Meow.

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Instead, you were leaning against the counter with your chin in your palm, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Your shift wasn’t over for another four hours, and every minute between now and then stretched in front of you like a slow, mocking crawl.

You’d been fighting to keep your eyes open when the bell over the door gave a halfhearted jingle. It wasn’t loud, but in the silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.

You looked up, expecting the usual – a drunk kid with a bag of chips, a half-asleep trucker grabbing coffee – and instead saw him.

Suguru Geto.

The sight of him was almost cinematic in its predictability. Same leather jacket, worn soft at the elbows. He always knotted one drawstring and left the other hanging, so the drawstrings on the same black hoodie underneath were uneven.

Dark jeans with frayed hems were tucked into scuffed boots, leaving you wondering if he walked everywhere or just didn't care. His hair was pulled back in a low tie, loose strands falling against his jaw in a way that looked intentional, even though you knew him well enough by now to suspect it wasn’t.

He ducked under the frame of the door with that loose, long-limbed gait of someone who’d been up for hours already. His eyes flicked to you briefly – a quick acknowledgement, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was half a second from a grin – before drifting toward the back of the store. He didn’t bother asking where anything was. He never did.

“Evening,” he said, his voice low, carrying that dry humor that made it sound like he was in on a joke you hadn’t been told yet.

“Evening,” you echoed, though your tone was more guarded. You’d learned not to give him too much encouragement right away.

He disappeared down the aisle with the instant ramen and canned soup, the faint creak of the floor under his boots marking his path. You could picture him in your head without looking: crouching halfway to scan the lower shelves, tilting his head just enough for his hair to slip loose over his shoulder.

You’d only known him a few months, but “known” might have been generous. He was more of a recurring presence than a friend, more of a habit than a stranger. He showed up often enough that you could clock the pattern – mostly at night, always alone, usually buying the same handful of things.

A bottle of iced coffee. Instant noodles. Gum. If he remembered, he would occasionally grab a chocolate bar. And always with a comment or two that stuck in your head long after he’d left, popping back up at random moments like a song you hadn’t realized you’d memorized.

When he reappeared, it was with a plastic bottle of coffee dangling from his fingers and a cup of ramen balanced in his palm, steam-less and innocent for now but destined for your sad little microwave in the corner. The kind of meal that indicated he was either too busy to cook, too broke to order takeout, or too stubborn to admit he couldn't care less.

“That’s dinner?” you asked, arching a brow as he set them on the counter.

“That’s dinner,” he confirmed without missing a beat, his voice steady but warm. “Unless you’re offering to cook for me.”

You gave him a flat look. "Yeah, because my gourmet skill set goes far beyond microwaved noodles."

“I’m sure you could surprise me.” His words carried the faintest teasing lilt, but there was something heavier in his gaze – an unblinking stillness, like he was cataloging your expression.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it made the air between you feel charged.

You broke eye contact first, scanning the coffee, then the ramen, then the pack of gum he’d dropped onto the pile like it had been there all along. “Big spender tonight.”

“What can I say? Payday.” He leaned forward slightly, resting one forearm on the counter.

His jacket creaked with the movement, the smell of rain and faint cigarette smoke clinging to the leather. “How’s the graveyard shift treating you?”

You shrugged, sliding his things into a bag. “Quiet. Which is code for boring as hell.”

“I can see that.” His eyes flicked to your phone for a moment – you caught the way his gaze lingered on the faint glow of the screen – before returning to your face. “Guess I’ll have to come by more often to keep you awake.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the slight curl in your lips. “Sure. And what’s your hourly rate for that kind of service?”

“For you?” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “I’ll work for free.”

There it was – that half-smile, sharp and easy, the one that made you suspect he was used to getting away with more than he should. When you held out the bag, he didn't take it, instead letting it rest between you on the counter. The pause stretched.

Outside, the door chimed as a drunk couple stumbled past the window, their laughter muffled by the glass. Suguru didn’t turn his head and didn’t seem interested in the distraction. His focus stayed on you, steady in a way that made it feel like the store had shrunk down to just this counter, just the two of you.

“You’re not in a hurry,” you said finally, filling the space with something.

“Should I be?” His voice was soft now, almost lazy, but his eyes had that same watchfulness you’d seen before – the kind that made you wonder if he was picking apart every word you said, looking for an opening.

You shook your head, leaning back against the counter. “Guess not.”

He took that as an invitation to stay. Not moving closer, but also not leaving. Just there, anchored in your peripheral as you turned your attention back to the register. When you glanced up again, he was still watching you, that faint smirk threatening to deepen into something else entirely.

“You always work nights?” Suguru finally asked, his tone conversational, but his gaze was steady enough to make the question feel heavier.

You gave a small shrug, leaning one elbow on the counter. “Mostly. Pays the same, but no customers breathing down my neck every five seconds.”

“Just me.” His mouth quirked.

“Just you,” you echoed dryly. “And the drunk crowd after midnight.”

Suguru let out a low chuckle – deep, quiet, like it came from somewhere in his chest rather than his throat. He liked the way your voice softened when you weren’t talking to customers, the way it lost that fake chipper tone he’d heard you use with strangers.

You were different when it was just the two of you in here, when the aisles were empty and the only light came from the buzzing fluorescents above and the refrigerators at the back.

His eyes drifted over you while you looked away, pretending to straighten the gum display. The dark blue apron hung loosely over your hoodie, tied just tight enough at the waist to reveal your shape underneath.

Your hair was slightly messy from the hours of wear, the kind of lived-in look that made you seem more real, more touchable. The tired set of your eyes didn’t dull them – if anything, the faint shadows underneath made them look softer, like you’d let him in on some private part of your day.

Pretty, he thought. Pretty in that unpolished, end-of-shift way that made him want to keep standing here just to see what other small details he could catch before someone else walked in and broke the moment.

“You’re staring,” you said without looking at him, still rearranging gum packs.

“Am I?” His tone was smooth and teasing, but the corner of his mouth curved like he’d been caught red-handed. “Sorry. I was just wondering how many hours you’ve been here tonight.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Too many.”

“Guess that explains why you’re stuck in here at two in the morning instead of sleeping.” He drummed his fingers lightly against the counter. “What about after? You go home, crash, and wake up at noon?”

“Something like that,” you said, returning to your spot behind the register. “I’m boring.”

“I don’t believe that.” His voice was almost lazy, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He let the silence stretch, the kind of quiet where he could hear the faint tap of your nails against the plastic counter and the muted hum of a refrigeration unit kicking on. He didn’t feel rushed to fill it.

Suguru picked up the small plastic display of lighters sitting by the register and turned it idly in his hand. “Still no one else here.”

“Were you hoping for company?” You inquired, tilting your head.

“Got it,” he said simply, glancing at you.

The words were thrown out casually, but in his mind, he was already turning over the fact that he meant them. He hadn’t planned to stay this long – hell, he hadn’t planned much of anything tonight except maybe grabbing something cheap and heading home.

But you’d been here, half-slouched over the counter in that tired-but-not-unfriendly way, and the idea of walking back out into the empty street suddenly seemed like a worse option.

You tapped the register screen with one finger, glancing past him toward the door. “You know, if you’re just going to loiter, you could at least make yourself useful.”

“What, stock shelves? Sweep the floor?”

“I was thinking more like you entertaining me so I don’t fall asleep standing up.”

His grin widened. “That, I can do.”

And he did – not in any grand way, just in the steady rhythm of back-and-forth conversation that didn’t feel forced. He asked about the weirdest thing you’d ever seen on this shift (“a guy who tried to buy milk with foreign coins,” you said), told you about a delivery driver who yelled at him over nothing, and made an offhand comment about the playlist you kept quietly running on your phone behind the counter.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he reached over to grab a chocolate bar from the rack, tossing it onto his pile of purchases without breaking the flow of conversation. You rang it up, sliding it into the bag with the rest of his things.

“Do you eat like this all the time?” you asked, giving him a pointed look at the mix of caffeine, instant noodles, gum, and sugar.

“Don’t judge me,” he said, smirking. “Some of us thrive on the finer things in life.”

You snorted. “Right. The finer things. In a plastic wrapper.”

He leaned a little closer across the counter, lowering his voice as if he were letting you in on something confidential. “You’d be surprised how far you can get on gas station coffee and stubbornness.”

For a second, you thought he might actually be serious, but then his eyes crinkled at the edges, and you realized he was enjoying himself far too much to mean it entirely.

The last customer of the night – a man in a damp hoodie who bought nothing but a bottle of water and a scratch-off ticket – left just after 3:15, letting the door swing shut with a muted jingle. After that, the store settled into complete stillness.

Suguru glanced toward the parking lot through the rain-streaked glass. “Almost closing time?”

“Twenty minutes,” you said, flicking your eyes to the wall clock before scanning the countertop for anything left to tidy. “Then I get to go home and collapse face-first into my bed.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.” He drummed his fingers lightly on the counter, the sound barely audible over the refrigerator hum. “You walk home from here?”

You shook your head, crouching to grab a roll of receipt paper from under the counter. “Bus. But there’s only one this late, so if I miss it, I’m screwed.”

He nodded slowly, filing that away. Noted.

The minutes crawled by. He didn’t try to leave, and you didn’t ask him to. Instead, he watched you lock the till, turn off the neon “OPEN” sign in the window, and step into the back to grab your coat from a hook on the wall. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands in his jacket pockets, his mind running faster than his mouth.

