feeling that clots in your chest when you come out to your living room, eventually, to find him on your couch. In eerie stillness. Terror? Relief? 

He notices you. Swells when he breathes, all heft, just like you remember. The burgeon of fear that prickles at your nape, making your hair stand on end, you find, clots beside something you’re unable to dissect. For a long second, the both of you just breathe. Observe. 

He breaks the silence. 

“…Come tell Daddy hello.”

Daddy. Daddy— the titular moniker makes you bristle, startling you out of your stupor like whiplash. What are you doing? What are you doing?

You stall by the bathroom door. This game of cat and mouse is precarious. You’ll lose— that fact is brassbound. Undeniable. You don’t know what you were expecting. Why you stayed. You’ve got the short end of the stick, always. And still, you contemplate, lingering with your hand on the doorknob. The stagnancy in biding your time feels like staring at a snake coiling beside your feet. Waiting for it to lash forward. 

You take a slow step forward. Another. He doesn’t make any moves towards you, doesn’t give any indication that he’s keen to sit up. Content with the view of your dread snowballing. Mushrooming. Hands resting across his lap, his tree-trunk thighs split apart. 

Waiting. Watching. 

You don’t expect it when he sits up, grunting, to wrap his hand across your forearm. Lug you forward, into the alcove between his thighs. The brush of leather across your bare skin makes chills erupt across your skin. Manhandling you, like puddy between his hands. You’re supposed to fight, you’re supposed to kick, you’re supposed to—

Scream. You exhale when he twists you and forces you to sit on his knee. You’re stupid. What you’re chasing isn’t healthy.

You think he’s going to ask why you moved. Silly girl. Didn’t think I’d find you?

He doesn’t. 

“Been a good girl?” he drawls, instead, chest swelling in your periphery. It feels mocking, despite the casualness of his tone— unsanded around the edges. The irony of the position has your teeth set, like you’re a child on Santa’s lap, and not a grown woman on his. A petrifying— 

Half-stranger. Almost.

The revelation is uncanny to the way you’re searing under your skin. And there’s a thin line, you think, between coercion, and the way your heart batters a little faster, the way you clench your fingers together to avoid squeezing your thighs.

You don’t say anything. It’s rhetoric, because he isn't finished. He cups your knee under his palm, the dark leather, and says, “Kept your pussy to yourself, mm?”

Not your hands. Not your hands. 

Your pussy. 

The undiluted vulgarity trickles down your nape, makes you flinch, and you fist your hands a little harder, until the crescents dig into your palms. It’s still just as nonchalant, even-toned. But it’s crude, and it makes your face hot. 

Like he owns that. Like you belong to him, in some way.

(And maybe, in some way, some part of you does. That piece of your rib he still has tucked into his pocket from last spring.)

Your heart is in your throat. You turn your cheek. Away. Just enough, but the hand that was on your knee presses against the side of your face. Two fingers, gloved, that pry your attention back onto him. It’s almost effortless. Feels like he’s using hardly any strength at all, has your chin snapping back, and the weight of two fingers, against that groove under your cheekbone, has an ache radiating up into your temple. He’s feeling the ridges of your teeth through your soft flesh. Wrenching his fingertips into the hollow rift between the two rows, and your breath ebs your lungs in soft pants, free falling the gap between your lips. The slick, gummy inside of your cheek twinges under the pressure.

You stare back, and—

You don’t know what you find. What you’re looking for. There’s a hunger in the plastic cut outs, glimmering in the tenebrose, like a predator shimmering in the distance of the thicket. One that’s spent all winter hibernating.

He digs his fingers in a little harder. Makes your head tilt with an ease that makes your head spin. The sound that leaks out of you is embarrassing. So unlike you. So small, and vulnerable, and raw. 

It reminds you of feeling like you were being carved open, like you were having those pieces pulled out of you. Those fragments that you’ve buried deep behind your ribs, all yours. Delicate chattels between his fingers like a thread that he’ll tug to unspool you to the core.

His thumb grazes the corner of your mouth. Your lower lip. Rests there, all leather. It smells like charred tobacco. Tar. 

“Yes,” you breathe. Appease. The word comes out tangled with a frantic note, an exhale, and sounds garbled off your liquified, molasses-heavy tongue. 

Maintaining eye contact is difficult. Intense. Feels like wading a knee-deep morass with how treacly it makes your head feel, but it’s impossible to look away. With the angle he has your head, you feel snared into an unspoken standoff. Feels like you’re caught in a springe he’s laid out. You, with your rabbiting heart, and your ankle caught in a noose. And him—

Those deep-seated inkpools glimmer from the underbrush. 

“Is that right?”

It’s like a car crash, you think, stuck in limbo. A beatific maelstrom of metal scraping on metal. The beautiful, horrifying view, in the split-second of collision. Time in stasis. Slow motion.

You can’t look away.

He stops pressing to rap the pads against your cheekbone, instead, and the thump that echoes in your skull almost sounds hollow. Loud in your ears. The pang lingers in your jaw, like a dull ache, across your upper teeth, the inside of your cheek. 

There’s a split second there, where that bilious feeling slinks into your stomach and coils up, stretching between your lungs. That sick you find, buried under the galvanized cobwebs spooling your sense of self-preservation, like a haze of little, electric gossamers across your synapses. The incipience of a wave of nausea, softly lapping, at the thought that all of this, everything, is premeditated, and the gnarled root of it all sinks so much deeper than you’d ever expect. 

That he’ll know— knows— that you brought another man home last fall. 

It was stupid. A one off, scraped off a bar stool on a Saturday night after one too many whiskey sours, and the sex wasn’t even any good. You don’t remember it. 

But your head feels syrupy. You don’t know what’s worse: this burgeoning fear that you’ve disappointed him with— what? Free will? Autonomy? 

Or the slick ooze of the bone-juddering revelation that settles; he’s probably been watching you. Keeping tabs. 

(How else did he know where you moved? How to pin you under the pad of his thumb with such startling ease? You’re a thumbtack on a paper map, and a petrified part of you wonders if he’s got it— a chart of your whereabouts, your existence snared into a creased sheet— dangling next to the panties from last spring.)

If he knows about your liaison, he doesn’t indicate it. Opting to, instead, graze the shape of your lips with his thumb again, and push in to scrape the flats of your teeth with the leather. It’s gross. Feels strange— leather against the smooth inside of your lips, and when you breathe around it, you feel like you’re spinning out, headfirst, hurtling toward the ground. Something you don’t want to acknowledge rolls over, white-hot, in the pit of your tummy. 

“That’s good,” he settles on, and palms your breast so abruptly that it makes your lungs squeeze. Your throat clicks when you swallow. 

It feels so mechanical. Calculating. Collected. Nonchalantly purposeful— nothing gradual, no build up— like he’s here to reap and take, intent on what he’s looking for. But it’s all a startling, unnatural paradox, considering you were left so overly-satiated last spring, that you almost felt like a mindless shell of yourself. Entirely sapped. The enigma left your head clogged up and heavy for days. Weeks. Months. Your lashes flutter, dusting unfitting bliss across your cheeks like the speckling heat. Like pleasure is bulky, and rounded, and doesn’t fit into the jagged slot your anticipation has chiseled. 

He squeezes the doughy flesh in his hand, and scuffs your pebbling nipple with a side-swipe of his thumb. Then, the other. Long, thick fingers spanning, and coasting across your diaphragm, climbing your waist, the chiseled, swelling rungs of your ribcage, cupping under one of your tits again. He only stops at the soft sound that crawls out of your windpipe. Eyes flickering at the reedy, wanton whine that gushes through the seal of your teeth. The self-awareness makes you wither into yourself. Shrinking. Ecstasy feels like an agrestal parasite, mushrooming between your nerves. Budding in that slope under your navel.

(Wrong, wrong, wrong— a broken mechanism, misfiring. Grinding. Your eroded mettle squealing under the pressure.)

You can hear him breathing. He sounds like an animal. A panting beast. Feral. Untamed, wild, huffs stifled by ribbed cotton and matte plastic. He notches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and pinches it. Tugs. A gust of your desperate breath escapes through that barren dearth between your teeth when he palms you by the front of your neck and pushes you against the back of the couch. 

It’s sloppy. Clumsy, an awkward angle from where you were on his lap— your limbs flail before you topple, and it requires more core strength on your part than you anticipate to sink back, but it isn’t violent. Aggressive. The coarse denim on his thigh abrades your naked skin when he twists to hover over you. Cushion denting under the weight of his knee. Your neck cranes back as he pins you to the back of the couch by the column of your throat. Head tipped back, nearly dangling over, neck straining. He looms over you.

Just—

Staring. Staring. You stare back and wonder if he feels your pulse hammering with the layer of the leather barricade between skin kissing skin. Like this, the mask is limned in shadows from the slant, and the crepuscular orifices under the plastic are even harder to make out. Harder to gauge. You want to gauge. You want to see—

You won’t have the upper hand. You know that, but prying for the threadbare margin of a hint, a motive, a reaction, feels like digging your fingers in for a last-ditch lifeline. 

His eyes are half-mast. Dark lashes spanned over the glint in pitch, mounted in white. You can’t see what he’s thinking. Can’t—

He reels forward, back hunched, leather jacket crinkling, and you feel the plastic mask tucked to your cheekbone. Your temple. Your hair. He reeks like santalum. Petrichor— the first rain spilling onto the pavement, scrubbing the bloodshed off into the grates— and the overwhelming scent of leather that clots in your nose. His mask scrapes your ear. He sniffs.

And you think, a little hysterically, that he’s smelling you. The recognition prickles in your skull, and climbs up your nape in a shiver. And it feels so— 

Animalistic. Primal. Indelicate. Like any sense of decorum flaking off and shedding like desquamate feathers, and it makes you feel so small. A frisson rides the ledges of your spine. Something shudders across his shoulders. Rattles them— you clock it in your periphery, stunned into subservience with your fingers twisting into the couch cushion. 

