🩷hi, it’s jazz! 🩷requests are closed!!!

Especially when you look so damn good. You visited a hair salon this morning to get the perfectly seductive curls, pinning them up into a high bun with rivets and wisps of curls cascading down from your up-do. It goes perfectly with your wine red cocktail dress–body-hugging, sexy, and has a high slit at the thigh. You paired it with some Loboutine heels and your favorite MAC lipstick. 

Perfect for seducing a certain vigilante. 

You press two fingers to your right ear, right against the tiny ear piece that could be mistaken for an earring stud. “Testing, testing, 1, 2,” you speak into the earpiece. “This is Nightowl about to enter the vicinity. Target not yet in sight.” 

There is a bit of fuzz and then a familiar voice belonging to one of your fellow agents. “Roger that, Nightowl. We’ll be in the building as soon as you give the signal. Target should be inside.” 

You feel that familiar stomach flip; the one you usually get before a mission that often vanishes by the time it begins. Nowadays, you don’t get nervous anymore having done this for years. You learn to adapt and to sneak, turning into someone else for the time being until the mission is complete. “Roger. Over and out.” 

You square your shoulders and slink into that seductive, secretive persona that you keep in your closet for missions like these. Any mission where you must seduce someone and take them off guard is when you pull her out–the mysterious, sly sex kitten that knows what she wants and how to get it. Nobody can resist her…not even a certain bat-based vigilante taking over Gotham City. 

With a strut in your step and a sway in your hips, you walk over to the museum and walk up the steps to the double doors. Every click of your Loboutine heels prepares you for tonight’s festivities. Everything that can and might happen. Everything that you either are or aren’t prepared for.

You love nights like these. You crave for them. You feel electric as you walk into the museum, smiling when you hand the host your invite. You notice the way he checks out the curve of your tits in your dress and the shape of your red lips. He barely checks your ticket because he’s too busy checking you out. 

You smile and bat your lashes, thanking him. This means your job should go easy tonight. 

When you fully step into the museum lobby converted into a party room, it is in full swing and brimming with luxury, excitement and the energy of the rich, nightlife crowd. The room is surrounded by glass cases of history on display: historical artifacts, old paintings, gems and jewels glittering with temptation. All for the taking. 

You would gladly snatch up all of them if you could, but you’re after just one in particular. 

It is shockingly easy for you to blend in, but then again, as a renowned agent and jewel thief, you know exactly how to do so. It makes it easy to slink past staff and security to the ‘Staff Only’ room and snatch a random employee tag. 

You pin it to your dress and slink back out to the party without anyone noticing, the weight of your secret weapons strapped to your thigh and in your purse grounding you. 

As soon as you walk back out into the party, you are bombarded by the sound of a live band playing and the aura of luxury. It is all around you—on the snack table where a crystal bowl of punch and champagne flutes sit; in the tasteful decorations; the conversations and laughs of the guests decked out in their best designer

You keep your clutch close to your side, your little Glock hidden beneath your switchblade shaped as a lipstick tube…and your lipstick. You can’t ever leave the house without your MAC. You press your fingers to your ear again, keeping your voice low. “Night Owl within the vicinity. Target not in sight yet.”

You begin to look around the room, scanning it to find the man of the hour. You studied his appearance for weeks before coming here. Though you have no idea what he’ll be wearing tonight, you know that once you see him, you’ll know that it’s him. 

And sure enough, you do. You find him sitting at the bar in a tailored black suit, all long legs and looking so tall and big even while sitting. He is nursing a club soda in his big hand as he reads off a pamphlet about the upcoming presentation tonight and tonight’s auctioned items, his blue eyes shifting as he reads. 

There he is: Nightwing, in the flesh. You feel your throat tighten and your heart pound against your ribcage. Your agency has been on this man’s tail for months the same way he has been on theirs, tracking down his real identity. When they finally found him, your boss slapped his manila folder on your desk and smiled at you. “We got him,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.” 

Nightwing has been a thorn in your boss’ side for months now, cracking down on his most skilled agents and traffickers. Every Gotham newspaper shows a new arrest on the front page, courtesy of Nightwing and his stupid tight spandex suit and charming grin. No one has ever seen him out of his mask or suit…except for now. And you are more than excited to expose him tonight. 

Smuggling is an art form itself. It requires much time and discipline. Being a spy is exactly the same, requiring a precise form and act that makes you your boss’ top spy at his underground agency. 