He didn’t plan this – hadn’t rehearsed a single word – but when you came back out, sliding your arms into your coat, something in him pushed past the usual small talk.

“Hey,” he started, catching your attention before you could reach for your bag. His voice was quieter than it had been all night, almost testing the air. “You ever, uh… go out after your shift?”

You blinked at him, one brow arching. “Go out?”

“Yeah, like… grab a drink. Or food.” His gaze darted briefly to the floor, then back to you, the tiniest crease forming between his brows. “I’m asking because… I was thinking maybe we could. Sometime.”

It wasn’t smooth. His delivery wasn’t the polished, cocky charm you’d expect from someone in a leather jacket at 3 AM. It was hesitant in a way that made you pause, as if he wasn't used to presenting the idea without knowing the answer.

You tilted your head, looking him over as if you were unsure whether this was a joke or not. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah.” His lips tugged into a faint, nervous half-smile. “I mean, if you want to call it that.”

You let the silence hang just long enough to make him shift his stance, his shoulders straightening as though bracing himself for a no. Then you shrugged, slipping your bag over your shoulder. “Sure.”

His brows lifted slightly, the reaction almost imperceptible, but the relief in his posture was obvious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, flicking off the last row of overhead lights and heading for the door. “But you’re buying.”

He followed you out into the damp night, the smell of rain still hanging heavy in the air. The parking lot was empty, save for the occasional ripple of water in the puddles from a distant car. As you locked the glass door behind you, he glanced down at you from under the shadow of his hood, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth – softer than usual, warmer.

“Deal.”

And with that, you started down the sidewalk toward the bus stop; he fell into step beside you, hands shoved back into his pockets, looking for all the world like a man who’d just decided this was going to become a regular thing.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks since that awkward half-smile in the damp parking lot, when he asked you out with the hesitation that made it appear as if he had never asked anyone out before. You agreed two weeks ago, and now nothing. No elbows resting on the counter, no late-night aisle walks, and no cheap iced coffee bottles gliding across to the register with that effortless smile.

The first few nights you figured maybe he was busy. People got busy. Work schedules changed. Then a week passed, and you found yourself watching the door without meaning to, telling yourself you weren’t waiting for him when you obviously were.

By the second week, you’d decided he wasn’t coming back.

Now you’d downgraded to mumbling to yourself as you wiped down the counter, the rag dragging in lazy arcs over the laminate. “Guess I got ghosted by a guy who lives off gas station ramen. Great taste, me.”

The store was dead quiet except for the constant low hum of the coolers and the occasional click of the clock above the door. You were in the middle of restocking the gum display when the bell over the door gave a shrill jingle. You glanced up, halfway to your “welcome” voice, and froze.

But....Jesus Christ.

The man who stepped inside looked like someone had wrung him out and left him in the sun. His black T-shirt was stained dark down the side like he’d leaned against something greasy, the collar stretched and uneven. 

Baggy cargo pants sagged low on his hips, pockets bulging, knees scuffed. His boots were unlaced. Sweat clung to his hairline, beading on the side of his throat, dampening the strands of hair that had escaped the messy half-up tie at the back of his head. 

And his eyes–God, his eyes. Not the same warm brown you remembered. Tonight, they looked bruised at the edges, shot through with a faint, unnatural violet glint that caught the overhead lights when he moved.

He didn’t even acknowledge you at first. Just strode past with long, heavy steps like the store was the only thing between him and a cliff. You caught a flash of his expression as he passed–jaw clenched, lips moving, but not to you.

You straightened slowly behind the counter, your eyes narrowing. “...What the hell?”

He was talking. To himself. Low, under his breath, and constant, like he was in the middle of an argument no one else could hear.

“I told you, I’m going to get it–yes, all of it–no, she doesn’t know, will you shut up for two seconds–” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, snatching a basket from the stack by the endcap and moving fast toward the snack aisle.

In your head, the thought came unfiltered: runaway from a mental hospital.

With the dexterity of a man on a mission, he began to gather items, throwing into the basket bags of chips, sleeves of cookies, and enough instant noodles to feed a small army.

You could see the flex of his jaw as he spoke again, still to himself. “I don’t care how much sugar you want; you’re not eating nothing but sugar–you’re gonna get us killed–”

Kill her.

The voice was sudden in his head, cutting, not yours, not his–not something human.

Suguru’s hand tightened around the handle of the basket, his knuckles pale. “We’re not killing anyone.”

She is tender. She would be exquisite. You are already thinking about it.

“I’m not,” he muttered harshly, shoving a handful of protein bars into the pile.

From where you stood behind the counter, you could hear every bit of it now, the tone of someone half-crazed from exhaustion. His shirt clung to his back where sweat had dampened it, the fabric darkened in uneven patches.

When he reached the refrigerated section, he threw the door open and started grabbing bottled drinks at random–three iced coffees, a chocolate milk, an energy drink, and two Gatorades, all dumped unceremoniously into the basket.

“–it’s fuel. That’s what it is. Fuel,” he said under his breath, his voice pitched low like he was trying to reason with the thing in his head.

You are slow when you are famished.

“Then you’ll have to wait,” he snapped quietly, closing the fridge door harder than necessary.

You didn’t even realize your arms were folded until you felt your nails pressing into your sleeves. He looked awful–sweaty, twitchy, the faintest sheen of something not quite right in his eyes–and yet there was something about him that still pulled your gaze along every step he took.

He was stupidly attractive even in this state, with his shirt soiled and dangling off one shoulder.

He reached the counter and set the basket down hard enough to make the gum rack rattle. His breathing was shallow, his hair sticking to his temple.

“You okay there, champ?” You asked, glancing at the heap of food.

His head snapped up. For a second, you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you; then that violet flick in his eyes softened, barely, as he said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Lie.

He winced, almost imperceptibly. He repeated, more slowly, "I'm fine," as if it might be true if he said it again.

You rang up the coffee first, your gaze flicking up to him. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been busy,” he said, his voice a little rough, like he hadn’t had a glass of water in hours.

Tell her you missed her.

“I didn’t–” he started, then stopped, jaw locking again. “I’ve had… stuff.”

Your brows furrowed. “Stuff?”

“Personal stuff,” he muttered, pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket.

We should tell her. She looks edible. Maybe she could feed us.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose like he was counting to ten. When they opened again, you caught the faintest smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

You slid the last item into a bag, trying to piece together the image of the man you’d talked to two weeks ago with the one standing here now–sweat-slick, restless, and carrying on an argument with himself. Or something.

“Well,” you said, pushing the bag toward him, “don’t forget to eat. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

We are starving.

“Yeah,” he said, taking the bag and glancing at the door as though he couldn’t get out fast enough. “I know.”

As he turned to leave, the bell above the door jingled again, the sound swallowed by the wet hiss of rain outside. You watched him go, still not entirely convinced you hadn’t just rung up a very attractive lunatic who’d escaped from somewhere with padded walls.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

The streets were empty enough to hear the occasional hum of a far-off traffic light and the slow drip of rainwater from a bent gutter. You’d just gotten off your shift, cutting through the back end of the neighborhood to shave ten minutes off your walk home.

It was the kind of late where everything felt sharper – the way the cold bit into your cheeks, the damp smell of asphalt, and the hollow echo of your boots when you passed under an overhang.

That was when you saw him.

At first, you thought it was just some random guy crouched low behind the old diner, half-hidden in the alley’s shadow. Then the figure shifted under the weak glow of a wall-mounted lamp, and your brain caught up to the shape of his shoulders, the tie of his hair, and the way he moved.

Suguru.

But not like you’d seen him before.

Tonight, instead of his typical leather jacket and tidy half-up, he wore a loose gray hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a dark stain on the front pocket from repeatedly wiping his hands there. The hood was down, his hair barely tied at the back in something that could barely pass as a knot, several strands hanging loose to stick to the sweat along his jaw and neck.

His sweatpants – dark, old, the drawstring frayed – clung damp to his thighs and knees, and the sneakers on his feet looked like they’d been through hell.

And he was eating.

Not just eating – going in. Suguru was removing tater tots by the handful from a cardboard boat that was covered in grease and resting on top of the dumpster lid.

No fork, no hesitation. Just shoving them into his mouth as if someone would try to take them away. Salt dusted his fingers, oil slicked the pads of his thumbs, and every few bites he licked his hand clean in a way that was far too deliberate to be accidental.

In his head, the voice stirred.

You are slow when you are hungry.

“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, chewing fast. His voice was low and harsh, like the words were meant to stay inside but leaked out anyway.

You are sweating. You look pitiful.

“It’s still better than starving,” he shot back quietly, grabbing three more tots at once and tossing them into his mouth.

We could be eating something more delicious.

“You’re not getting raw meat out of me right now,” he growled, shaking his head.

Not raw meat. The voice slid slick and amused along the edges of his thoughts. Her.

Suguru’s jaw tightened. “Not happening.”

She watches you. She stared at your hands last time.

He almost dropped the food. “Shut up.”

She was wondering how they’d feel.

He was grinding his teeth, chewing slower now, but still reaching back for more. His hoodie clung to his back in patches, soaked through with sweat from whatever he’d been doing before this. A bead slid down from his hairline to the curve of his neck, catching in the hollow of his collarbone before disappearing under the cotton.