He sighs. Hums. Like he’s vibrating over you, buzzing, and the thought has that skein across your lungs tightening. The sound that seeps out of him is brassy. Low. Hungry. And the likeness that scrapes at your hindbrain, through the plume of reluctance and crushing desire, nearly makes you feel delirious— it almost sounds like a dog whining. Like he’s been holding himself back, and your scent is too much, chips an integral shard out of his flinty resolve. 

You don’t know why, but it makes you squirm. Makes your chest roll under him, hips shifting. Your eyes oscillate. Stutter from the ceiling fan to the corner of the room, because he’s smelling you and sounds like he’s falling apart. 

Your throat jumps under his hand. He drums his fingertip under your jaw, and it feels like the tick of a clock. He reels back. Slowly. Tipped over you, huffing with his head cocked. Almost panting. This harrowing monster, quivering in his skin, in all his heft, like he wants to eat you alive. Swallow you whole. His eyes slip. The feather-dust of his lashes kisses the pink-rimmed seam of his lower lashline, and he takes a deep breath, intumescent across the breadth of his shoulders. 

You swallow again, your throat still under his hand. The heel of his palm glued to your trachea. Your jaw arched back, under the press of his fingers. His eyes list. Stall across the apex of your denuded thighs, and the brief blip of pressure across your jaw, your throat, the fleeting restriction on your airway when he levels his weight and resituates, has your irises lolling and tainted gossamers stretching in sticky netting behind your skull. His freehand skates your abdomen. Prods your diaphragm, leather fingers grazing your belly button, the hem of your sleep shirt. Rucking it up. 

The boundary between arm-twisting and downright craving is negligible. It’s a foundation, under you— a poor excuse of a half-wall— crackled in fissures. When your hips hitch at the way he circles your navel, in a way, it feels like crumbled free will. Your own autonomy worn down and corroded by the chemistry spuming your veins (you tell yourself it’s artificial. A lethal injection of dopamine and melanocortin), because it feels like the hunger is pried out of you. Pulled out, tangled on his crooking fingertips. 

(And what do you have to say for yourself, when you need him like you need to eat.)

Your hips cant when he strokes his fingers over your waistband, across the sensitive, soft stretch of skin over your mons. You can still hear him breathing over the bloodrush, like spindrift, across the little, vibrating bones, deep in your ear. He sniffs, gaze pinned to the shape of your quivering thighs (juddering knees, swelling tummy)—

He knocks your legs apart with his thigh, until the plush of them spills around the shape of him. All broad, all muscle, all denim against your smooth skin, and he wrenches one of your thighs up with his fingers under your knee. Presses you back by the shin, with your sole planted on the couch cushion, and—

Like this, he has the perfect view. The perfect shape of your cunt, through your panties. They’re white this year. So unassuming, just a plain bikini-cut in ivory, but you wonder if he’s weighing the way they’ll look beside the other pair, like a sordid tchotchke. 

His eyes linger on it. You can’t see his inkpools, but they feel molten. Heady. Predatorial, and the shockwave riding the slanting arches of your ribcage makes it harder to take in a full breath. Lagoons spilling heat. They surge the soft shapes of your body like lavascapes, melting across your skin. 

You’re wet. You know that— feel the damp heat like you feel the want droning across your bones, lacing your muscles. And the sloppy, saturated shape of your dribbling pussy, behind the thin veil of a gusset, is no exception. You curl your toes. Dig them into the couch cushion. The carpet. Dangling onto the fragility of your self-possession (unraveling), and then he probes, with the tip of his index, right where your clit sits. A meager tap.

Your arousal is a tangible wad in your gut, and he plays with it between his fingers.

Desperation climbs to the base of your throat at an alarming rate. Echoes in your jugular as a thrum when his eyes sway between your face and the shape of your cunt. The shape of it under the entirety of his palm, swallowing you whole, between your legs, when he pastes his hand there. And he can’t feel the way it’s soaking, can’t feel how slick you are, but you wonder if the sheer heat leaches through the layers. 

If he can feel how hot and wanting you are, through the glove. 

He purrs like he can. Trails two fingers along the splitting fjord, your puffy lips. His thumb crooks into one end of your gusset just to let it snap back and watch the shiver roll up through your shoulders, huffing around a thick, rumbly noise that sounds amused. Drenched in humiliating mirth. A crater forms around his knee cap when he presses it onto the cushion. Between your split legs, thigh pressed flush to your cunt. Tight. 

“Gonna be a good girl,” he murmurs, face dangling over yours, and the words sound masticated. Starved. “—and let me eat that slutty cunt?”

There’s a fine line, you remind yourself, between being forced, and whatever the— you don’t want to admit it, won’t admit it, stuff it down— rapacious froth inside of you means.

He splits your lips with his fingers. Pries them apart like a butterfly to pin up and frame.  

Mental snapshots to encase on a shelf, mounted beside your underwear and a pushpin map with your face smattered in uneven, sawtooth cut-outs. All raw, and sloppy, and wet. Gushing down to the cleft of your ass— he can see everything, and his eyes rove like he’s mapping every bit of you to memory, your underwear balled and tucked into the pocket of his coat. Drinking in every delicate detail, your pebbled clit twitching under his thumb scuffing, and it’s so—

Humiliating. 

Embarrassing— shame clots in that interstice between your battering heart and your ribs, that soft spot it’s been dribbling into since he perched you on his lap like a little girl begging for a present. You screw your eyes, cup the heels of your palms over them. You can’t look— can’t—

He moans again. Gives you a heady hum, nearly as slick with want as you are between your thighs. Only, his is oil to your honey. Motor fluid to your syrup— a slippery smear of grease to sap. Rotten. Thick and coal-dark, like tar. Something gritty that catches like sand between his teeth when you try to close your knees. It’s a faulty maneuver, with your feet pried apart on his elbows, and you can only latch your knees, and—

It’s the wrong thing to do. 

A slipshod attempt to preserve your dignity, but what’s the use, when it’s porous enough for him to spew the virulent pollutant of longing for him? Noxious. Infectious. Enough to mill your pride from the inside into a powdered dust. Instead, he pries the folds of your cunt apart with one hand, on two fingers— an index and a thumb— and slaps the back of your thigh with the other. 

Your thighs quake. Plush flesh shaking upon impact, the searing heat wave that robs you of your ephemeral resistance— rolling the thought that this is gross, not what you want— and scorches it through to the core, until all that’s left for you to face is the overwhelming desire.

“Eyes on me,” he grunts. Dour. Unrelenting, until you peer through the spaces in your fingers like you’re watching a nightmare unfold, and let him wrest your knees back apart. “Yeah,” he tells you, hardly over the feather-light weight of a whisper, despite the way it feels like it’s crushing your skull from the inside when it swims your ears. “Just like that. On me, pretty girl.”

You can’t look away, so you chew on your fingers instead. Tuck them between your teeth, toes curling into the cushions. Your sleep shirt is in a discarded puddle of fabric on the floor, beside him. There’s something so uncomfortably potent in nakedness when he hasn’t even discarded his gloves. 

He won’t.

But an element of intrigue gets dredged up into the mist of your yearning when he sticks the pad of his thumb under the plastic chin of the mask to pry it to the bridge of his nose. Speckling the nebula, that clouds you, like stardust. Worse, yet, when he pries the balaclava to the same, angular slope, to show his bare chin, his full, pink mouth, his cupid’s bow. 

His nice, clean white teeth. 

His tongue, slinking out to smear across his lips. Like this, the cut outs aren’t over his eyes, and the pools of hunger are shrouded behind the plasticated layer. He feels with his fingers. Spreads your pussy apart, grazes his thumb pad across your throbbing clit, slick with your own sticky wetness, and you watch him purse his lips before a tacky, wet glob lands across your hood. Drool, dripping down, coagulating at your drenched hole. 

You shudder. Can’t look away— it’s—

Gross. It’s wet, and it’s rancid, and the feeling of it being smeared across your cunt, the feeling of a finger prodding at your rim, uselessly clenching at the air, makes your face crease. Brows pinching. 

(So why, then, do you feel so dizzy from the spiraling wave of your own lust fizzing across your veins?) 

You mewl. He tucks his fingers into his mouth. The same ones that have been smudging the amalgam of your slick and his own saliva, still tucked in that leather glove, and the sound he makes at the taste— pure hedonism, dripping around the plug of his own fingers— has your thighs hinging apart wider. Straining. 

It sounds so— shattered. So desperate. Frenzied. A sound like that, out of him, feels so unco that it nearly wrenches your head back. He groans around his fingers, sloppy, and grunts when he takes them out to feel for your hole, tease a breach with the middle digit, not quite bursting the threshold— 

And God, when he eats, it’s like he’s a man starved. Famished. All animal between your thighs, suckling on your clit, dragging his tongue across your hole, like it’s pure sustenance and he hasn’t eaten in weeks. Slurping around you, bullying your clit between his teeth like he wants to chew you up to spit you out. Rinse and repeat. 

He drags his tongue across you, so obscenely, seam to hood, like he wants you to see. Wants you to watch— wants you to know that you’ve got this horrifying brute on his knees between your legs, kissing on your cunt. Wants that ugly revelation to stick to the inside of your skull like knotgrass spilling across your bones— a twisted thought you’ll never be able to tame out of fruition. You let this happen; let him take. 

(And worse yet, you liked it.)

“Sloppy, little pussy,” he grunts, the words muzzled against your sopping cunt, spilling against his mouth, dripping. Sticking in strings to his lower lip, the corner of his mouth— and he crooks his finger. Notches it against your rim. 