Which is why he chose you for the job. If anyone can get Nightwing on a silver platter, it’s you. You’re more than happy to do so. Anyone ruining your job and chances at getting your hands on some more pretty prizes is evil in your eyes. 

The plan is simple: get the man comfortable, perhaps get some drinks in him, seduce him enough to take your offer for privacy in the basement, and then bam! He gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you get your hands on the museum’s newest find: a diamond worth millions. One of history’s finest artifacts recently dug up and shipped here. Never before seen. 

With the taste of danger and another pretty thing in your roster on your tongue, you strut over to the undercover vigilante and take a seat next to him, catching his attention immediately. It’s almost comical. You give him a small smile of acknowledgement as you place your clutch on the polished bar. 

You then wave your manicured nails at the bartender, flashing the vigilante your glossy, red nails. “Bartender, a Brandy Alexander, please.” The woman in the white and black uniform nods, getting started on your drink. You sit in silence for a moment, both of you testing the other to make the first move. 

You glance at Nightwing, eyeing him curiously as he pretends to read the pamphlet sitting in his lap. His pants seem to stretch across his muscular thighs…not that you’re checking him out. “So are you gonna say something or just act like you’re not staring at me?” he asks without looking up at you. 

You blink at him, taken aback. “Sorry?” He finally turns to look at you, smirking, his blue eyes devastatingly pretty. Damn him. “Pardon the bluntness. I had a glass of champagne earlier. But I can feel your eyes.”

You raise your brow at him, feeling your own smirk curl onto your lips. “Oh, really? How do you know they were mine?” The vigilante shrugs, sipping his club soda. “I’ve been to parties like this before. Or rather, auctions for historical art pieces and valuables.”

“So have I,” you reply, nodding in thanks when your drink is given to you. The vigilante watches you take a sip, eyes zooming in on your red lips. “Hm. Well, you’re certainly dressed for the part. I notice the name tag. You work here, Ms. London?”

You damn near forget about the fake name on the tag you stole and nod, smiling. “That, I do, uh…” You pretend to look puzzled, pulling an annoyingly attractive chuckle out of him. “Satoru,” he replies. “Gojo.” So your agency’s research was correct. Nightwing and Satoru Gojo, a Gotham-based college thirty-something year old, are, in fact, the same person. 

Quelling the excitable flip in your gut, you shake his hand, ignoring how big and calloused it is. “Pleasure to meet you, Satoru. I’ve been working here for a year now, so dresses like this are the norm for auctions. I’m glad you like it.”

A small blush coats Satoru’s cheeks, making him slightly endearing. He has two sides to himself it seems…or three, counting Nightwing. “Heh. Well, I’m sure everyone does. It looks very…expensive.” You giggle, eyeing his clothes. “As does your suit.”

He quirks a brow at your compliment, happy with the praise. “Ya think so, huh? Guess that Bloomingdale’s employee wasn’t bullshittin’ me then.” He flashes you a white-toothed grin, dimples popping. He is so charming that it’s disarming, making you slightly uncomfortable. You’ve never felt this way about a target before. 

“I can’t say I’ve seen your face around here,” you say, still turning up the heat. After all, this is your job. “I would’ve recognized you as a regular.” You make sure to put a flirty tone in your voice to catch his attention. Sure enough, it does. 

“I’m a lover of the arts. Got an invite from the Gotham Art Museum as a member and took it. Plus, there’s a free bar, so why not?” He smirks, sipping his drink. “That’s usually what brings people in here,” you chuckle. “Unless you’re an art buff.” You sip your drink too, leaving a red stain on the glass. 

Satoru’s eyes flick from the rim to your face, your wicked ways working on him. “Oh, I am. Nothin’ like gettin’ your hands on somethin’ as valuable and precious as a piece of art. A painting, a sculpture. Even the finest jewel.” His tone is so sly; so seductive. He’s trying to work his charm too…but why?

“Oh?” you purr, hiding your suspensions. “How so? Is it the history that turns you on? F-For art, I mean.”

Satoru chuckles at your little intentionally unintentional innuendo, ducking his head in a way that is both boyish and sexy. “Yeah. Plus, they’re just so damn pretty. I mean, look at this necklace here!” He shows you a photo of one of the artifiacts–a gorgeous necklace from 1800 England dripping with sapphires. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks. 

You nod, struggling to not inhale his cologne as he leans in to show you the photo. “It is,” you hum. “There are plenty of more pieces I can show you, if you’re interested.” He eyes you then, his blue eyes like the purest oceans. “Very. Lead the way, Ms. London.” 