You think about her when you eat.

“I don’t,” he lied, swallowing hard. “Not like that.”

False.

You stood frozen at the mouth of the alley, every word carrying clearly in the still air. Your heart thudded once, hard, and then faster as you watched him keep eating – one hand braced on the dumpster edge, the other scooping up more food.

His fingers were shiny with oil, the tips stained orange from the seasoning, and when he ran his tongue over the heel of his palm to catch the salt, your stomach dropped for reasons you weren’t going to unpack right now.

He tossed the empty carton aside with a careless flick of his wrist, licking the last of the grease from his fingers before wiping them down the front of his hoodie. His breathing was heavier now, the sharp rise and fall visible even from where you stood.

Find her.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, straightening up.

You could.

“I said no.”

When his head turned toward the alley's mouth, you slid back against the brick wall, pressing yourself into the shadows as if you could merge with the damp mortar.

No way in hell you were letting him catch you out here – not when you’d just witnessed him wrist-deep in dumpster tater tots and holding an entire conversation with… whoever lived in his head now.

Your breath came in slow, controlled pulls as you listened to his sneakers scrape over the wet concrete. He walked out onto the street without looking back, hood half-slouched off one shoulder, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

You waited until the distance between you was safe before stepping out and following at a cautious pace, keeping far enough back that the occasional streetlamp didn’t give you away.

From this distance, you could still see the faint swing of his hair, the damp cling of sweat-darkened fabric to his back, and the way his shoulders hunched like the air was too heavy.

He moved with that loose, prowling gait that didn’t quite fit the man you’d known a few weeks ago – the one who’d leaned against your counter and made you smirk at stupid jokes. This Suguru was muttering under his breath again, voice low, words jagged at the edges like he was holding back something sharper.

Inside his head, Venom stretched.

She is nearby.

“Don’t start.” His voice was barely above a whisper, intended for no one but the thing that ran through his thoughts.

Her scent is savory tonight.

He scowled at the sidewalk. “It’s the city. You’re smelling fry oil and cheap perfume.”

No, the voice croaked, sliding slick over the inside of his skull, I smell her. You are already acquainted with the smell.

Suguru’s brow creased. “Not talking about this.”

Wet.

He stumbled for half a step, catching himself. “Jesus Christ, what–”

Warm and wet.

His jaw tightened, eyes flicking briefly to the glow of a streetlamp before looking away again. “You’re disgusting.”

And you are pensive about it.

“I’m thinking about getting home,” he hissed.

You are fantasizing about sliding your hand down her apron while she is behind the counter, pulling it up just enough to–

“Enough.”

–feel that pretty heat drip over your fingers while she tries to keep quiet–

Suguru scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning under his breath. “Do you even hear yourself?”

I hear you, Venom replied, smug. I hear your pulse pick up every time I say her name. I hear the way your breath changes when you think about her thighs–

“I’m not–”

-how soft they would feel wrapped around your hips.

He ground his teeth as his pace quickened. The sidewalk slicked under his sneakers, the air thick with that damp, late-night heaviness that stuck to skin.

She would let you. Venom went on, almost purring now. She’d look up at you with those eyes and open those pretty thighs–

“That’s not–”

It is.

His hands curled in the hoodie’s pocket, nails biting into his palms. He continued walking, head down, trying to drown it out, but Venom's voice slid between thoughts like oil, slow and sticky.

You could bend her over the counter after closing. Push her face down, lift her skirt–

“Shut. Up.”

-taste her until she is unsure how to stand.

He breathed out hard through his nose, trying to pretend the twitch in his gut wasn’t there.

Behind him, you trailed in near silence, your pulse racing for entirely different reasons. From the outside, it just looked like he was talking to himself – talking a lot to himself – and whatever that voice in his head was saying, it was clearly getting under his skin.

You hugged the building line, ducking into the occasional doorway or letting a row of newspaper boxes block you when he glanced vaguely around.

Suguru turned onto a narrower street, the kind with chain-link fences and the faint hum of an overworked power transformer somewhere nearby. His shadow stretched long in the streetlight before him, swaying faintly with his stride.

She is behind you. Venom murmured.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t fuck with me.”

I never do.

“You’ve been fucking with me since you showed up.”

Look at her. Bet she is watching your back. Bet she is circulating ideas about–

“Stop.”

–what you would do if you caught her.

“I said stop.”

Venom gurgled in his head, deep and wet and smug. You would not just catch her. You would pin her.

Suguru swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “If I ever let you talk, you’re getting a muzzle.”

It would not fit.

He didn't respond, simply continued walking, the heat rolling off his body in waves from beneath the damp hoodie. You noticed how his shoulders kept shifting like he was working out a knot and how every so often his head dipped forward like he was trying to think through static.

Venom’s tone shifted, less taunting now, almost coaxing. We are hungry. She is right there. She comes off like she wants it.

Suguru’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know what she wants.”

I know you do.

His pace slowed for half a block, then picked up again, as if he were forcing himself not to turn around. You ducked behind a battered mailbox, pulse hammering in your ears, and waited until he was a mere thirty feet ahead before moving again.

The whole thing felt unreal – you, following him through damp side streets like some low-budget detective, and him arguing with thin air while sweat rolled down the back of his neck. And whatever was in his head? You didn’t want to believe it was real.

But the way he reacted, the heat in his voice when he hissed those clipped replies, the tension in his shoulders… It was real enough.

Suguru reached the corner, pausing under a flickering streetlamp. He dragged a hand over his face again, fingers pressing into his temples.

You are picturing her bent over.

“I’m picturing you shutting the fuck up.”

You would make her drip all over the counter–

“I said shut it.”

–and then you would lick it up until she begged.

He made a low sound in his throat, somewhere between exasperation and a growl, and started walking again, faster this time.

You followed at the same careful distance, your breath clouding faintly in the cool air, eyes fixed on the damp line down the back of his hoodie.

He didn’t look back once. Didn’t notice you at all. And somehow, that was worse – because it meant whatever was going on in his head was enough to swallow every ounce of his attention whole.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

The glass door chimed with the tired, half-broken bell that the convenience store had never bothered to replace, and Suguru walked in as if he owned the place.

The late-night glow reflected on the edge of his bomber jacket, the black nylon rippling faintly over his shoulders as he pushed the door shut behind him. His hair was pulled back cleaner than the last time, but not perfect – a few stubborn strands fell loose to cling to the sweat at his temples and the damp hollow at the base of his throat.

The jacket was unzipped enough to show the plain white tee underneath, already clinging in places where the heat from his skin bled through. The hem of his jeans brushed the tops of his boots with every slow step, the dark denim worn soft in all the right places, and he smelled faintly of smoke and that subtle spice he probably didn’t even know stuck to him.

You cleaned up. Venom murmured in the back of his head, voice slick and approving. Trying to impress her?

“Shut it,” Suguru muttered under his breath, scanning the aisles as if he were actually here for groceries. His hand adjusted the strap of the bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand sliding into a pocket.

She is here. I can smell her from the door.

Suguru ignored him, or tried to. The hum of the coolers at the back was loud tonight, the overhead lights warm instead of buzzing blue. A stack of discounted potato chips leaned precariously at the end of the first aisle, and for half a second he considered knocking it over just to amuse himself.

Then his gaze caught on movement behind the counter – and everything in him slowed.

You were bent slightly at the register, restocking a rack of gum with methodical precision, your hair down for once. No apron. Just a short, thin black dress that skimmed the tops of your thighs as you moved, the fabric hugging here and loosening there in a way that made his pulse quicken.

The neckline dipped just enough to tease without trying, and the rise and fall of your chest faded into the low hum of the store.

His eyes lingered a fraction too long, trailing over the shape of you.

Your heart is picking up, Venom noted, smug. You are looking at her tits.

“I’m not–”

Yes, you are.

Suguru’s brows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching before he turned his head toward the shelves, pretending to study the rows of instant noodles. He took one slow step down the aisle, then another, his fingers brushing over boxes without real interest.

Lower.

“Shut it.”

Lower, Venom repeated, his tone dipping into something filthy. Her thighs are out tonight. Bet they are pleasant.

Suguru’s gaze betrayed him before he could stop it. You’d shifted at the counter, crouching slightly to pull something from the shelf below, the hem of your dress rising just enough to catch the faintest flash of black lace.

He felt it like a gut punch – sudden, hot, and not helped by the low, syrupy rumble of Venom’s laugh in his head.

Lace. Naughty girl. I bet–

“Fuck off,” he snapped out loud, sharper than intended.

Your head shot up from behind the counter, eyes wide, lips parting just slightly in shock. You blinked at him, halfway between startled and confused, and for a second he forgot every excuse he’d been about to make.

Smooth, Venom drawled. She is doubtlessly intrigued by what you are thinking about now.

Suguru clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back at the shelf, grabbing the first thing his hand touched - a box of snack cakes he had no desire to eat. He tucked it into the crook of his arm and kept moving, telling himself he'd play it off, that maybe you hadn't heard the full bite in his tone.

But you had. You continued to watch him, your brow furrowed as if you couldn't decide whether to ask if he was all right or to keep your mouth shut and let him work through whatever was causing him to curse like that.

He took his time at the shelves, tossing a few more random items into his arm: a pack of jerky, a bag of chips, and a couple of bottles from the cooler.