It feels wrong. Strange. Leather against your cunt, instead of skin, when he prods and—

Pops the tip in. Stretches your gummy walls to the first, gloved knuckle. The soft, wet heat of you pulsing around him like a heartbeat is lost on the leather, the barrier between your skin, but he’ll make up for it. He’ll make up for it, he’ll—

“God,” you mewl when he crooks the finger and stuffs it to the hilt, stroking the wet squeeze of your walls enveloping it. 

The brutal ugliness in the concept of this man prying you open, stretching you taut when he wedges his ring finger in beside the first, with a glove on, douses you in shame. Has a white-hot heat spewing, geyser-like, at your underbelly. 

The sounds, though, the wet-squelch of those leather-coated fingers fucking into you, spilling slick and shoving it back in, makes your eyes screw. Has a heat nipping at the apples of your cheeks the way it nips at your cunt when he grinds harsh circles around your clit. It’s too much. Nearly too much when he nicks the razor-sharp mantel of your nerve-endings and hones there upon the horrid, wheezing sound you make, the way your leg flexes out beside his head in jarred reflex. Like he’s punishing it. You. For congealing up in his teeth like an insatiable sweet-tooth he’ll never scrape off his enamel. 

You cry out. Knock the heel of your palm into his forehead. Into the edge of that eerie mask, the kiss me, unsmudged, but he’s unperturbed. Unruffled. Unyielding, the same way the brutal crash of pleasure spooling tight behind your navel, your burning, flexed core. 

He catches your wrists in his hand. Like two limbs of a lamb, ensnared. The most perfect, decadent feast to carry out on a charcuterie board, and the sound he makes against your cunt nearly sounds inhuman. Like a rabid, territorial animal at its mealtime, mouthing off at a hand that tries to intrude. Encroach. Take. The vibrations make your head spin. Dizzy— you’re so dizzy, and you don’t recognize that you’ve been holding your breath until the shuddery cry that tears its way out of your mouth is silent. A hiss of a breath that melts into a long, wet gasp. 

He tucks your hands to your tummy, and takes. And takes, and takes. It belongs to him, right? The garbled slur that slips through the negligible gaps between your teeth sounds fucked stupid, and he hasn’t even split you apart on his cock. 

Your fingers twitch, pressed to your mons. Try to reach— to pry— hips canting back, forward, away, into. Against his slippery chin, and his tongue, and his unrelenting mouth. 

And oh, how you unravel, under his jaw, like you belong there. Under his hands, and the tip of his nose tucked to your mons, and the flats of his teeth, grazing—

He doubles down when he feels the pop— the release— your pretty, little cunt fluttering around his fingers, sucking them back in on every twist out, like a vice.

It starts on a long, wilting mewl. A desperate note that laces across your vocal cords and seeps out, not by your own volition, and ends on a gasp. The cord snaps. Too taut. Too much. The ripples of the aftershocks, lapping at your core, red-hot, sloppy, and spent, and overly sensitive, crescendo into a horrible ache when he suckles over your clit. Draws a searing stripe across your nerve endings with the tip, stifling groans into your puffy sex. 

You squeak. Tremble, toes tensing. Flexing. Hips arching back, trying to scoot away. Off. 

“I— came,” you bluster, but it sounds hoarse. Distant, in the thundering thrum of your vertiginous headrush. “I—“ you try again, hips canting, and he swipes out with his tongue, catches something raw and smarting on the fleshy edge. 

You jolt. Spine twisting, distorting pleas between your teeth you’re swishing them across your gums. You wriggle your foot, wheedling it under the space where his mouth is flush with your cunt. “I— please—“

He wrenches your foot back into place so aggressively that all you can do is make a pitiful, helpless squeak. Lashes fluttering, writhing, gnawing into your lower lip when he rolls his tongue across your pulsing clit. The sound that rumbles across your core rattles you down to the marrow. It feels like he wants to chew you to the bone. 

And when he pops off, finally— finally— panting like he’s had his fill, sucking at one of your lips until it’s tender and kiss-bruised— satiated this quenchless thirst that riles in the apertures of his skeleton, humming in his musculature— you breathe. Just breathe. Catch it— snag it. A soft repose in recompense for the throb in your guts, between your legs. Crystalline beads hover, sprouted from the corners of your eyes, streaking across your lash line. Your gaze is lachrymal. Pools of an unspooled bliss, mottled overwhelming, shimmery and red-rimmed. 

And the breath you’ve been catching—

Is forced out from between your lips when his hand lurches. Pins you, supine, to the couch, fingers spanning your nape. Heel of his palm at your jugular. The abruptness of the motion has your heart lurching to your throat. It nearly kisses the shape of his hand.

(But you suppose, if that cracked bit of your rib belongs to him, then maybe a sliver of your lung does, too.)

Somewhere between the dazed stupor of you, panting like you’ve run a marathon, and laying you out on the couch, he’s fixed the mask back on. The balaclava. And the crass, dirty thought that his chin is still slick under the cotton, making it sodden, and hot, and tacky to his skin, seeps across you and cakes like cement. 

He stares down at you through the cut-outs. Your heart is a hummingbird behind the rungs, trying to break free, and you feel it in your pulse, where his thumb strokes. You wonder if he can feel it. You’re still in that balmy, soggy headspace with your muscles pliable, your head heavy. A pastiche of heaven in a come-down, roping its way across your bones and smogging your hypervigilance. 

You’re less unnerved to be stared down at like that— like you’re a meal for him to chew apart between his teeth, like he’s contemplating every possible scenario and picking through to find the prettiest position to put you in, how to grind out the prettiest sounds— with your head feeling like it’s liquified.

Your lashes flutter. You trace the seams on the ceiling, where it’s been repaired for water damage. Maybe someone bled out on the floor above, you think. 

But the warmth of the evanescent fog doesn’t curb the note of nervousness that paints its way into your respiration— like bleeding watercolor— when you hear his hands on his belt buckle. See the way he hovers over you, so large, and indomitable, eyes potent and intoxicant. Hungry. 

(He’s sated his appetite enough to hold him over, bar him from tearing you apart, but he’s still hungry.)

“Think it’s about time you start to give back, sweetheart,” he tells you. Dripping ichor-thick with want. Like blood melded with syrup. 

Even with apprehension dancing across your mind, you want him to fuck you. You want him to stretch you fucking dumb around his cock, just the way you remember he did—

But his next words make that reluctance buzz a little louder in your hindbrain. Alarms. The blood-curdling croon of the siren.

“What do you think, mm?” he mulls aloud, tracing the pad of his finger across one of your pebbled nipples, then the smooth, unmarred skin of your tummy, pausing over your belly button. “Should Daddy make you a mommy this time? Make it stick?”

Your gasp sticks to your throat. Tangles between your tonsils. Your nostrils flare when you try to take a deep breath as indemnification, and you blink up at him, you find nothing but firm resolve in those voids. Abysmal, and unrelenting. 

“I— can’t… have a baby,” you croak, a touch incredulous, but you sound alien in your own ears. Like you’re drowning. 

He cocks his head, tipped down at you, with that ugly, ivory mask. “Sure you can. That’s what you’re built for, isn’t it?”

And the degradation, being stripped down to the metal cogs, the tender technicalities of your biology, makes your cheeks blister. It’s demeaning. You hate it. Hate him, you hate him— something molten rolls in your underbelly. 

(Something hot lingers between your thighs.)

You feel your legs dipping when under the weight of his crowding closer, between your split thighs. Bent at the knee, feet planted. The couch creaks. And when the coarse brush of denim kisses your naked skin, you feel the heat from it like a furnace. 

“No,” you tell him, eyes carved into narrowed slits, and the demand in your own voice makes your bones tremble when you hear. You suck in a breath. 

He blinks. Something flickers, congeals, in his eyes, almost like you’ve stunned him with your gall. Your unrestrained defiance. And there’s something uncomfortably stifling in his gaze, searing down at you, when he tips his head. Almost like he’s contemplating your response. Rolling it between his fingers. His thumb draws a feather-light line over your mons, across the stretch of skin where your womb is buried under the soft layers of muscle and fatty tissue. 

“How do you think,” he kisses his teeth behind the layers— a muffled sound, but one you pick up on with your heartbeat in your ears, “it works out if I take you now, and they find you later? Keep you all to myself. Cancels out, doesn’t it?”

The indirect threat, framed as a hypothetical happenstance, makes something curdle in your blood like sour milk. The bile rolls in the pit of your tummy, and you feel your throat squeeze. Your exhale is a weak hiss. A wheeze, because you feel like the breath has been knocked out of you, alongside the foolish temerity.

The finger that’d traced a line across morphs into a hand, and he presses the breadth of it to your underbelly. Big. All leather, broad, your belly button peeking from the wedge between his digits. 

He sighs, and takes the hand away. Works it back over his belt buckle, until the tails are free-standing, bifurcated, and his fingers work over his zipper. It’s a huff that swells his shoulders, and you’re reminded just how big he is, over you. How massive. How staunch to his ideas— you wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“But maybe,” his head bows to watch where he’s working, and his tone is thoughtful. Menacing. Saturated with condescension, the same way you’re drenched with the remnants of your gushing slick, between your thighs. He meets your eye. “They wouldn’t look at all. Awful lotta people go missin’ altogether, tonight.”

You blink. Squirm. Thoughts of you, swollen and pregnant with his baby— chain-linked to his wrist, to a dreary, foreign bedroom like a dog to a doghouse in a backyard— makes you vitriolic. Angry. 

Horrified. 

(So why, then, does it make your head fuzzy? Kindles crackle at your underbelly, where he pressed his enormous palm.)