You smile as you finish your drink for that liquid confidence and stand. He presents you to his elbow and you take it, trying not to get too excited over how easy this is. It may seem that way, but you need to be on your toes. This could go very wrong in an instant. For example, falling victim to the vigilante’s charms as he smiles at you and leads you around the party. 

You show the items you’ve seen on the museum’s website, feeding him info you researched and bullshit you make up on the spot. He seems to eat it all up, sipping a glass of champagne, even getting one for you to clink his glass against. Satoru doesn’t seem bored by anything you tell him, nodding in interest and slipping in little jokes between your presentations to make you giggle. 

After about two hours of your “roleplay”, things start to accelerate when you’re on your second glass of champagne and back at the bar for a mocktail. You’ll need to at least be semi-sober for this next part. As you’re reaching into your clutch for some cash to pay for your mock martini with olives, someone beats you to it. 

An older gentleman with a horrible combover grins at you, not even trying to hide his lecherous eyes. “Here. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t buy her own drink.” 

He slips you a bill, standing a little bit closer to you than you’d like. “I appreciate that,” you giggle, taking the money from him just as the bartender returns with your drink. “How can I repay you for such a kind act?” 

The old man pretends to think, puckering his lips in a way that you’re sure is supposed to be sexy. “Just your number. I could make sure you don’t have to ruin those feet walkin’ around for your job anymore.” He nods down at your fresh pedicure and designer heels, licking his chapped lips. 

You swallow your repulsion, feeling Satoru’s presence sitting behind you at the bar. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t take numbers from married men.” With joy, you watch the old man’s smile fade and he slinks away, giving you the dirtiest look known to man. Satoru nods, impressed. “You got quite the eye.” You shrug, sipping your crisp mocktail. “When you work here long, you learn to catch on.” 

He reaches over, clinking your glass with his new drink: a Brandy Alexander this time. “I could’ve told ya he was married though,” he chuckles. His laugh is smooth and rich yet deep and lethal, like a shot of whiskey. 

You turn to him, raising a brow at him as you sip your martini. “And how would you know that?” you question. “He didn’t have a ring on his finger.” You only knew because you saw him with his wife when you came in. 

Satoru chortles again as if you’re some dumb little girl he needs to school. “Don’t have to. Rings can come off, ‘specially at events like these.” He takes a sip from his drink, eyeing you across the rim. “There’s plenty of pretty women like yourself swimmin’ around here for the pickin’.” 

His gaze is hot like fire licking across your exposed skin. The air that the old man left tense becomes even more so, but you straighten your neck and regard him with a smirk. “Like me?” you scoff. “I doubt he could’ve even been able to afford me.” 

You take another sip of your martini, leaving a red stain on the rim, before fishing out the toothpick rowed with olives. You pluck one off with your teeth, knowing that he is watching. ‘Just keep up the act. Hook, line, and sinker.’ 

“And how would one afford you?” he asks, curiously glistening in his eyes. “You merchandise? Up for grabs like these beauties here?” You swirl your tongue around in your mouth, sizing him up. You try not to think about how fun it is to flirt with him. To tease him. This is your job. “Depends on how much you’re willing to bet on me.” 

That’s what finally breaks the tension and Satoru’s smile grows rather lustful. “Maybe we can discuss somewhere more private,” he suggests. He slides his hand into yours and you allow it, ignoring how your heart pounds. “You got a room?” 

You take a sip of your drink, smirking. “Plenty,” you giggle. Satoru mirrors your smirk, eyeing you down into your stool. “Little spitfire, ain’t you?”

You laugh as he helps you out of your stool. You do your best to act like your knees aren’t weak and that his touch doesn’t send electric shocks through your body. You tell yourself that it’s just because your mission is going so well. Finally, you’ll get what you want. “So I’ve been told. I’ve got just the place for us though. Follow me before someone knows we left.” 

Satoru nods, his expression like molten fire as his eyes lay on your ass when you walk ahead of him, hand in hand, towards the elevator. The auction is underway so people are preoccupied, meaning it’s easy to sneak away with the vigilante to the basement. 

Minutes later, you’re getting pinned against the basement wall and Satoru’s lips are on yours. He showed surprising self control in the elevator, even when you felt the sexual tension building and his hand on your waist growing tight. The basement is quiet and empty, only filled with supplies and other museum artifacts moved for safe keeping. 