The bomber jacket creaked faintly when he reached up for something higher, the shift pulling the white tee tighter across his stomach and chest. He could feel your eyes now – or maybe he just imagined it – but the effect was the same.

She’s looking. You feel it, don’t you?

“No,” he muttered, entirely unconvincing.

She is. And she’s wondering if you noticed her panties.

Suguru tightened his grip on the pile of junk food, teeth set. “Enough.”

I think she wants you to notice.

The image hit before he could stop it – your thighs parting, that black lace stretching – and he had to shift his weight just to keep from looking obvious about how his jeans suddenly felt too tight.

You could bend her over the counter, Venom purred. Pull that little dress up–

“I said shut up.”

This time it came out louder again, not quite a bark but enough to make you glance over sharply from where you were smoothing out the gum display. Your eyes met his for a split second, questioning, before you looked away with a faint shake of your head.

Now she is seeking answers. Venom whispered. You are halfway there.

Suguru ignored him, stalking up to the counter and setting down the pile of food. His pulse was high for reasons he wasn’t going to admit, and when you reached for the scanner, the curve of your neckline caught his eyes again.

He looked away before you could catch him, the heat in his face masked only by the low thrum of irritation still running through him.

“Everything alright?” You asked, your tone neutral but edged with that kind of politeness that could cut if pushed.

“Fine,” he said, his voice a shade too quick.

Venom chuckled deep inside, slow and knowing. She does not believe you. She thinks you are thinking about it.

Suguru’s hand twitched against the counter, nails drumming once before stilling. He forced his gaze to stay on the register screen, but his periphery betrayed him again – the smooth line of your thighs as you shifted your weight, the hem of that dress swaying with the movement.

He swallowed once, hard.

Venom grinned in the darkness of his head. We are going to ruin her.

Suguru lingered at the counter longer than necessary, one hand resting on the edge while you scanned the last of his junk food haul.

His gaze shifted between the register screen and the small curve of your smile, as if he was trying to muster the courage to say something and then backing out at the last second.

The hum of the coolers seemed louder now, the air in the store warmer than it had been when he walked in. He cleared his throat once, shifting his weight, then again when the first attempt didn’t stick.

“You, uh…” His voice came low, almost careful. “I meant to say–sorry about last time. You know. Ghosting you.”

Your eyes slid to his, skeptical in that way you’d perfected, with the faintest pinch at the corner of your mouth.

"Didn't mean to," he said quickly, his fingers drumming against the counter. "Things just got... weird."

You became hungry. Venom purred in his head, the words sliding in like oil under a door. And preoccupied with distraction. And titillated.

Suguru’s jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing briefly before he looked away to grab the plastic bag you’d just set down. “But… I should’ve taken you out like I said I would.”

You should take her now. Right now. Against the–

“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

You caught the flicker of his lips moving, the way his brow furrowed, and your suspicion sharpened. “You okay there?”

“Yeah.” He gave a single, tight nod. “I’m saying–if you’re not busy sometime, we could… Try again. On a day off. Somewhere that isn’t at two in the morning.”

Grueling, Venom sighed. Lead her somewhere private. Somewhere you can lift that little dress and see if the lace is wet.

Suguru’s grip tightened on the bag handles. "Day off," he said aloud, as if he was securing it before his other half could derail him. “Somewhere… normal.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Even cleaned up in the bomber jacket, even standing here trying to string a sentence together like a functioning adult, you couldn’t quite scrub the memory of him crouched in that alley, sweat-slick and eating tater tots with his hands while carrying on a full-blown argument with empty air.

That image had been burned into your mind, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

Still, there was something about the way he looked at you now – not the lazy amusement of before, but a quieter, more awkward sincerity. It looked strange on him, almost disarming.

Your mouth curved slowly, and you nodded slightly. “That’s fine.”

She is picturing it. Venom muttered, amused. Her legs over your shoulders, and her dress around her waist-

Suguru exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring at the register screen as if it were the source of his problems. “Alright then,” he said, his voice tight but steady. “We’ll figure it out.”

You passed the bag over the counter, your fingers brushing his just enough to make his pulse jump.

She is delicate, Venom spoke, savoring it. I believe she tastes–

Suguru was already turning for the door, cutting the voice off before it could finish, but not before the heat crept up the back of his neck.

You watched him leave, suspicious and remembering the alley. But your smile lingered as the bell over the door jingled, and for the first time in weeks, you caught yourself wondering what it might actually be like to say yes.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

That date Suguru planned was just a movie night at his place.

His apartment looked exactly like the kind of place you'd expect from a man who lived off of late-night takeout and convenience store snacks: a small, second-floor walk-up with a lock that stuck and a smell that came mostly from the hallway.

With a slight smile, he gestured you inside as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, as if he were offering you a palace rather than a small, poorly lit room that appeared to have been lived in. Overly lived in.

The smell of something fried permeated the warm, slightly stale air inside. The lights were low, one dim bulb in the kitchen casting a yellow haze across the mess – clothes in a loose pile against the wall, shoes kicked halfway under the couch, and a coffee table covered in receipts and the remains of takeout containers.

The TV remote was balanced precariously on a stack of old mail, and something about the arrangement of pillows suggested he slept out here more often than not.

Your eyes swept the space, catching on details as he toed his boots off by the door. There was a dent in the drywall near the kitchen like someone’s shoulder – or head – had hit it.

One curtain was hanging half off its rod. And in the kitchen, visible past the counter, the evidence hit you like a flashback: three empty bags of frozen tater tots crumpled in a heap near the trash can.

Your brows twitched, suspicion sharpening in your gut. The alley.

“What the fuck…” You mouthed to yourself, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t mind the noise,” Suguru said from behind you, brushing past to toss his keys on the counter.

A loud, pounding bass thudded through the wall from the next apartment over. “The guy next door’s a dick. He’ll turn it down when he passes out.”

You barely had time to answer before his hand came down on your head, fingers sliding lightly through your hair in a gesture that was strangely… easy. Familiar, even. You instinctively hummed in response to the touch, but your gaze remained fixed on the kitchen bags.

He didn’t notice. His palm gave your head a small, warm squeeze before he stepped past, jerking his chin toward the couch.

“Come on. Movie night.”

You followed, still perplexed as to why a grown man would have three empty bags of tater tots after previously seeing him dumpster-diving for them. But the thought was interrupted when you sat down – because the second you did, something shifted.

Suguru dropped onto the cushion next to you, his thigh brushing against yours. He was reaching for the remote when it happened – a sudden, subtle change in the way his body moved, the roll of his shoulder under his jacket almost too fluid.

Venom's voice sank low and possessive within his head. Mine.

Suguru barely had time to react before the thing under his skin pushed forward. Black tendrils, slick and sinuous, unfurled from beneath his jacket sleeve – invisible to you under the heavy fabric – and curled with deliberate weight over his arm.

They slithered higher, tightening briefly around his bicep before coiling down again, twining under the jacket until they spilled toward the gap between you.

Suguru’s breath hitched, subtle but sharp. “Don’t–” he started under his breath.

Venom didn’t listen.

The tendril flexed, broadening until it was a solid band under his sleeve, then slipped up behind you in one smooth, calculated movement. A second later, his arm – or what you thought was his arm – slid over the back of the couch and dropped around your shoulders, the weight settling warm against you as it drew you in, hip to hip, side to side.

You didn’t notice the difference, only the sudden, solid pull of him against you.

Suguru felt every inch of it – the way the tendril mimicked muscle, tightening with a faint, possessive squeeze that wasn’t entirely his own doing. His jaw flexed as he stared at the TV, pretending he was in control while Venom hummed in satisfaction.

Better, the voice hummed. She’s warm.

Suguru exhaled slowly through his nose, resisting the urge to glance down at you tucked into his side. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.

And you like it.

His fingers – real this time – brushed lightly against your upper arm in a casual, almost absent way. But under the jacket, Venom was still coiled, still holding you exactly where he wanted you, every ounce of the contact intentional.

The movie played low on the TV, but Suguru hadn’t absorbed a single frame of it. Not with you pressed against his side like this, your thigh resting warm against his and your head leaning faintly toward his shoulder.

The couch was small enough that you had to sit close, but Venom had made sure you were tucked in–still coiled under his jacket in a way that kept you against him, your scent drifting up in waves that were making it harder for him to breathe evenly.

For a while, he told himself he was fine. He could handle this. You were comfortable, relaxed, maybe even enjoying yourself. And then you shifted just a little closer, your hip brushing his, and Venom’s low, crawling voice rumbled in his head.

She is doing that on purpose.

Suguru kept his eyes on the screen. “She’s watching the movie.”

No, Venom susurrated, she is pressing that pretty body against you so we will notice. She wants us to touch her.

He tensed, jaw tight. "That won't happen," he muttered under his breath.

The thing under his skin stirred, pressing harder into his side. We could have her right now. On your lap. Dress pushed up. Let us show her.

“Shut up,” he hissed, a little louder.

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Did you say something?”

He shook his head quickly, but Venom didn’t back down.

Let me talk to her.

“Not–” The word cut off as the black bled up the left side of his face, slick and liquid, teeth sharpening where there had been none, his left eye turning that inhuman white that caught the glow from the TV.

You froze mid-breath, eyes locked on the sudden transformation.