“No— no. I’ll be. You can—“ you shake your head. Try again. Placate. This is a gun, broken china on a back shelf. You can’t dissect it for what it means. Your ribcage shakes. “You can do— anything. Please.”

You imagine he’s sneering at you from behind the mask. Under the balaclava, lips crooked, when he tucks a thumb into his waistband and frees his cock. One hand squeezing at the root, stroking up. The motion has a slimy glob of precum blurting from the tip. It’s thick in his fist. Heavy. Mushroomed ridges vivid pink, long, fat. A little lopsided, skewed slightly to the left in his hold, arching towards you. 

He didn’t make you suck it last time, but you wonder if he will, tonight. Gag the bold subversion out with the subtle flex of his hips, your insolence— you, stupid, little thing, telling him no— with his cockhead spewing against the gummy wall at the back of your throat. 

The view makes you dizzy. Like you’re staring up to the summit of a mountainside with him looming over you. The peak that crawls over you, so tall, and makes you feel so insignificant. 

Those liquid gemstones have shed across your temples, but you don’t recognize it until his thumb swipes at the corner of your eye. A pillow-soft caress. It’s almost tender. Almost. Deliriously, you watch him smudge the same thumb, brandished in your tear, along his cockhead. The wet thumbprint coagulates with the slick there, weeping from his slit. 

“‘Course I can,” he tells you. 

There’s no gentleness in the way he manhandles you, then. Wrangling you, by the scruff of your neck, into a hover across his lap. Positioning you how he sees fit, with him seated back on the couch, and you dangling over his cock, angled up in the seal of his palm. Your knees split across either side of his lap. 

“But mum and dad,” he grunts, and when his cockhead prods against your seam, you gasp, flinching up. “should stick together. Don’t you think?” 

He drags it forward, smudging it against your spent core, and it catches on your clit, the overstimulated nerve endings there, enough to make you shiver. It wracks up your spine. 

There’s nothing romantic about the way he holds you. He doesn’t cradle you close with this sense of softhearted adoration— despite your vulnerability— only pulling you close by the nape when his slick cockhead slaps your clit, your mons, with a wet smack. You gnaw into your lower lip, muscles clenching. Seeking. He smears the tip back to your pulsating rim. 

“What’s’a’matter?” he coos, probably at the rucks between your brows, creasing across your forehead. Your eyes flicker up. “You don’t wanna be my sweet, little wife?”

(You do, you do— you—)

“Oh—“ 

The press of his tip wrenching you open, taut around him, knocks your head back. Makes your shoulders rigid, spine arching over him, and his chuckle to the gasp that clots in your trachea is dark. Rich. It fizzles into a husking growl, though, when he presses down on the tops of your thighs and sinks you over him. Against him. Stretching the wet, sopping heat around him that throbs like a heartbeat with every tight breath you take, every inch lower. Your knuckles scrabble. Notch into his leather jacket, crinkling, burrowing, balling. 

“There you go,” he hisses. Groans. You’re not looking, but you know he is. Feel the molten pools of his gaze fixed where he’s feeding his cock, unwavering. He nearly sounds awed— splintering apart— when he tells you, “Such a pretty pussy. Look at this slutty, little cunt. Swallowing me right up.”

It’s raw. Bare— skin on skin— as close as you can get, and the pang that smarts at your rim permeates all the way up to your head, until that too, feels plugged. Foggy. 

It’s too much. Too—

He flexes his hips up sharply when you stall, just enough to wedge in to the hilt, and it wrests a high sound of surprise out of you. Nearly pained. Liked a kicked animal. It snags on something deep with the motion, something you haven’t been able to reach with your own measly fingers, and you mewl. 

He gruffs a slur behind the mask, tethers it with a groan, a breath that sounds caught in his mouth, but you can’t make out what it is. Not over the thrum in your ears. The assault on your senses, the unstilted stretch that feels like it’s prying you apart. Splitting you down the middle. Your thighs tremble. A sting. A dull throb that spills in your underbelly, lapping at your sex in sweltering, warm waves. Your clit twitches. 

There is something so cataclysmic in the way he hollows you out. Carves himself deep, scoring you in a way that’ll leave you begging for a piece of him, after, when you’re empty. A piece of his rib in return. It’s wrong— you shouldn’t want this man, crave him like you crave sanctum and stability. Your frenzied desperation, panting over him, seated to the throbbing root, feels chock-full of a festering longing you’ve been burrowing down since last spring. Spilling over. It sprouts— and spring, you think, bitterly, is all about revival. Rebirth. Flowering— the yearning you’ve been hiding behind your teeth germinates across your shuddering shoulders. 

He makes you ride him. Grunting, spitting how he wants you to bounce on his cock like the good girl you are. Soft, sloppy, half-hearted grinds you can manage over him, until he takes over, hitched on a huff that sounds nearly exasperated, and ruts up into you with the leverage of his feet on the carpet. 

He fucks you like he’s sedulous to make good on his words. Hard, fast, bludgeoning your rationale until it feels like you need the tang of cigarettes and santalum in every wheezing breath you take, writhing over the shape of him. His thumbs on your nipples. His fingers under the weight of your bouncing tits. 

Every pummel up into you feels like it kisses the seal of your womb. Feels like it’s battering a little closer to fruitions, to threats, and omens, and promises. 

And you like it. Love it. Can’t get away, can’t get enough, pawing at his chest, and then his collarbones, and then his chin, fingers knocking the border of the plastic mask. Kiss me— you think it’s cruel. So cruel, that you can’t kiss him. Can’t make out the shape of his bared teeth, the glint of them with his lips snarling. You want to lick across them. Bite. Taste blood for doing this to you. For making you feel this way. You want to tear him apart. Catch his tongue against your incisors. 

The thought is a distant chimera. A daydream you can’t chase, snared in a limbo— just take, take, take. But over the crests of your cheekbones, your dewy gaze watches him. Watches him, the way he’s watched you. Unrelenting. It’s hazy at the borders. Your sight flecked with wetness, shuddering, like a camera in hands that can’t stay still, but you’re unremitting. 

“Spit on me,” he growls. It’s an abrupt request— command, brimful of authority. Perverse. Then again, when you don’t oblige, it spills as a rasping grunt, “Spit on me.”

It wheedles into your threadbare sense of logic, registers. Your brows weave. Pinch, face creasing when he delivers a sharp plunge up, into you, tip to root. It’s gross. Disgusting. Lecherous. You think about your saliva blooming across his face, the way his heavy balls will throb. 

You want to spit on him. You want to bite him, claw at him, hit him— you pucker your lips. 

It lands as a tacky glob stretching across the bridge of the nose on the mask. Seeping into the inner-corner of the eye cut-out. Glistening, slick. The sight is revolting. Nasty. Your lips curl down, your brows crinkle—

He groans. It’s loud. Suffocated on desire, hunger, want, akin to the noise he made sniffing at your hair like a monstrous hound. A fucking creep. 

One of his hands leaves your chest, his thumb wriggles under the plastic white mask. It gets discarded, tossed off onto the couch. 

The view of him in, only in a balaclava, is new. 

No less unnerving, but it’s different, and it makes your inhale tangle in your throat. Something clicks in your lungs. You hover over him, with his neck craned up at you, and his eyes are green. Two pools of epidote, eroding under the swell of his pupils. Hornblende inkblots. A long, winding wild forest. You could get lost in it. 

(And pitifully, part of you already has. Melting apart like gum under the sun, between his stupid, thick fingers.)

“Fuck. Again. Give me another,” he tells you. It rumbles, but it sounds like a plea. You feel it vibrating in his chest, under your fingers, first, then watch the divot of the balaclava wavering into his mouth when he takes in a breath between his teeth. The way the cotton is stretched, tucked, across the bridge of his nose. 

You spit where he breathes. Where he’s huffing with every brutal thrust of his hips. It speckles the ribbed cotton with shimmer, then melts into the black where his lips lay. You can’t see how it saturates the mask, but you watch the way it affects him. Watch him unravel— the way he breathes through his nose, long, deep, lashes fluttering and dusting along his cheeks as his irises loll, and you’re faced with the view of their pure ivory frames. The pink rim across his lower lash line. 

He hammers into you, mercilessly, with his leather fingertips against your clit. It’s too much. Too harsh. Pleasure and pain coagulate into a lagoon that sloshes your head, pulses between your thighs, under his incessant fingers. 

And when he comes apart, under you, you nearly tip over the precipice at the experience alone. He makes a ragged sound, a groan, hips stuttering, and spurts ribbon after ribbon of his cum against the spongy walls flexing around him. Into you. Against the seal of your womb— oh, God— you burrow your hot face into his shoulder, hips canting, and bite at the leather. 

“Fuck,” he slurs. Heaves— and you feel him melting under you. Thawing. 

Your spine ripples. The molten heat of his cum, sticking to you, plugged up by his throbbing cock, makes you feel feverish. Aching. Charred all over, from the inside. You take a deep breathe and taste his musk at the back of your throat. Lingering along your tongue.

It’s almost comforting. But the reminder of who this man is, and what he does (has done to you, is doing), crawls along the serenity of your haze like a poisonous treacle. You muster the strength in your core to rock up onto your knees, make to clamber off. 

“Okay,” you breathe, “Okay—“

The thought of repose is a bittersweet mirage, though, sparkling in the distance, when he nudges his hips back up from beneath you. 

It knocks into something that makes your lungs seize. You feel his tacky spend coated across the undersides of your ass cheeks, spilling against the inside of your thighs. Pooling in the thicket of dark, wiry hair that nests around the root of his cock, dusting his balls. He grunts, and when he jostles you over his lap again, you have to catch your balance with your hands against his pecs. 

His eyes are shimmery when you blink up at them. Expressive enough for you to clock the derisive mirth that curdles, in shavings, along the chrysoberyl flecks in the tumultuous seas, when he hums. “You didn’t think I was done, did you?”   