You moan against Satoru’s kiss, his soft lips just as heavy as the darkness descending upon you. The silvery moonlight is the only light cutting through the open window above, illuminating Satoru’s snow white hair and handsome features. His hands cup your face as you grasp his shoulders, welcoming his big frame pressed against yours. 

You’ve kissed many targets before. You’ve even slept with some. Not that you’re proud of it, but it’s the name of the game. However, with Satoru, this doesn’t feel like a simple roleplay or job. His lips are soft and chaste of champagne, making you drunk. It’s so dangerous. You need to stop this now. 

Luckily, the glittering of an object catches both of your eyes, causing you to stop kissing. Satoru keeps his roaming hands on you as he gazes at the glass case of a gorgeous diamond glistening with all kinds of yellows, pinks, and lavenders. “Wait…is that the newest diamond?” he questions. “The one found in a cave in the Himalayas?" 

You nod, slinking your arms around him as you gaze at the diamond. “Yeah,” you purr. “They brought it in a month ago to present tonight.” And if anyone touches it, it will start an alarm. You know from sneaking in here weeks ago for a tour of the museum, committing every room to memory. 

With your eyes trained on Satoru, you give him a lustful stare, body tingling in anticipation. “Now shut up and take off your clothes. Step back a bit for me so I can undress.” Satoru grins and begins to do just that, reaching for his tie as he blindly steps back, the glass case right behind you. 

Click.

You freeze when you feel the cold barrel of a gun in your back, making your muscles tense. “Hold it right there,” an unfamiliar voice croons. “Move one inch and you won’t like what happens next.” You do as he says, not moving, while Satoru glares at the stranger over your head. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses. 

The stranger chuckles, his voice deeper yet softer than Satoru’s. “Now is that anyway to greet your friendly neighborhood vigilante?” he jokes. “‘Specially since I could’ve just left your dumb ass here.” The gun cocks, making you gulp. “Turn around,” he orders. 

Slowly, you turn and sure enough, you’re staring at yet another Gotham vigilante that’s been bugging your boss: Red Hood, in the flesh. Dressed in his red and black uniform, muscles outlined in his suit, his long, black hair cascading down his shoulders and back. A white streak shoots through one lock in his face, right over his indigo eyes peeking over the red mask covering his mouth and nose. 

Satoru glares at the vigilante that seems to be flipped around from the same coin, just a different side. “Seriously, Suguru? You stealin’ my target from me now?”

Target? 

“Don’t use my real name,” Suguru aka Red Hood growls from behind his mask. “And you were ready to fuck my target, Nightwing. Don’t you realize this woman is tryin’ to play you? She wants someone to take the fall while she steals the diamond.” 

Slowly, you turn to stare at Satoru, hoping that you aren’t this stupid. Sure enough, the white-haired man rolls his blue eyes. “Why else would I have come down here so willingly? I’m not that much of a whore, asshole.” 

He turns to you with a smile, popping open his top to reveal the black suit with a big blue bat symbol stuck on his chest. “Pleasure to meet you by the way, Night Owl.” You gape at the bat symbol then at his face. You can’t believe it! You’ve been had! “You…you tricked me,” you hiss. 

Satoru doesn’t even look the least bit apologetic, but why would he? “Sorry, but I couldn’t have you tossin’ me to the cops. I know you ain’t gonna flap your gums about my secret identity…unless you want people to know who you are too.” 

Your eyes widen an inch, your stomach flipping with fear. He’s blackmailing you? “See, I’ve been after you for quite some time now,” he continues, giving you that stupid grin that you want to smack off of him. “You’re the most wanted jewel thief in Gotham. Frankly, I just wanted to see how far you’d think I’d fall for your plan.” 

“Fuck you,” you growl. “Neither one of you is gonna arrest me for this. The cops and Batman are all the same: fuckin’ idiots.” Suguru and Satoru share a look, silently deliberating. “Good thing they got us,” Satoru chuckles. “We’re not as dumb as you think we are, honey.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Suguru hums, the gun still cocked at your head. “You don’t give us superheroes as much credit.” You keep quiet, simpering with anger. How could you be so dumb? How could you be so reckless? So–

Crackle-crackle. “Night Owl!” your fellow agent yells into your ear. “Come in, Night Owl! There’s an initial target! It’s–”

“Tell your people that you know already,” Suguru says, close enough to hear the feedback of the "conspicuous" ear piece in your ear. “And tell them that we’re about to give you an ultimatum. All you have to do is surrender and–” 

POOF!  