“Don’t freak out,” Suguru said quickly, turning his head away from you.

Venom ignored him entirely. His mouth—half Suguru’s, half a jagged, grinning maw—parted in a voice that was no longer confined to Suguru’s head. “She is soft. We want her on our tongue.”

Your eyes went wide, the heat crawling up your neck almost faster than the shock could register. “What the hell–”

“She doesn’t need to hear this,” Suguru snapped, clearly arguing with the thing sharing his face.

Venom’s grin widened. “She wants to hear it. Look at her cheeks. Look at her thighs pressing together.”

“I said stop.”

“She is wet,” Venom said, the word coming out like a soft purr that slid between you both. “Bet she tastes like sugar. Bet she wou–”

“Enough!” Suguru’s voice cut sharp, but his tone cracked just enough to make your gaze flick lower–past the tension in his shoulders, down to his lap where the outline in his jeans left nothing to the imagination.

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t meant to look, but the heavy, obvious press of him under the denim made it hard to think about anything else. Suguru caught the way your eyes lingered. His own widened slightly, the black creeping back from his skin as he shifted like he was trying to disguise it. 

“It’s not–” he started, but the rest died in his throat when you looked back up at him, your face flushed, lips parted just enough to let the tiniest hint of a smirk through.

Venom laughed in his head, dark and pleased. Told you she wanted it.

Suguru’s pulse was a hard, steady thud in his chest. “I can explain,” he tried, but his voice had dropped low now, betraying exactly how aware he was of your eyes–and exactly where they’d been.

The air in Suguru’s apartment felt hotter than it had a second ago, heavy enough that every breath caught on your tongue. His half-transformed face–black, slick ink crawling over one side, jagged white teeth glinting in the flicker of the TV–held your gaze like you couldn’t look anywhere else.

His right eye, the human one, locked on you with a sharp, burning focus. The left was swallowed entirely in Venom’s glossy white, no iris, no pupil, just that alien gleam and the faint ripple of muscle beneath the black.

And then his mouth shifted.

Venom surged forward, taking Suguru’s lips and jaw, stretching them into something impossible–wider, hungrier, until a long, thick, glistening tongue slid free, curling in the air with obscene ease. Your eyes widened before you could stop yourself, heat punching through you so hard it stole your breath.

“Oh,” you breathed, and your voice was barely audible over the hum of the movie still playing in the background.

Suguru’s right eye–his eye–flicked up to meet yours. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something in that look, something heavy and knowing, like he’d already felt your pulse spike.

His body moved closer, caught between Venom's smooth, deliberate push and the grounded weight of his own muscle. One moment you were pressed to the couch cushions, the next his hands--large and warm, one still under the sleeve where you knew that slick black was coiled--were guiding your hips.

The couch creaked faintly as you found yourself angled back, knees parting under the weight of his slow advance. His shoulders blocked the TV light for a moment, shadowing you in his height, his breath warm against your bare thighs.

“She smells perfect,” Venom rumbled out loud, the words buzzing deep enough you could feel them in your bones.

Suguru growled low, the sound mixing with the symbiote’s voice until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. The black climbed higher over his jaw, teeth bared in a grin that wasn’t entirely human as he bent down, his nose pressing to the thin barrier of your panties.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers curling instinctively against the cushion. “S-Suguru–”

Venom answered before he could. “Yes. Say it again.” The tongue slid out again, tasting the air, almost brushing you before it pulled back just enough to make you ache for it.

“I–” Your words stuttered, breaking apart when he inhaled deeply against you.

The sound he made was primal, vibrating through his chest. “Sweet,” Venom purred through half his mouth. “We want to taste. All of you.”

Suguru’s eyes–his human eyes–never left yours, even as his head lowered again. The first press of that tongue came slow, deliberate, dragging up the seam of your panties from the edge of your entrance to the sensitive swell of your clit.

Even through the fabric, the heat and wet of it made you jolt, a soft, involuntary whine slipping from your throat.

Your hand moved without permission, threading into his hair–warm, silky strands sliding between your fingers as you gripped just enough to feel the strength in the way he held himself there.

The black ink over his left cheek rippled, Venom’s pleased hum vibrating against you. “More,” the voice urged, muffled slightly by the fabric he licked through.

Suguru’s right hand gripped your thigh, spreading you a little wider. His left–still half-wrapped in black under the jacket–curled tighter over your hip, holding you in place as his tongue flattened and pressed harder, tracing every contour through the damp fabric.

Your breathing came quicker now, chest rising and falling as your fingers tightened in his hair. The wet heat, the slow, obscene drag of that inhuman length against you–it had your legs trembling before you could think to hide it.

“Tell us,” Venom coaxed, his voice vibrating through your core. “Tell us how it feels.”

You swallowed hard, pulse thudding in your ears. “I-It–” Your voice cracked on the next pass of his tongue, the slick heat catching perfectly over the throb in your clit. “It feels–good.”

Suguru’s eye darkened at your answer, his grip on your thigh tightening. Venom purred like the sound was meant for him alone, the tongue moving again, slower this time, savoring every twitch and shiver he pulled from you.

The sound of fabric tearing snapped through the air before you even registered the movement. One second, Suguru’s mouth–Venom’s mouth–was pressing heat through the thin barrier of your panties; the next, your hips were bare, the ripped scrap of lace tossed somewhere behind him. Cool air kissed your soaked folds for only a heartbeat before the slick, black-edged maw dipped back in.

And God, he didn’t hold back.

The first drag of that tongue against your pussy had you choking on a moan, your thighs tightening instinctively around his head. Venom’s growl rumbled against you, deep and guttural, sending vibrations right through your clit. 

“Sweet,” he rasped into your flesh, his voice wet with you. “So appetizing.”

It was sloppy and hungry–nothing careful about the way he ate you, like he meant to drown in it. His sharp teeth glinted whenever his maw opened wide to take more of you, the slick stretch of his jaw obscene as his tongue curled and lapped at every inch. You could feel his nose bumping your clit every time he drove in deeper, the drag of breath and sound between your folds making you dizzy.

Your fingers tangled tighter in Suguru’s hair, gripping hard enough to make him grunt. You rolled your hips up against him, finding the rhythm, matching the pace of that relentless tongue as it circled and pressed into your tight, gummy walls. He pushed in as far as he could reach, then dragged back slowly, letting the tip swirl around your entrance before plunging inside again. Every pull and twist sent shocks of heat up your spine, leaving your thighs trembling.

When you dared to glance down, his eyes were already locked on yours–half of his face still human, Suguru’s dark gaze heavy and intent, the other half split wide in Venom’s grin, teeth glistening, chin wet with your slick. You could barely breathe under the weight of that stare.

And then your gaze fell lower.

One of his hands was braced on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The other–bare, long fingers gripping at the waistband–was shoving down his jeans and boxers in one motion. The fabric bunched around his thighs, and your breath caught hard when you saw him.

Thick. Pretty. His cock curved heavy toward his stomach, the flushed pink head glistening faintly, a bead of precum at the tip. The skin was pale where his fingers gripped the base but darker in the middle and spiraling up from there–black markings, curling patterns that looked like they were part of him now, twisting around the base like ink burned into flesh.

He cursed under his breath, Suguru’s voice gritting out between your thighs. “Fucking–stop showing her that–”

Venom only growled in response, rutting his hips forward against the couch cushion, the movement making his mouth drag hard over your clit. Your cry caught in your throat, your hips jerking up into his face as his tongue shoved back inside you, twisting deep and curling against the spongy spot that had your vision going white at the edges.

Your fingers gripped his hair even harder, the muscles in your arms trembling as you held him to you. The slick sounds of him eating you out filled the room–wet, obscene, and punctuated by the low, greedy groans vibrating through his chest.

“Keep her right there,” Venom rumbled, tongue moving in quick, deliberate circles inside your pussy, nose grinding your clit. “She’s going to come. I can feel her.”

You could feel it too–tightening, coiling low, every roll of your hips meeting the exact tempo he set, every lick and push making it harder to think.

And beneath you, you could feel the shift of his hips as Suguru–half growl, half man–kept rutting lazily into the couch, his cock flushed and throbbing, desperate for the same kind of wet heat he was pulling from you.

Venom pulled back without warning, a slick pop of his tongue leaving you clenching around nothing. The symbiote’s grin curled against your inner thigh, his voice molten in the air between your legs. “Let him taste.”

And just like that, the black receded from his mouth, sliding back along his cheek and jaw until you were staring at Suguru’s face–his lips swollen and wet, chin glistening with your slick. His dark eyes focused on your pussy as if it were the only thing in the room.

His breath hitched as he leaned in, the first slow drag of his tongue making his lids flutter. “Fuck–” The groan that followed was guttural, spilling right into you. His hands came up to grip your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you open for him.

“God, you taste…” His voice trailed into another groan, his eyes rolling back briefly before focusing on you again. “Sweet. So sweet, baby.”

He was different from Venom–less brutal hunger, more intent, more savoring. He licked you as if he wanted to remember every texture and twitch of his tongue. Long, unhurried strokes from your entrance to your clit, flattening his tongue to drag over you, then curling the tip to tease at the slick heat just inside.

Every lap left his mouth wetter, his groans vibrating against your folds until you were shivering.

You reached for him without thinking, your hand sliding into his hair, fingers curling in the silk. “Sugu–” The name fell from you like a gasp, your hips lifting into his mouth.