He’s not done. Not for a good, long while. But you suppose, that a year of self-denial, precipitous self-restraint, is bound to spill over, eventually.

(It’s just too bad for you that you ended up in the path of the hurricane, front and center.)

He fucks you again over the arm of the couch, with your ribs smushed to the ledge and your knees on the cushion. Arms behind your back, head dangling, tits aching with the press of his weight, every drag against the fabric. Fingers in your mouth, straining the corners wide, riding the grooves of your clamped, slick teeth. Pawing at your ass, squeezing the flesh, prying your cheeks apart humiliatingly wide.

He makes you cum again. And again, until you’re sobbing. Legs hitched over his shoulders, chin twisted, gnawing into your own shoulder to stifle your mewls. 

“Tell me your name,” you slur under him. With his chin over tucked your shoulder, his hum ripples across your eardrum like a humid gust. Rolls between your shoulder blades. 

“Tell me your name,” you beg, again, mottled with frenzied desperation that climbs your throat. You know those eyes. You know that face— the one that lies underneath. The misty contours of it scratch across your skull in the smog of a memory. You know—

Your lower lip wobbles when he cups over your sternum, takes your breast in a doughy handful, squeezing around it, drowning you in every wet squelch, every slap of his hips against your ass. 

“Daddy.”

When you wake up, he’s not there. Ephemeral. The night nearly feels temporal, if not for the slick between your thighs, dewy at your cunt, where your seam is still aching. Crusting along the insides of your thighs. 

You feel like every bone is out of place. Like everything needs to crackle and slot back. Worn, tired, when you kick your feet over the edge of the mattress and stand. It pangs between your legs, first. And then across your chest. 

Your underwear is gone. You know you won’t find it. 

When you check the clock it’s midday. Late, too late to even be considered sleeping in. You’ve wasted the twenty-second off into somnolence. There’s still a haze across your head. This balmy, misty thing that keeps you sluggish. Tired. You’d chalk it up to oversleeping, but. 

It’s short-lived. Hollowed by the vacancy. Something stirs in the back of your head— you should probably send a life signal out to your family. Let them know you’re not splattered across the sidewalk, somewhere, or worse yet—

You think about his words. Keeping you all to himself. The thought makes your shoulders shudder. 

On the way to the bathroom, you find carmine carnations in your kitchen. Mounted in a vase that belongs to you, plucked out of the cabinet over your fridge. Beautiful, beautiful carnations.

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[lady-ashfade]

Thread

´*: ･ﾟ⋆˒ Younger!Rhaenyra Targaryen x Fem!Reader

╰･ﾟ✧☽ Ask by @loveislove4 : Hey I was wondering if I could request and rhaenyra fem!reader where rhaenyra and the reader have been together since they were young but through time the reader starts to feel used and unwanted by rhaenyra because of all the men she has put before and she try’s yo leave but rhaenyra seizes her and holds her captive

╰･ﾟ✧☽ words: 1.3k

╰･ﾟ✧☽ warnings: yandere behavior, slight dark rhaenyra, being held captive, reader sadness, angst, DARK!THEMES, toxic!Rhaenyra, suggestive topics. Don’t come for me. I support my queen.

╰･ﾟ✧☽ fades notes: my first request since the new season

-`｡ﾟ˘: ﾟ⋆ ––✷☽ ᱬ ☽✷––⋆ ﾟ: ˘ ﾟ｡.`-

The side of Rhaenyra Targaryen is where you stood all your life, even if you had a choice or not.

Things began when you were chosen to be one of her ladies by coming from a great family. There was nervous but skip in your step when you got to kings landing for the first time, anxious to meet the year older princess. And you weren’t sure if you could be good enough for her but you had brought a lovely gift for her.

A hand stitched dragon.

You fiddled with the cloth behind your back as you bowed at her presence. The day was warm with a comfortable breeze and the garden was blooming with beauty. But you had never seen something more beautiful then the young white haired girl. 

The girls beside you stood in a line and you could tell everyone was just as nervous, but they had more social skills. The bugs in your stomach made you feel sickly, so staying a good distance was all you could do. Each girl swarmed around the princess and overflowed her with comments and ask her questions of all sorts. About her dragon and what it’s like to ride one, or how beautiful her dress was and the brightness of her hair.

Standing just beside the table you look curiously at the princess, she had a glint in her eyes unmatched to anyone else. A mischievous smile as she teased the others by answering their questions. You heard of Targaryen features and she had the best of the stories.

A blush swept over your cheeks when you realized you’re staring, so you turned to the cup in your hands and played with the metal and carvings. Glancing over to the stitch you made for her—embarrassment filled you at how every detail was off. You worked hard of course, but her napkins must be more fancy then it and without mistakes.

Frowning your brows you glare down at the cloth. You shouldn’t be here if you can’t even talk to the princess. How could you be friends if you can’t speak? Though the Targaryen princess noticed you too, the only girl away from her and took silence. She was intrigued by you since everyone alway wanted to talk to her and these girls threw themselves at her feet.

She dismissed the others and headed over to you, you didn’t notice at first. Her hands grabbed a small pie and your eyes finally met her but slowly reaching up to her eyes. The moment of realization was pleasant to watch, the wide eyed expression and a soft gasp and fumbling over yourself to bow at her.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” she teased, you swear in the second she would bite. You set down the cup on the table and wiped of the palms of your hands quickly, “Forgive me, your grace. I didn’t want to overwhelm you, I- um,” you lose your words as she bats her eyelashes at you and tilts her head like you are the most interesting thing. The gaze felt mischievous, like she was making fun of you or wanted you to break.

Watching her eyes drift down to the corners of the table you frowned and rushed to grab the stupid gift. You laugh nervousness and picked at the sticked out threads, “Tell me, is the apple pie good?” You choked over your dried throat, maybe she would talk about anything else. Your wishes aren’t granted, her hand extends out and flicks her eyes to the stitch.

Heavily you handed over the cloth for her judgement you felt more sick then before. Shifting from foot to foot as her eyes trailed over the gift, and you couldn’t wait to see if the gods would strike you down. “You made this?” you nodded to the question.

“Sincerest apologies, it was my first attempt at making a dragon—”

“I shall hang it up on my wall,” she flashed a smile and threw herself at you and tugged you close to her side, “I shall show you Syrax, she is perfect to paint or stitch.”

As years go by the attraction and affection of Rhaenyra grow stronger. She is the only person who demands your attention and hates when it’s on someone else. And romantic feelings come fast, but only when she is a bit older do you both share your first kiss. You are her main priority. The world is made to make you smile and she will do anything to have you stay by her side.

At first it was heavenly, so much passion and love. She watches you like a hawk to make sure no one takes you, gifts you jewelry to claim you in plan sight. She clings to your side after the passing of her mother and most night she ends up in your arms. Of course things could never go smoothly forever as her ego grew larger, she played with her protector and never spent time with you anymore. Unless she needs to be held.

“Don’t act like this,” she groaned as rubbed her temple at your outburst, her chamber filled with yelling and cries from you. You scuffed and crossed your arms, “Act reasonable? I am tired of being treated like a toy unworthy of respect and love, only to call on at night for comfort or affection.” The pointed glare you gave made her eyes roll.

Shaking her head, she smiles like you are crazy, like you aren’t even worth hearing. “I am the heir to the throne, what do you want me to do? Drop all my duties and cater to your needs?” thats the irony because you do that just for her, you have refused countless proposals to stay by her side.

But that had stopped a few weeks ago.

“You never have to,” the anger continued to make you tear up in frustration and grabbed a letter from the table and throw it to her direction. She gave a puzzled look at you before opening the letter to read what was inside. And you hate to admit— you felt satisfied at the shocked and scared look in her eyes.

“Your father granted us permission, seeing as I was a loyal lady for you for years. My things are already being packed,” you calm down your voice and straighten your dress to take a few breaths. “Let me never be a burden again like you think of me. Nor, someone who you use like a pawn.” glory was a amazing feeling as you expressed your feelings, and the feeling of being freed from the pain she caused.

The door was right there, but she blocked the way with a bitter expression you never seen. You stopped and tightened your jaw to seem unaffected by her tempts. “You think you can leave after everything. No matter what you think,” she stepped forward and you tried to back up but she grabbed ahold of your wrist. “You are mine, and I love you.” trying to pull away from her got her more upset.

“I will not let you leave me.” You broke free from her grasp only for her shout for her guards and they came flooding in at her command. The skin in your wrist pulsed in pain. “She is to be taken to her room and locked in, and not to be let out by any means.” she demanded to the men. The guards look at each other wandering if the order is right to do.

“I am the heir,” she roared and the noise made all ears ring, so they did their job and grab you by the arms as you struggle against them.

“You can’t do this, Rhaenyra. Stop this at once.” your pleads fall death to her ears as she gave a victorious smirk as you are dragging into the hall.

There was no escaping Rhaenyra Targaryen. Not when she controlled the thread of your life.

[00-jammy-00]

Hi! 🌙 anon here!! Don't worry it's totally okay I make mistakes like that all the time too :D

I don't remember what I said exactly but I remember I said something like a Yandere kidnaps a transmasc Y/n and teases his clit and gets him cock drunk. With like an aphrodisiac and constantly being needy for the Yandere type thing? Perhaps overstim and multiple orgasms? I'm sorry I forget (●//▽//●)

Also side note, I typed out this ask and accidentally deleted it instead of sending it too--so clearly this is an easy mistake to make!