The vigilante can’t finish his sentence because he’s getting a mouthful of the pink smoke bomb you slipped out of your bra. It is tiny yet lethal; a new weapon created by the tech department at your agency. It comes right in handy, creating a thick fog that fills the entire basement with pink smoke. “Goddamn!” Satoru coughs. “What the fuck was that?!”

Quickly, you turn around to knock the gun out of Suguru’s hand, the fog allowing you the perfect cover. Then you give him a swipe with your leg, tripping him backwards. Though he perfectly catches himself and kicks his legs back up to stand upright, you’re already pulling a tiny remote from your clutch and aiming it at the ceiling. 

“Sorry to cut this meeting short, fellas,” you chuckle. “But I’ve gotta run. Nice meeting you!” Then with one click, a rope with a hook at the end extends from the remote and punches a hole into the ceiling window. You zoom up right out of the building through the window before releasing and landing on the museum building’s rooftop.

Unfortunately, the fog is a little bit more potent than you realize. It explodes from the broken window, traveling up onto the rooftop. Right under your nose. You breathe it in without even realizing it and begin to cough, your throat and eyes stinging. Those fuck ass scientists! 

Quickly, you hurry to the edge of the building and stare across to a skyscraper. You could zip across that no problem. You could be out of here in just a….whoa. You suddenly feel light on your feet and your vision grows wavery, everything suddenly foggy and unfocused. 

“Oh, fuck,” you exhale before you feel yourself falling forward, about to hit the pavement…and you would’ve if Satoru didn’t catch you. He grunts as he grabs your arm and hugs you to him, positioning you so he’s carrying you bridal style.

You stare up into his blue eyes peaking out of his black mask before your vision is eaten up by darkness. “We’ve got you now, sweetie,” he whispers. “We’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.” 

“Wakey, wakey, babydoll. Let us know you’re still alive.”

Slowly, your eyes peel open and you’re staring into the ocean blues behind a black mask. The man attached to the mask wears a black and blue spandex suit with black gloves and boots. If it isn’t for the white hair and silky voice, you would not have recognized Satoru. “She lives!” he mockingly gasps. “Thank God. We thought you died on us, honey.” 

He grins at you, blinding you with his white teeth. You groan as you come to your senses, feeling achy and unbalanced. Slowly, you sit up, finding yourself on the floor in some secret room–it consists of a tiny cot bed, wooden boxes of food supplies, and a stool that Red Hood occupies. Suguru, you heard Satoru call him. He is still in his suit, but his mask is gone, revealing his handsome features and the snakebites embedded in his plump, pink bottom lip.

“W-Where am I?” you mutter. “Why do I feel so dizzy?” You place a hand on your head, still coming back to reality. You look around, seeing the towel under your head and your dress still intact. Did they…move you here? 

“You passed out after inhalin’ that smoke shit you blew at us,” Suguru explains from the stool, using a pocket knife to stab a hole in the drywall. He twists it to the right to the left, focusing hard on his movements. 

“I-I did?” you whisper. Then you panic, your memories flooding back. The smoke bomb. “Oh, no, no!” you gasp. “I have to get outta here! R-Right now!” Quickly, you try to rise to your feet only to slump back down, still dizzy. 

“Ah-ah, little miss,” Suguru tuts. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere right now.” He rises from his stool, arms crossed. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his muscular arms inked with tattoos but you ignore them…or you try to. “And who’s gonna stop me?” you growl at him, glaring up at him. 

Satoru glances at the both of you before rising to his feet, whistling. You watch him waltz over to a painting hanging up on the wall that you didn’t notice before and sloooowly moving it aside to reveal a tiny hole in the wall that Suguru surely made. “Well, them for one,” he replies, showing you a sliver of the museum lobby where you once were.

Only now, it’s surrounded by Gotham City cops. ‘Shit!’ you think. panicked. Someone called the cops?! What if Batman shows up too?! 

“And definitely not if you’re feelin’ weak,” Satoru adds, crossing his arms over his buff chest. “Whatever that sneak attack was is sneakin’ up on you too.”

You don’t answer, grabbing your clutch beside you and then feeling around your ear for… “My earpiece,” you gasp. “W-Where’s my earpiece?!” You begin to look around, searching the small room for the tiny black dot. “You’re what piece?” Satoru asks, confused. 

“That thing that her team was talkin’ in her ear with,” Suguru explains. “And don’t look at me. I don’t have it. Must’ve fallen out while you–”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish because you’re rising to your feet again only to stumble, falling into the wall. The two vigilantes quickly descend upon you, using their strong hands to help you out. “Hey, hey, relax,” Satoru gently says. “Sit down and take a breath.”