That pulled a low, frightening sound from his throat, and his grip on your thighs tightened.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your clit, the words hot and damp. He closed his mouth around you, sucking gently, then harder, circling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bundle of nerves until you were keening.

The wet sounds filled the room–slick, obscene, broken only by his quiet curses and your breathless moans. Every time you gasped his name, his mouth seemed to get more desperate, more determined to pull you under.

Then the black surged forward again, creeping over his cheek and jaw, sliding between his lips until the mouth on you was Venom’s once more–wider, wetter, the tongue thicker, longer.

“She is going to come,” Venom growled, and the tongue speared inside you, filling you in ways that made your back arch and your nails bite into Suguru’s scalp.

“Let her,” Suguru groaned from somewhere under the voice, his words muffled by your pussy. He latched his lips–Venom’s lips–around your clit again, circling with that impossible tongue even as it curled deep inside, stroking at your sweetest spot.

“Sugu—oh my God–” you cried out, your voice breaking as your hips rocked into his face, every nerve alight, the heat coiling impossibly tight with each relentless lick and thrust.

His eyes–one human dark, one alien white–looked up at you through the mess of it all, and you felt yourself teeter right on the edge, your thighs trembling in his grip as his mouth worked you like you were the only thing worth tasting.

Your body snapped tight before you could even warn him. The pressure had been building with every wet drag of his mouth and every thick curl of Venom’s tongue inside you, and now it was surging up too fast to stop. Your fingers fisted in Suguru’s hair, pulling him harder against you as your hips bucked, chasing the heat that had your vision sparking.

“Sugu–hnngh, ah, fu–” Your head tipped back into the couch as your thighs trembled around his head.

That was all it took for him to groan into you, low and filthy, one hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his own cock. He stroked himself hard, his fist slick with precum, the sound of it mixing with the obscene mess between your legs. His hips rocked into his hand in short, needy jerks, but his mouth never left you.

He kissed your pussy like he was trying to worship it–soft presses to your folds, lips dragging over your clit in between long, lingering licks that had you whining. Then he used both thumbs to spread you open, holding you there so he could see everything, tongue plunging deep again before curling up to flick over your sweetest spot.

The slick sounds were filthy, wet, and shameless, punctuated by the little muffled growls that rolled out of him every time you tightened around his tongue.

Then Venom pushed forward again, spilling black onto Suguru's lips and stretching his mouth wide. The tongue on your clit grew thicker and heavier, swirling tight circles with impossible precision as the rest of it pressed inside, fucking into you in slow, strong strokes.

Your back arched sharply, a choked sound leaving your throat as your orgasm tore through you–hot, hard, relentless. You saw white behind your eyelids, stars dancing in the edges of your vision as you trembled, your grip on his hair almost desperate.

Suguru’s groan vibrated right against your clit, his fist working his cock faster now, chasing his own release as he fingered you through it–two thick digits pumping in and out of you, curling in perfect rhythm with Venom’s tongue.

The sensation was overwhelming and raw, the mix of human heat and alien skill pulling every last aftershock from your body until you were slumped against the couch, gasping.

Venom hummed against you, pleased, and you could feel Suguru’s mouth–both his and not–smile faintly against your overstimulated clit before giving it one last, slow lick, like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

Suguru didn’t give you a chance to breathe before he was hauling you up into his arms, his strength making it effortless.

Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, instinctive, locking at the ankles as his big hands slid under you–palms full of the soft flesh of your ass. His fingers dug in strongly enough to bruise, pulling you flush against the thick line of his cock trapped between you.

His mouth was his own again, but it was still slick from Venom’s work, and he crashed it to yours in a kiss that was deep, messy, and desperate. His groan spilled into you as his tongue slid against yours, the sound shivering straight down your spine.

You could feel the subtle tremor in his chest with every exhale, the way his body seemed to vibrate between holding back and losing control completely.

The head of his cock pressed between your soaked folds as he walked, the slow grind dragging his flushed length through your wet heat. Every brush over your clit had him groaning low, the sound catching in his throat. 

“Fuck–” he muttered against your lips, the word breaking into something closer to a whimper when you rolled your hips against him. “You’re–god, you’re so warm…”

By the time he reached the bedroom, his breathing was ragged, and he was almost trembling with the need to be inside you. He lowered you onto the bed, but only just–your back met the mattress for a second before your hand shot up to grip his hair.

The sharp tug made him hiss, his eyes fluttering half-shut, a growl building low in his chest. Instead of pulling away, he surged back down, kissing you harder–messy, teeth clashing, his hips rutting against you with enough force that the bed creaked.

His cock slid through your slick again, the swollen head catching at your entrance and dragging up until it nudged your clit, making you shudder.

Suguru’s body caged yours completely, his weight heavy over you, his knees digging into the mattress as he shoved you up toward the headboard.

The heat of him was everywhere–his breath hot against your cheek, his chest pressing to yours, the blunt head of his cock parting you so gradually you could feel every vein drag over your entrance.

Even like this, with your thighs locked around his waist and your nails digging crescents into his biceps, he was only pushing in a few inches at a time. You were already stretched tight around him, the stretch burning in that addictive, toe-curling way that made your toes curl into the sheets.

“Fuck–” Suguru’s voice cracked, his head dipping to press his forehead against yours, sweat dampening the loose strands of hair falling around his face. “You’re–tight. God, you’re so fucking tight, baby.”

“She is quintessential,” Venom rumbled, his voice thick with hunger, the sound vibrating against Suguru’s skull. “We are going to fill her up. Make her drip.”

You shuddered at the sound, your walls fluttering around him, and Suguru groaned like he felt it everywhere.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice low and hoarse, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah, we are.”

He pushed another inch in, your wetness clinging to him as his hips rolled forward, slow but relentless. You could feel every pulse of him inside you, every twitch, and the pressure only built when he pulled back just enough to push deeper again, the head of his cock pressing right against that soft, sensitive spot that made your vision flash.

Your nails clawed at his biceps, dragging down over the hard swell of muscle as your back arched.

“S-Sugu–” you gasped, the word breaking when his hips ground against yours, forcing you to take more of him.

The sound he made was somewhere between a groan and a growl, his voice rough when he spoke. “You feel–fuck–so good, I can’t–”

Breed her, Venom hissed, his tone filthier now, molten in Suguru’s head. She is designed for it. For us. She is going to look so lovely with our cum dripping out.

You clenched around him hard, and Suguru’s jaw snapped tight. “Fuck, don’t–don’t do that unless you want me to lose it,” he warned, though his hips pushed forward again, his cock sliding in another slow inch.

Venom’s chuckle was deep and knowing. She wants it. She is milking us for it already.

Suguru’s head tipped back, a groan ripping out of him, his hips jerking as if he couldn’t control the urge to sink deeper. “God–yeah, she fucking does…”

Your breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and your nails tightened in his skin as you tried to take more of him, despite the fact that your body was nearly stretched to its limit.

He still wasn’t even all the way in. and you could already feel him everywhere–thick, hot, throbbing deep inside you while the rest of him pulsed against your slick folds.

And when his hips drew back just enough to slam forward with a heavy, wet sound, your body gave a sharp jolt, the sheer force of it making your mind spin.

Suguru’s gaze dropped to your stomach, his voice ragged. “Fuck–look at you, taking me–”

"It is not enough," Venom cut in. “We are going to keep her here, push her knees up, and fuck her until she cannot think about anything else.”

Suguru’s mouth twisted into a dark, bliss-drunk smirk. “Yeah,” he panted, eyes fixed on yours, “we are.”

Suguru didn’t even give you the chance to breathe before he adjusted his grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he shoved your knees up toward your chest.

The change in angle made the thick head of his cock press right up against your deepest spot, and you gasped–sharp, involuntary–your back arching off the bed as your nails raked down his biceps.

Suguru’s jaw clenched, sweat dripping from his temple as he folded himself over you, chest to chest, your legs pinned up against you by his weight. His cock was still buried halfway; your pussy stretched so tight around him it felt like you were molding to his shape. Every subtle pulse of him inside you had your toes curling into the sheets.

“Fucking–perfect,” he groaned, his voice shaking.His eyes remained fixed on your face as he pushed deeper, slowly and brutally, ensuring you felt every inch.. “God, baby… you’re so warm. I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”

Your breath hitched at the rawness in his voice.

“Sugu–”

The moment the nickname fell from your lips, he groaned as if you had pulled it directly from his chest. His hips jerked forward, burying another inch of him inside you until you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

She is taking us so nicely, Venom’s voice rumbled, sending a shiver down Suguru’s spine. Look at her. She is meant for it. For this.

“Yeah…” Suguru’s head dipped to kiss you hard, your muffled whine making his cock throb inside you. He swallowed the sound, panting into your mouth between words. “You feel so–fuck–good. I can’t–”

Venom cut him off with a guttural purr. Fill her up. Pump her full until she’s dripping.

You could feel Suguru shudder at that, his hips starting to move–deep, slow thrusts that forced you to take all of him, each one punching little gasps out of you. Your walls clung to him like you were afraid to let go, and the stretch burned in the most intoxicating way.

Your nails dug harder into his arms, the muscle under your hands flexing with every thrust. He was so big, so thick inside you, that every push made your vision blur at the edges.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight–” he groaned, his forehead pressing to yours as his pace quickened. “Like you’re trying to milk me already.”