Alrighty, love your blog and the masterpieces you write! And I know I didn't say this last time but your pfp is so cute I love it

Yan!Kidnapper [Cock-drunk Reader Scenario]

Yan!Kidnapper x GN! Reader

Content warning - Yandere themes, THIS IS SMUT, He’s your kidnapper so mentioned kidnapping, mean yan, spanking (once), slight choking (once), he loves your nipples, psycho yan, he’s just a jerk

A/N - thank you so much for resubmitting your ask 🌙 anon <3 As you said in your second ask, I don’t write for anything other than GN reader so I’ve just adjusted your ask to that xo. This Yan is actually a little sneak peak of a new oc I’ll be adding soon. This is also my first time writing full smut so sorry if it’s not the best 🙏

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“For fucks sake [Reader], you got to keep still baby.” Jasper grunted, rubbing his tip against your hole before pulling it away once more. His grin only grew when he heard a whine slip from your lips. “Such a little slut for me, yeah? Your hole is trying to suck me in.” He chuckled, leaning his head lower to tug on one of your nipples with his teeth.

Your lovely kidnapper of a few months had decided it was a good idea to buy that viral sex chocolate or whatever the fuck he had seen on TikTok. It obviously did the trick because you were currently panting and whining just from the feel of his cock near you. “Christ babe, if you keep moving I’m going to tie you up.” He hissed, bringing a hand down on your ass in hopes it’ll stop you from fucking moving.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to hold himself back from just pounding you. Last time he did that, you bitched about it for so long. He blew some cold air on your nipple and laughed mockingly when you squirmed. “Do you want my cock? You want me to fuck you? Thought you said I was insane and shit?” He grinned, giving a rough tug to your already puffy nipples. “If you say please, I’ll give you what you want.”

He rubbed his cock head up and down your entrance at a teasingly slow pace. Up, down, up, down, up, down. You couldn’t take it anymore! When he finally heard that magic word tumble out of your mouth he eagerly slammed into you in one go, relishing in the sound you made. He grabbed onto your hips with a bruising grip and started to thrust, making sure to hit that special spot that made you scream.

“Fuck! You’re so tight! Such a pretty whore for me.” Jasper groaned, lifting your legs over his head. He pressed a kiss to your ankle before nipping at it with a smirk. “Might cum just from looking at your face. You’re making such cute faces at me babe.” He slid his hand up and gripped your throat, giving it a small squeeze before giving your nipple a sloppy kiss. “Keep squeezing me [Reader]. Fuck yeah, that’s it!” He grunted though his voice became slightly whiny as he picked up his pace.

“Gonna cum in your pretty hole, yeah? You like that?” He wiped some saliva from your chin before sticking two of his fingers in your mouth. He began to push them in and out at the same pace of his thrusts, eyes lighting up when your eyes rolled back into your head. “Look at you, going all dumb on my cock.” He cooed mockingly, moving his hands back down to your hips. “I’m about to cum so hold still, okay?” He murmured, pressing a loving kiss to your temple before thrusting quicker.

With a final moan, he came inside you. He was panting, eyes gone hazy before he snapped out of it and kissed your forehead. “You were so good for me, gonna clean you up now, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out and moving to the bathroom. While he ran a bath, he couldn’t stop the giddy smile from spreading across his face. Jasper finally fucking had you, you were his, fully. He wasn’t going to let you go, never, especially after you enjoyed having sex with him so much!

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Likes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated, requests are open <3

please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:25」 — l.minho

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➮ alien!Minho × fem!Reader wc: 5.4k summary: After Minho’s return to Earth, Y/N has spent the last year traveling the galaxy with her alien boyfriend. While exploring a tropical moon orbiting a massive planet in a binary star system, Y/N accidentally disturbs a cluster of bulbous purple luminescent flowers that release a glowing purple dust that sticks to her clothes and skin. She returns to Minho’s ship hoping that the dust isn’t toxic and will wash off but as she soon finds out, the dust is a very sparkly and very potent aphrodisiac and it has a profound effect on not only her, but on Minho as well. genres/themes/au: fluff, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, supernatural and horror themes; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: *eminem voice* guess who's back, back again. That's right! alien!Minho from Ninsa is back! If you haven't read the first part, you don't have to but you can find it here! This is gonna make y'all soft but only at the beginning. Things are gonna get hairy for our favorite alien-human couple pretty quickly! So glad to be visiting this au again. I love alien!Minho so much )): tomorrow is the final piece for Stray Kids and is also a sequel for Han's part from last year! Thank you so much for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. 

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), sex pollen (f receiving, m receiving), breeding, mild dirty talk, biting (f receiving), minor cumflation (f receiving), impregnation kink, use of pet names (hers: baby, sweetheart, love, cute shit like my star, etc.; his: babe, Min, Minmin, etc.), dom!Minho, sub!Reader, slight brat!Reader. I think I got all of them, but let me know if I missed any! kinks: Sex pollen + breeding dialogue prompt: ❛❛ Baby… you need me that badly? ❜❜

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A soft breeze blew through the trees, the leaves rustling and dancing overhead as you hiked through the dense grass. Glancing to the left, you noticed the sky starting to take on a darker hue. You pulled your sleeve back, checking the dial of your watch that read it was getting later in the day.

You should be heading back; you were heading back. It wasn’t entirely your fault that you kept getting distracted by the scenery. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen in any science fiction movie or show. The lush forest of the alien moon, orbiting a massive desert planet, wasn’t something you could have ever imagined. Minho had said the planet was called Kojar 6, orbiting a large star called Kojar which was part of the Kojar-Faline binary star system. There were 7 planetoids, Kojar 6 being the largest of the pack with two moons.

You had wanted to visit Kojar 6 but Minho had explained that there was nothing on the planet anymore. Nothing but sand being whipped around by the intense winds. Winds that could potentially rip a person to shreds. There were no people, no buildings, no animals on the surface. Only sand.

He promised the moons were much more interesting.

The first moon was an icy wasteland that reminded you of Hoth from the Star Wars series. Minho refused to land there, calling it a frozen and barren wasteland like Kojar 6 only instead of sand, it was ice and snow. That moon was called Ciyebos. The second, the one you were currently visiting, was a tropical world called Zocunia. It was a lush, vibrant jungle world not unlike that of Pandora in the Avatar franchise.

The flora and fauna were both incredibly unique, with very few predators. The few that did exist, you were confident in dealing with should you come across them. Since bringing you along to Ninsa, Minho had been insistent that you learn to defend yourself as he couldn’t always be around to protect you.

Much of the flora was incredibly beautiful, looking like something out of a fantasy world or a science fiction movie. Vibrants blues, purples, greens, and even turquoises, and pinks. Back home, on Earth, the more vibrant something was, the more dangerous it was. On other planets, that rule didn’t always apply.

As you continued to trudge through the knee high thick green grass, something round, bulbous, and bright caught your eye. You froze, turning your head to find nestled at the base of a tree that extended tens of feet towards the sky was a cluster of plants.

You carefully walked over, stepping over exposed roots and boulders. As you reached it, you knelt down, inspecting the plant. You’d long learned not to just touch things after contacting a rash from a flower that looked incredibly pretty and harmless. Minho luckily knew a remedy and was able to get rid of it with relative ease.

You instead raised the camera in your hands, a gift from your alien fiance from his world that he’d given you on your one year anniversary. Your phone could have worked for pictures but the device would only survive space travel for so long whereas this device was much better designed for space travel.

You snapped a few pictures, the shutter clicking as you pressed the button with the flowers in focus.

Looking up from the LCD display screen of the camera, you inspected the flowers with more scrutiny. 

They were glowing, having some sort of bioluminescence that a lot of flora on this moon seemed to exhibit. An evolutionary trait, Minho had explained when you first asked him about it.

“Much of this world’s flora has evolved to glow at night. It’s both a defense mechanism and a hunting tactic. Half of the lunar year, this moon is bathed in darkness, hiding behind Kojar 6. The bioluminescence lets the plants still feed and ward off predators at the same time.”

You loved listening to him as he seemed to be full of knowledge you’d never be able to learn on your own. He’d promised to take you to the libraries on Ninsa when you eventually landed there. Minho had promised that he’d take you to his home world, let you see his life and be part of it.

It took Minho three years to return to Earth and find you after you left Derry and your old life behind. He asked you to travel with him. To leave Earth behind and travel to Ninsa with him. He explained how the three years apart had been hell and he didn’t want to return to his home without you.

The opportunity to travel was one you wanted more than anything so you didn’t need much persuasion and readily agreed to leave behind your life to be with him. To see something far beyond what anyone could ever dream of. It was all you wanted more than anything in the universe.

It wasn’t long after you left Earth that Minho professed his love for you, asking you to spend the rest of your lives together to which you immediately said yes. You had been on an alien planet, enjoying the sunset when he asked you out of the blue. He didn’t have a ring to give you but he promised that the moment you landed on Ninsa, he would get you one.

You tilted your head, looking at the translucent membrane of the bulbous flower, a slight swirling inside, visible only due to the bioluminescence source deep in the center of the plant. As you leaned closer, the light started pulsating and you instantly drew back. “Alright,” you said softly. “Time to go.”

You snapped one more picture before shutting off the camera and pulling at the lens cover to place it back over the lens but no matter how hard you tugged, it wouldn’t come loose from the holder. “Goddamn it,” you grumbled as you tried to pry it off. “What the fu- oh shit!”

Just as you were pulling, it finally came loose but slipped from your grip and fell onto the flowers, bouncing off the bulbous membrane and falling to the ground. You scrambled to pick it up, snapping it onto the lens and looking up with wide eyes as the translucent flower trembled. Before you could draw back, the leaves popped open into a five petal flower, a cloud of sparkling purple dust exploding from the pressure trapped within.

You stumbled backwards sputtering as you waved your hand, trying to diffuse the dust and coughing. ‘Fuck,’ you mentally cursed, looking over your clothes, noticing the glittery dust had settled and as you tried to brush it off, it only seemed to spread more along the gray body suit Minho had given you.

You looked around and sighed before getting to your feet slowly. “Guess I’m gonna need to shower,” you whispered to yourself and started the walk back to camp where the ship was. You could use the outdoor shower Minho had set up for the two of you and hopefully he could grab you a spare suit from the ship.

You used your clean hand to rub your nose, a tickle settling in as you headed in the direction of camp, hoping whatever this dust was that it wasn’t toxic.

Minho took a deep breath, keeping his eyes forward as he watched the third bhunqoi hop closer and closer to his trap. He’d managed to capture two already and needed a third for dinner. The small lagomorph-like critter turned its head in his direction and Minho froze, hoping he hadn’t been made but when it took one more hop, falling into his pit trap, he knew success.

He sighed a breath of relief, getting up and pushing the leaves blocking his body from sight off and making his way over to look into the pit. It would seem the animal landed in a way that ensured it did not suffer. Minho hated hunting but sometimes it was a necessary evil for survival.

He collected the animal and moved back to his hiding place, grabbing the cloth bag with the wild fruits and vegetables he’d gathered before heading in the direction of camp. He’d allowed you to go off on your own and explore the perimeter surrounding their camp, making sure the stakes were still standing after the storm the night before.

He knew tropical storms on Zocunia were bad this time of year which is why he chose to pick a spot in the forest instead of on a beach or grassland. The trees provided an extra shelter over the ship, not that the hull really needed it. 

He’d upgraded his ship upon returning to Ninsa after leaving Earth the first time, ensuring that in the event of any more spontaneous crash landings, the hull would still remain intact. 

The Kojar was starting to set, bathing the landscape in an orange-ish golden glow, shadows becoming elongated and more pronounced as he finally reached the ship. His foraging hadn’t taken him far from camp, and hunting had brought him closer as he tried to stay within the perimeter.

Minho reached your base camp relatively quickly and immediately started a fire and prepared the meat for roasting while wondering where you could have gotten to that you would still be gone from camp. He tried not to fear the worst, knowing he prepared you for time on your own but he couldn’t help it. This was an alien planet and while most of the animals were docile, he really didn’t want another incident like the alien wolf encounter.

You had spent a couple days on a beautiful alien planet with him where he couldn’t hold himself back and asked you to marry him when you both returned to his home world. It had been spontaneous and spur of the moment but he meant every word when he said he never wanted to be without you again. 

He wanted to start a life with you on Ninsa, get married, buy a house, all the domestic things his friends were starting to do. He wanted all of that with you. Children was another topic you would have to have at some point because while he knew you were biologically compatible, there were other ways of having children. Other ways of starting a family.

As he set up the bhunqoi to roast in the flames, he sat in one of the chairs he’d set up and waited for you to return while he peeled and prepared the fruits he’d managed to forage. He was sure the conversation would happen sooner or later and when it did, things would be much clearer on where you both stood.

You were getting closer to camp as you walked, noticing the small signs you set up for yourself as you trudged through the forest. “When did it get so hot?” you whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead. As you walked, your body started to feel hotter and hotter. Almost like you had a fever.

Maybe it was the dust you’d come into contact with but you couldn’t be certain. Minho would know more. You just needed to get back to camp. ‘Almost there…’ 

You stopped briefly to lean against a tree, letting out a pant as your breathing started to increase, your heart rate rising as well. You weren’t sure what was going on and you really hoped whatever was affecting you wasn’t some sort of toxin and that you might be able to sleep it off. 

Reaching up, you unzipped the neck of your bodysuit down to the top of your bust, letting out a sigh of relief as the cool air hit your skin, a thin layer of sweat starting to form. It wasn’t much but it was something. You pushed off the tree, starting your hike up again and hoping to reach the camp before the sun set, despite the very pretty bioluminescence.

Your panties were starting to stick to you and though you hoped it was just the sweat, the heat settling in the pit of your stomach told you otherwise. You couldn’t understand it. You were alone in the middle of a jungle on an alien moon. What could possibly have worked you up so much when Minho was somewhere else entirely.

You tried to push the images of your fiancee from your mind as your body started to burn and ache for his touch. ‘Just to help me feel better. Not because I want to fuck or anything,’ you told yourself. You just wanted the heat to end and your body to settle down. ‘Minho will know what to do.’ 

Minho’s ears picked up on the sound of twigs snapping and looked up, seeing a form moving through the shadow of the canopy, a smile forming as you entered his line of sight, ambling along. His silly, clumsy, little human fiancee. He watched as you finally emerged from the understory, a smirk on his face. “Welcome back,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

His smile fell immediately as you stumbled forward, nearly falling. It was then that he noticed the feverish look on your face. There was no way that was good. “Y/N, sweetheart?” he asked, voice laced with concern as he got up and started to walk over, crossing the distance to catch you as your knees gave out. “M’okay,” you murmured, fingers gripping his biceps as he held you up.

“Like hell you are,” Minho growled as he helped you back over to the ship. “What happened?” he asked, helping you into a chair by the fire. “I-I don’t know,” you breathed heavily, swallowing the lump in your throat. The burning sensation had spread, an ache settling between your thighs, the gusset of your panties was beyond soaked by this point and you knew it wasn’t from sweat.

Minho pressed his palm against your forehead, clicking his tongue as he measured your temperature in the most basic of ways. “You’re burning up,” he noted. “You need to get in the show--” his voice trailed off as he noticed a purplish glittery dust on your clothes. Glancing down, he could see that it had transferred to his hands and clothes. “What is this?” he asked, glancing up and noticing the dust on your cheeks and nose.

“I dropped the camera lens cap into this cluster of flowers,” you panted. “I took pictures of it,” you added, pointing at the camera case. Minho shook his head. “Don’t worry about that right now, my star,” he said softly. “Let’s get you into the shower.”

Minho helped you up, leading you over to the outdoor shower he’d set up and helped you peel out of your suit before heading for the ship’s entrance, taking your suit with him and putting it in the wash. He stripped himself, adding his clothes to the wash as well and changing into some spare clothing.

Once back outside, he returned to the fire, turning the roasted bhunqoi over and sitting back.

He was thankful he’d taken the suit off as he started to grow warm. He sat for a moment, the heat settling in his senses, spreading throughout his body. It was a burning desire unlike anything he’d ever felt before. ‘What is wrong with you, idiot?’ he berated himself. Was it the thought of you being naked in the outdoor shower? It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being intimate with you. 

Since leaving earth and setting a course for Ninsa, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you at all. It was nothing new. So why was he so hot right now? His thoughts were interrupted as his eyes fell on the camera case and got up, crossing the distance to grab it and unzipped the pouch, pulling out the camera and pressing the button to turn it on.

The screen lit up, displaying the brand logo before going black, a little window popping up to remind him that the lens cap was still on. Minho ignored it, opening the gallery instead. He scrolled through the photos, a small smile on his face as he saw what you had seen.

He cleared his throat, feeling his pants tighten. ‘What the hell?’ he asked himself as he looked down. He tried to ignore the obvious tent growing in his pants, uncertain of what was causing it. It’s like his body was acting on its own accord. The thought of joining you in the shower crossed his mind and he grimaced. ‘This is hardly the time,’ he told himself as he tried to push the thoughts aside.

He returned his focus to the camera, scrolling through the pictures until he stopped on an image of the flowers you must have been talking about. They weren’t like anything he’d seen before. The bioluminescence was familiar, but the translucent milky membrane and the swirling purple glitter inside were not.

‘Is it some sort of toxin?’ he wondered, zooming in on the picture to inspect it. Minho turned the camera off as he heard the outdoor shower turn off and set the device aside, getting and grabbing the spare clothes he'd grabbed for you and walked over.

You pulled back the curtain, peeking out at him. Your eyes were glossed over, not unlike when he had you spread out underneath him. “I brought you some clean clothes,” he said softly. “And this.” He held up a clean towel. You thanked him, taking the towel and dropping the curtain back in place as you wrapped yourself up.

“Did you bring any shoes?” you asked, pulling back the curtain and looking up at him. Minho nodded, holding out the slides you'd brought with you from home. You thanked him, slipping them on and stepping out of the shower. The cool air felt nice against your burning skin, heat still coursing through your veins and pooling in your belly. 

Minho tore his gaze from the exposed skin of your shoulder, trying to ignore the way the droplets of water rolled down your skin. He handed the clean clothes to you before reaching his hand up to feel your forehead. His hand was warm against your skin as he pressed his palm against your head. “You're still burning up,” he murmured.

He took your free hand in his, raising it to press a tender kiss to the back. “Go inside and lie down. I'll come get you once it's done.” You leaned into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Mm,” you hummed. “Come with me.”

Minho chuckled, taking your face in his hands and raising your head. “I'll burn dinner if I do that,” he said with a grin before leaning in to press his lips to yours. He intended for the kiss to be soft, gentle. What he hadn't expected was your reaction.

You leaned into the kiss, pressing against him and moaning. It made his cock twitch against his pants and he had to force himself to pull back. “It's getting chilly out here,” he murmured, rubbing your arms. “Go inside and get dressed,” he added, gently pushing you in the direction of the door.

You grumbled, almost getting what you wanted before Minho took it away. Begrudgingly, you made your way into the ship, the door shutting behind you. You walked over to the bed, setting down the clothes and slipping off the slides. As you started to unwrap the towel, an idea planted itself into your head.

You'd just have to deal with it yourself.

Minho pulled the roasted bhunqoi from the fire, inspecting it carefully. Pleased with the results, he removed both from the fire and got up, setting them aside as he made his way to the ship. The whole time you'd been inside, he'd tried to calm himself, tried to will away the intrusive thoughts of following you inside and having his way with you. 