She is. Venom answered for you, his tone sharp with lust. She craves it. Strives to feel us melt inside her.

You let out a broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and Suguru swore under his breath. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m–fuck–already close.”

His thrusts got harder and deeper, the bedframe groaning with each snap of his hips. You were almost folded in half now, every push making you see stars as his cock hit you in places you didn’t even know existed.

“You like this, huh?” He breathed against your cheek, his voice strained with effort. “Me holding you open like this? Stretching you out until you can’t think?”

Your answer came in a shaky whimper of his name, your hands sliding up to clutch his shoulders.

She is going to give way, Venom purred, his voice vibrating in both your heads. And we’re going to make her.

Suguru groaned, his hips rolling deeper and slower, grinding against your sweet spot until your gaze rolled away.

“Yeah, baby,” he muttered, “I’m gonna fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow. Fill you up ‘til you’re dripping.”

The combination of his words, Venom’s filth, and the relentless drive of his cock had you teetering right on the edge again–your body arching into him, your breath breaking into short, needy gasps as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter.

“Come on,” Suguru gritted, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force now. “Give it to me. Cum for me while I’m inside you. Make a mess on me.”

Suguru had you pinned under him so tight you could barely move, the full weight of his body folding you in half, knees pressed almost to your chest.

Every deep, deliberate thrust made you feel like you were being split open, the blunt head of his cock dragging against every tender spot inside you.

You were right there–your body screaming to let go–but the intensity had you shaking your head against the pillow, breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“Ah–ah, I–can’t,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

His hips slowed just enough to grind into you, making you feel the full, thick length of him press against that sweet spot inside you, hard and unyielding.

“You can,” he breathed, his voice low and hoarse against your ear. “Fuck–look at you, taking me all the way–”

Venom’s laugh slithered through his head, deep and filthy. She is going to explode. Push deeper; let her feel it in her stomach.

Suguru shifted his weight, tightening his grip on your thighs and angling his hips just so, before driving forward in a slow, brutal thrust that bottomed out inside you.

You cried out, the sound high and raw, your eyes flying wide when you felt it–his cock pressing so deep there was a faint bulge in your lower belly.

“There it is,” Suguru groaned, one hand releasing your thigh to press lightly over that spot, the other still holding you open. “You feel that? That’s me–inside you. Right here.”

You whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, and your nails clawed at his biceps for something to ground you. The stretch, the fullness, the way his voice dropped even lower–it all had your walls fluttering desperately around him.

Play with her, Venom urged, his tone thick with satisfaction. Make her cum all over us.

Suguru’s thumb slid down between you, finding your clit with ease. The first slow, deliberate circle sent your back arching off the bed, the pressure inside you doubling as he buried himself to the hilt.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, eyes locked on your face. “Let it happen. You’re so close–I can feel you squeezing me.”

You shook your head again, but your hips betrayed you, grinding up into his thumb as the heat built sharper and hotter.

His thrusts started again, slow and deep, each one punctuated with that perfect grind of his pelvis against you, his thumb working your clit with maddening precision.

Your breath came faster, your thighs trembling in his grip. “S-Sugu–oh my–”

“Yeah,” he groaned, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your skin. “That’s it. Cum for me. Make a mess of it, baby.”

The coil inside you snapped hard, pleasure ripping through you in waves so intense your vision blurred. You screamed his name, your nails digging so deep into his arms you felt the muscle flex under your grip.

Your pussy tightened around him, milking him, and you could feel him shudder, his own groan breaking as he fucked you through it, his thumb never leaving your clit.

Venom roared in the back of his head, triumphant. Good girl.

Suguru’s hips kept rolling, chasing every last tremor out of you until you were slumping against the bed, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. He was still inside you, throbbing, the bulge in your belly pulsing with every heartbeat of his cock.

Your body was still quivering from the aftershocks when Suguru planted both hands on either side of your head, his broad frame blocking out everything but him. The muscles in his arms flexed under your grip, the cords in his neck standing out as he bit back a groan.

His thrusts deepened–slower, heavier–each one punching a needy sound out of your mouth. He was trying to be gentle, but his cock was swelling inside you, that thick stretch only becoming more unbearable in the best way.

The head kept kissing your cervix with each roll of his hips, and the sensation had your nails biting harder into his skin.

“Gonna fill you,” he panted against your lips, his breath hot, his voice so wrecked it was almost a whimper. His forehead rested against yours, sweat making his loose hair stick to his cheek. “Gonna–fuck–give you all of it.”

Venom’s purr slid between you both, vibrating against Suguru’s skull. Breed her. Pump her full until she bursts.

His eyes–dark, glassy–fluttered shut for a second, his hips stuttering. “Yeah,” he breathed, almost to himself, “yeah, we will.”

The heat in your belly coiled tighter with each deep push, but you could feel the change in him–the way his rhythm lost its careful pace, hips snapping harder, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the bedroom over the wet drag of him inside you.

His mouth found yours, kissing you deeply, his groans melting into your moans until you couldn’t tell which were yours and which were his.

And then he broke.

Suguru’s hips locked tight to yours, his cock buried to the hilt, the thick throb of his release pumping into you so deep you could feel the hot gush filling every inch. His groan cracked into something closer to a growl, muffled against your lips as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you flush to him to take every drop.

The room was filled with the sound of your mingled breaths, the faint slap of the headboard shifting, and the wet, sticky press of him still inside you.

But he didn’t pull out.

Venom surged forward before you could catch your breath, the black crawling over his shoulders, his jaw, and his cheeks. You felt it first in his cock–it swelled, stretching you impossibly wider, the girth pressing hard against your walls as if it were molding you to fit him.

Your gasp was cut short when he flipped you with dizzying speed, your back hitting the mattress for a heartbeat before you were straddling him.

“Ride,” Venom’s voice came out of his mouth now, deeper and more commanding than Suguru’s. His hands—huge, the nails sharper now—gripped your hips and pulled you down, impaling you on his length in one smooth movement.

Your head fell back with a loud, shameless moan, your palms splaying over his sweat-slick chest. His abs were hard under your hands, flexing each time he thrust up into you, the muscles in his arms bunching as he used his grip to bounce you on him.

The sound of the room was obscene—your wetness squelching with every movement, the rhythmic slap of your ass meeting his thighs, and the bed creaking in protest.

Suguru’s voice fought to break through Venom’s dominance, his words ragged under the symbiote’s.

“F-fuck–look at you, baby–”

You did, and it nearly undid you again. His human half was flushed, strands of damp hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes hooded but burning into yours. The other half of his face was all jagged teeth and black sheen, that alien white eye unblinking.

His grip shifted higher, fingers curling under the hem of your dress. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, pooling uselessly at your sides, leaving you bare except for your bra. You barely had time to breathe before your breasts were ripped away, bouncing free.

One of his hands cupped you immediately, rough palm and sharp nails dragging over your nipple until it peaked, the other hand squeezing your hip as he thrust up harder. His mouth–Suguru’s mouth again, for just a second–latched onto your breast, sucking deep before biting gently, his groan vibrating through you.

Venom’s voice slid out between kisses and sucks, “Look at her face–look at how she is fond of it. Lewd little thing.”

And you did look lewd–eyes glassy, mouth parted, every sound spilling from your throat high and sweet as your hips rolled against him. Each thrust made your body jolt, your tits bouncing in his hands, his cock hitting so deep you could swear you felt him in your throat.

The mixture of Suguru’s human heat, his desperate groans, and Venom’s unrelenting control had you grinding harder, chasing the next wave with everything you had.

Your thighs were already trembling, muscles burning from the pace he’d forced on you, but Suguru’s hands on your hips kept you moving, dragging you up his length and slamming you back down until you were choking on every gasp.

His cock felt impossibly thick, stretching you around the swollen head with each rise, filling you so deep on every drop that your vision kept flashing white.

The bed groaned with the rhythm, your slick gushing down his shaft and onto his lap, the squelch of your pussy audible in the air between the wet slap of skin on skin. Sweat rolled down his temple, his head falling back against the pillows, throat exposed as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each rough breath.

“God–baby, keep going,” he rasped, voice shaking. His fingers dug bruises into your hips as he pushed you harder, chasing the slap of you meeting him. “Feels too good–fuck–don’t stop.”

You shook your head, breathless, tears prickling in your eyes. “S-Sugu–I can’t–”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, but the strain in his voice gave him away. His hips started snapping up to meet yours, pounding into you from below, the force rattling through your entire body.

The angle had him grinding right into your sweet spot, and the constant drag caused your walls to spasm around him unexpectedly. Your nails dug into his slick chest for balance as you clenched down tight.

Suguru’s entire body jolted. A broken, wrecked sound tore out of him–half a groan, half a choked sob–as his head snapped forward, eyes wide and glassy.

“F-fuck–” His voice cracked, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“You are crying,” Venom’s voice slid out, coy and mocking, the white eye blinking lazily up at you. “Look at you. You cannot even handle her squeezing you.”

Your vision was blurred from more than just tears, and your lips curled into a weak, breathless laugh as your hips attempted to ride him despite the trembling in your thighs. “Sugu–”

“Don’t–don’t tease me right now,” he gasped, but his hips were still driving up into you, chasing every flutter of your cunt like he couldn’t get enough.