He still didn't know what had gotten into him but the longer he tried to ignore the intense burning desire to fuck you, the stronger it got.

The door to the ship opened with a soft hiss, allowing him to step over the threshold. Once he was clear, it shut with the same soft hiss and Minho walked further into the depths of his ship.

“Dinner's ready,” he called, turning the corner. “Are you feeling any--” he trailed off, eyes widening at the sight before him. “Better?”

You were sitting on the bed, towel still wrapped around you as you looked up at him, eyes wide. Your clothes lay forgotten on the floor. It wasn't just that what had made him freeze up. It was the fact that your hand had disappeared between your thighs.

He'd walked in on you in the middle of touching yourself. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes dipping to your hand that was currently being squeezed between your thighs and back up to your face. Your glossy eyes looked back at him, a pout on your lips.

“M’sorry,” you whined. “I thought I'd be done before you came in. I'm just so hot. I couldn't take it anymore!” Minho felt his pants tighten as his cock strained against them, aching to be buried inside you instead of your fingers. He'd heard you, but his mind went blank as the scent of your arousal hit him, his rainbow irises flashing once before shifting to purple.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered. Your heart jumped into your throat before settling back in its place, hammering against your ribs. “Wh-what?” you asked as he walked over. “Spread your legs,” he repeated, lowering himself to his knees in front of you, eyes dipping down to look at your thighs and then back up.

“Now.”

You did as he said, slowly spreading your thighs. Minho grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your sex and inspecting your fingers coated in your own arousal. You watched as he glanced up at you and back at your hand before taking your fingers in his mouth, groaning at your taste. “You thought you'd just get yourself off in here when I'm right outside?” he growled, dropping your hand and grabbing your hips with both hands.

You let out a gasp as he scooted you closer to his face, your ass barely sitting on the edge of the bed. “Thought you'd keep all this to yourself?” he whispered, licking his lips as he eyed your pussy. “As if I wouldn't eat you out the second you asked me,” he added with a scoff. He leaned in, licking up your sex slowly, eyes shut as gently savored the taste. He groaned, pulling back to look at you.

“Lie back,” he said, bringing a hand up to push against your shoulder, dragging his fingers down to loosen the towel and free your chest. “M'gonna fuck that fever out of you.”

You leaned back, propping yourself on your elbows as Minho lifted your thighs over his shoulders. He buried his face between your thighs, making you cry out, head falling back as he immediately went for your clit. You were already so wet, your cunt clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

“Min, baby,” you whined, moving one of your hands to comb through his hair. “You know I love it when you use your tongue, but I really need your cock.” Minho groaned, the lewd sounds of him licking and sucking your clit would normally make you shy away but right now, you didn't care. You really just needed to be fucked.

“Minmin,” you cooed, combing through his hair again, fingers knotting in his hair as he flicked his tongue against you. “Please, baby, please give me your cock,” you whimpered, hips moving in tandem with his tongue. He pulled back, looking up at you with those bright purple irises, his lips and chin coated in your arousal. “Aw, baby…” he murmured, fingers skimming up the inside of your thigh. 

“You need me that badly?” he asked. You nodded fervently. “Yes baby,” you breathed. “Please.” Minho couldn’t deny you when you begged so sweetly. He could get used to that. You, lying on your back before him, begging him for his cock.

“You think you can take it so soon?” he asked with a chuckle. You scrambled up, letting the towel fall to the floor as you turned away and bent over, knees spread on the mattress as you all but presented yourself to him. “Yes,” you replied breathlessly. “Want it so bad. Take me.” You could see your boyfriend's eyes gloss over as he was face to face again with your sopping cunt.

“Fine,” he growled, getting to his feet and ripping the shirt off over his head. “No prep, but I don't want to hear you whining about it later,” he added as he hastily unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them along with his underwear down.

His cock sprang free, softly hitting your ass as he grabbed your hips, the tip already leaking. He spat into his hand, coating his length with it before guiding the tip to your hole. Letting out a groan, Minho cursed in Ninsan as he pushed deeper into you, his grip on your hips bruising.

You whined, pushing back on him as sheathing more of his massive cock inside you. The stretch was unlike anything you'd experienced with him before. There was no pain though. Minho stopped and you groaned, finally feeling full. The satisfaction didn't last long though and soon the heat was spreading again.

You needed to be fucked and you needed it now.

“Minmin, please,” you whimpered. “Please fuck me.”

Hearing your soft cries for him spurred Minho on, forcing him to pull back, half of his cock sliding out before he thrust into you, filling your cunt in one motion. He choked back a moan, nails digging into your skin as he hissed and cursed again. “So fucking good,” he moaned, thrusting again, making your body shift forward, even with his tight grip on your hips. “Taking me so well.”

“Minhooo,” you whined as he set a steady pace, pumping in and out with measured thrusts. “Don't hold back,” you gasped, walls clenching around him. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Minho groaned, head dropping as you squeezed him. His hips stuttered to a halt. “You can't be serious,” he panted. “Angel, I don't wanna hurt you,” he continued. You shook your head, your skin burning and a thin layer of sweat already coating your body.

“God damn it, Minho,” you snapped, looking over your shoulder at him. “Fuck me like you mean it. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk!” Your tone must have flipped a switch in your boyfriend and he let out a growl, one hand moving to your shoulder and forcing your chest down against the mattress.

Without answering you, he started to thrust faster, hips hitting your ass with renewed attention. He'd been holding back, not wanting to injure you but when you snapped at him like that, it made his mind go blank and the only thing he could think about was fucking you.

Well, fucking you and breeding you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped as he leaned over, now both hands on your shoulders as he kept your chest against the bed, ass up and bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck, feels so good,” you moaned. Minho said nothing, grunting in response as your walls gripped him tighter. “Shit, yes. Just like that!” you mewled, feeling the head of his cock bump into the soft spot inside you, making you see stars.

“Hng, right there! Don't stop, baby!”

Minho let out a growl, hips never faltering for a moment. “God, yes, holy shit!” you gasped, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave. A rush of euphoria swept through you but Minho wasn't done. He'd slowed down, fucking you through your orgasm but as you came down from your high, he kept going, hips smacking into yours, the sound of skin against skin drowning out his pants.

“Min, baby?” you moaned, sliding your arms under you to push yourself up. “No,” Minho growled. “Not done!” You let out a moan as he pushed you back down. “Breed,” he growled. “Need to breed.” You groaned loudly as he continued to thrust into you quickly.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna breed you,” he hissed. Your fingers dug into the sheets, moans turning into cries with each harsh thrust. “Breed, breed,” Minho murmured. You felt his cock twitch inside you, letting out a wanton moan as he slammed into you from behind. “Mm fuck!” he cursed. “Breed, breed, breed,” he chanted softly.

Tears slipped from the corners of your eyes, the pleasure both overwhelming and incredible. Your thighs trembled as a second orgasm loomed. “Th-that's right,” you groaned, playing into his words. “Breed me, Min, fill me up. Put a baby in me.”

Minho let out an animalistic growl, fingers curling over your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as he somehow thrust even harder and deeper, making you scream into the sheets, your own fingers curling into the linens. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you heard your boyfriend snarl. “M'gonna cum. Gonna fill you up so much.”

“F-fill me up, Minho, please!” you cried out. “Fuck me. Make me your breeding bitch, Minho. Do it!” Your boyfriend let out a noise that sounded like a mix between a growl and a groan, thrusting into you a few times more before you felt the warm gush of his load spilling into you. “F-fuuuck,” you groaned.

You could feel his cock pressing into your cervix as he pumped you full of his cum. At the same time, you felt the base of his cock swell. ‘Well that’s new,’ you thought as you lifted your head. “Whassat?” you mumbled, letting out a groan as your walls stretched around him.

“S'okay,” he mumbled, leaning down to press kisses all over your shoulders. “Have to keep it all in,” he added. You only then processed that he was still pumping you full of cum. “Minmin?” you asked, trying to push yourself up but he quickly and gently pushed you back down. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Just lie still, baby,” he continued. “Have to stay still. Just for a little while.”

You felt your belly slowly start to swell, more cum filling your walls than you'd even experienced before. You felt one of Minho's hands move to your belly, just under your navel where it had swollen slightly. “Have to stay still, yeah?” he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Stay still and make sure it takes.”

“Make sure what takes, Min?” you asked softly.

You felt him rub your belly soothingly, his cock twitching inside you. “You said breed you,” he reminded you. And your eyes fluttered shut. “Minho,” you sighed. “We aren’t compatible,” you added as a reminder. You felt him press a kiss to your shoulder. “I know,” he murmured.

“But imagine if we were,” he whispered in your ear. “Imagine what cute babies we’d make.”

The idea of a mini hybrid of you and your alien lover made you smile, a soft sigh escaping you as he continued to press tender kisses to your neck and shoulder. Your eyes opened and you turned your head slightly to glance back at him, resolved to play into his fantasy.

“What if it doesn't take?” you asked softly, a slight pout on your lips. Minho reached his hand up, turning your head more so he could kiss you, pressing kisses to your lips quickly. “If it doesn't take,” he muttered in between kisses.

“Then we try again. After all, I'm still hard and have a lot more cum to give you,” he added with a smirk. “Wanna go again?” you asked, clenching around his cock. “Just to be sure it takes?”

Minho chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he slowly pulled back, the swelling at the base of his cock having gone down. He gave you a tentative thrust, ignoring the gush of purplish liquid that spilled out of you and ran down your thighs.

It didn't matter if some spilled out, not when he was about to fill you again and again and again. Even if it wouldn’t take, he could dream, right? After all, he figured out halfway through the first session that what you'd come into contact with was an aphrodisiac and he knew it would be a few more hours before it finally wore off.

He’d better make the most of it.

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