His hands slid higher, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples before squeezing them greedily. The combination of the sharp pleasure and the fullness inside had you moaning through your laughter, the sound shaky and high.

Venom’s chuckle was low and wet in the room. “She is laughing at you.”

“I’m–fucking–close,” Suguru panted, almost pleading, his eyes rolling back for a second when you clenched again.

You could feel it–the way his cock swelled and throbbed inside you, the telltale rhythm of his hips faltering before slamming up into you hard enough to knock a whimper from your lips. He groaned, the sound shattering into a whine as heat spilled deep inside you, thick and hot, flooding you until you could feel it leak.

“Ah–fuck–” His hands gripped your tits harder as he rode it out, hips thrusting up in slow, deliberate rolls, like he wanted to push every drop back inside. His lashes were damp, his breath uneven, and his voice cracked when he murmured, “Stay–stay right there, don’t–don’t let it out.”

Venom didn’t miss the moment to twist the knife. “Piteous. Weeping while you fill her.”

You were too dazed to care, the haze of pleasure making you giggle softly even as you moaned from the aftershocks. Your hips twitched weakly over him, the lazy grind making him hiss, his cock still sensitive but unwilling to leave the tight clutch of your pussy.

Suguru groaned again, almost pained with how much he wanted to keep it there, and Venom’s mocking purr filled the air while you leaned forward against his chest, still laughing breathlessly, still shivering from the mess he’d made of you.

You were still catching your breath, your forehead resting against his chest, when Suguru’s hands slid up your back and pulled you into a kiss. It wasn’t neat or practiced–just hot, wet, and messy, both of you tasting each other’s moans between shallow, panting breaths.

His lips moved like he didn’t care how sloppy it got, his tongue sliding against yours in slow, filthy strokes, a low groan rumbling in his chest each time you sucked on it.

The weight of him shifted, his big hands gripping your hips as he rolled, flipping you beneath him in one smooth movement. Your back met the mattress again, and his body came down over yours, pressing you into the sheets without breaking the kiss.

The sheer size of him over you, his hair falling in loose, sweat-damp strands around your face, made it impossible not to fist your hands in it.

You tugged hard, and he groaned into your mouth–low, almost pained, his cock twitching deep inside your still-sensitive cunt from the jolt of pleasure. The sound was enough to make your grip tighten, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp, and his hips jerked again, unplanned, sending a slow gush of his cum deeper into you.

“Fuck–” He broke the kiss to pant against your lips, eyes half-lidded but fixed on you. “Do that again.”

You tugged harder, and his jaw went slack, a shiver running through him as he twitched inside you again.

His forehead pressed to yours, Suguru’s breath came heavy as he coaxed, almost pleading, “Shhh… ignore him. Just me now,” in a low, shaking voice–chasing Venom back into the quiet of his mind until it was only him leaning down to kiss you again.

One of his hands slid between your bodies, spreading your legs wider until you were completely open for him. His fingers found your clit easily, slick and swollen, and the first slow circle had you gasping into his mouth.

His touch was steady but purposeful, dragging over the sensitive bundle in a rhythm that had you rocking up into him without realizing it.

Inside, he was still pulsing–every twitch another thick drip of warmth leaking out of him and into you. He could feel it, too, the way you fluttered around him each time his fingertip pressed just right, making his hips stutter as overstimulation crawled up his spine.

“God, you’re… fuck, you’re sucking me dry,” he groaned, his voice cracking as another spasm hit him and he spilled into you again, smaller gushes that made him groan through his teeth.

Your hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling and twisting as you kissed him harder, tasting the raw edge in his breathing. Every tug had his cock jerking inside you, every grind of his hips pushing more of his mess deeper.

The room smelled like sex and sweat, the sound of your kisses loud and unrestrained, his breath catching each time you toyed with his hair like you knew exactly what it did to him.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered against your mouth, but he didn’t stop touching you, didn’t stop rocking into you slow and deep, chasing every twitch and spill like he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you empty.

 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

It had been a few weeks since you’d started officially seeing Suguru, though “officially” was a loose term when you factored in the monster living inside him. You’d gotten used to the late nights, the messy apartment, and the way he always looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing. But you hadn’t–couldn’t–get used to this.

Your knees dug into the mattress, arms trembling where they braced against his bedframe, and back arched as something far thicker than fingers curled inside you.

The wet, obscene sound of it filled the small bedroom–slick and constant, a lewd reminder of the black, oil-slick tentacles 

Venom had split from himself to bury deep in your cunt. They writhed and flexed with unnerving precision, curling against every tender, oversensitive part inside you, the ridges along them dragging over your walls as you choked out another moan.

Suguru was behind you, his chest warm against your back, the sweat on his skin smearing against yours with each subtle grind of his hips.

His mouth moved over your shoulder blades, down the curve of your spine, pressing kisses that quickly turned into bites. You felt the drag of his teeth, the wet seal of his mouth as he marked you, sucking hard enough to leave fresh bruises blooming over the fading ones from last time.

“That’s it, baby… you’re taking it so good,” Suguru’s voice was low and rough, praise spilling against your skin in heavy breaths. His big hands held your hips steady while Venom’s tentacles pushed deeper, each thickened length twisting inside you until your eyes rolled back.

“My perfect girl. Made for me.”

Before you could shudder out his name, his voice shifted–distorted, darker–Venom sliding in to take over his mouth without warning.

“Made to be fucked,” it growled, the words filthy and sharp, cutting through the praise like a blade. “You are dripping down your thighs like a little nympho.”

You gasped, your nails digging into the mattress, half from the humiliation, half from the way the tentacles flexed in perfect rhythm with the taut grinding deep before curling against your sweetest spot until your legs shook.

Suguru’s groan rumbled against your shoulder as he wrestled control back, his lips moving over the place Venom had just spoken from. 

“Ignore him,” he panted, kissing where the words had landed. “You’re gorgeous. You’re–fuck–” His own voice cracked as another tentacle slid out, only to push back in even harder, causing the bedframe to groan.

Venom’s laughter was low and cruel in his throat. “She relishes it. Look at her, pleading for more.”

Your breath hitched, vision blurring as fresh tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, falling hot down your cheeks. Your hips twitched against Suguru’s grip, desperate despite yourself, the relentless stretch leaving your whole body trembling.

The tentacles didn’t let up–thick, wet spirals working in and out of you while smaller tendrils teased at your clit, rubbing in tight, maddening circles that had you gasping into the sheets.

Suguru kissed the wet tracks of your tears, his teeth grazing the slope of your neck as his hips rocked against your ass, the sound of your slick and the squelching tentacles echoing in the room.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured against your ear, breath shuddering as he watched you fall apart. “Mine.”

Venom’s voice rolled over his in the next heartbeat, low and taunting. “Ours.”

The tentacles didn’t slow when Suguru moved down between your legs, his broad hands sliding over the curve of your ass to spread you open for his hungry gaze.

The black, wet tendrils pumped in and out of you in a cruel rhythm, stretching you so far that you could feel every ridge and twist. He groaned at the sight, his breath hot against the slick mess between your thighs, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he held you still.

“God, you’re–” His voice broke off into a strained growl, his lips parting just enough for his breath to fan over your throbbing clit. “You’re perfect like this.”

Venom pulsed in his veins, vibrating in his chest, the tentacles reacting to every twitch of his thoughts.

“Taste her,” the symbiote rumbled, voice dripping with hunger. “She is going to overflow your mouth. You know she will.”

Suguru didn’t argue this time. He lowered his mouth, his tongue pressing flat and hot over your clit, the sudden contact dragging a strangled moan from your throat. His nose bumped against you with each swipe, and the tentacles seemed to sense his pace, curling inside you in sync with his tongue.

The combined sensations had you squirming, but his grip was iron–keeping you in place while he lapped at you like he was starving, groaning into your pussy when your hips jerked forward.

The sound of it was obscene: the slick squelch of the tentacles, the wet suck of his mouth, the choked noises leaving your lips.

Your thighs shook violently, the tension in your stomach snapping with a sudden, overwhelming release that had you screaming into the sheets. It hit hard–liquid heat rushing out of you in a burst you couldn’t control, splashing against his mouth and chin as your whole body convulsed.

Suguru didn’t pull back. If anything, he doubled down, groaning loud and deep as he tasted you, drinking every drop while the tentacles kept you trembling.

Your legs kicked against the mattress, heels stomping in short, helpless bursts, but he stayed locked on you–tongue stroking over your clit as your squirts grew weaker and your voice cracked around high-pitched cries.

When you finally collapsed forward, boneless and gasping, he released you from his hold, kissing the swollen, overstimulated heat between your thighs one last time before pulling back with a deep inhale. His lips were wet, his chin was dripping, and he was panting like he’d just run himself into the ground.

He pressed his palms under your hips and lifted you effortlessly, his chest heaving as he placed you fully on the bed.

The tentacles finally slipped away from you, returning to him with a wet slide that left you aching and empty. Your slick glistened down your thighs, and he grabbed a nearby towel without even looking, crouching between your legs again to gently clean you up. 

His hands were warm, his touch gentle despite the feral look in his dark eyes, and he smoothed his palm over your thigh when he noticed the faint tremors that were still affecting your legs.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, voice rough but tender as his thumb stroked over your skin. “We’ve got you.”

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