You watch them suspiciously as they sit you down on the edge of the bed, leaving you be once you’re off your feet. Why are they being so damn gentle with you? “Now explain,” Satoru firmly says, leaning against the wall. “Who are you? What’s the thing with robbin’ these museums?” 

Instead of answering, you keep quiet, stubborn and bratty. Satoru rolls his eyes at you like you’re a disobedient child. “Listen, we’re gonna be here for a while, so you may as well talk…unless you want us to alert one of these cops.” He picks up his fist and raps it quietly on the wall, making your heartbeat scatter.

Damn these damn vigilantes! Always one step ahead of you. “I’m a spy,” you begrudgingly confess. “I work for an underground organization that deals in jewel trafficking. I was tasked with stealing the diamond in the hopes of leading Batman to my boss.”

The two vigilantes share a look, silently talking to each other. Are they wondering what they'll do to you? How to torture you to make you talk? Will they use Suguru’s pocket knife to slice off your dress? Will they strip you down and spank you till you cry? Make you suck their big cocks until you’re begging for them to fuck you? Slide themselves inside of you and fill you up until you’re begging for them to stop?

You blink at the sudden onslaught of dirty, nasty thoughts and the images flashing across your brain. Where the fuck did that come from? 

And then you feel it: that warm flush that engulfs your body like you just stepped into a sauna. Then you feel your heartbeat accelerate, pumping hot blood until you can practically hear it throb. You press a hand to your forehead, finding it coated in sweat. What is happening to you?

The sound of Satoru’s silky voice doesn’t help your situation. If anything, it makes your body feel even weirder. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, sweetie. And for what it's worth, sorry to ruin your mission too.” He pauses, cocking his head to the side and squinting at you as if he’s just now seeing you. “You’re a lot prettier than that diamond though.”

The compliment comes out of nowhere and he looks just as perplexed as you feel from it. “What?” you and Suguru both ask. You blink, seeing how pink Satoru’s cheeks are, noticing how Suguru is pulling at the collar of his skin-tight suit. 

Then it hits you. “Oh, no…the bomb! It’s working on us!” you lament, instantly scooting as far across the room as you can. As you try to check for loose structure in the wall to knock down and escape, the vigilantes share a confused glance. “What do you mean?” Suguru demands. “What the hell was in that thing anyway? Jesus, are you two as hot as I am right now?”

You are–it feels like the room has grown to about 100 degrees and is quickly rising. “It was an aphrodisiac bomb,” you weakly explain. “It was made with bi-products to help distract my target and weaken their defenses by using arousal.” 

You don’t look at the vigilantes as you continue to tap against the wall, searching for a way out. But are you really searching or just pretending so you don’t succumb to the temptation of the two irresistible men standing behind you? 

“Wait, you used a fuckin’ aphrodisiac on us?” Satrou growls. “Is that why I’m so goddamn…” He pauses, letting out a broken exhale that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“This shit is workin’ fast,” Suguru exhales, suddenly sounding a lot closer. You feelin’ it too?” He’s asking you, but you don’t answer. You don’t even turn around, too afraid of your loss of control. You can’t trust yourself anymore. 

“I-It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here now.” You try to stand again, bracing your hands on the wall, but your knees buckle, loose like jelly. “Oh, no!” you whimper, tears springing into your eyes. 

“Hey, hey,” Satoru coos. His hands are on you, gentle and supportive, helping you stand upright. “Relax, doll. You’re okay.” Not the pet names. God, no, anything but those! 

“You don’t understand,” you whisper, trying to wrangle yourself out of his hold. He feels too good, his broad chest pressed into your back. If this continues, you don’t know what will happen and that scares you. You’re supposed to be finishing this mission! 

“What don’t I understand?” he murmurs. “Tell me.” But you can’t. You can’t focus on anything except his strong, gloved hands on your waist and his silky voice in your ear. Slowly, he turns you around to face him and you’re staring deep into his sapphire eyes glistening at you from beneath his mask. 

“Your eyes are really pretty,” you hear yourself softly admit. His lips curl into a proud smile, all dimples and charm. “Thank you, baby. Yours ain’t too bad either.” 

And then suddenly, you’re kissing. You don’t know if you lean in or if he does, but at some point, the tension that the aphrodisiacs caused reach a boiling point, steaming and overflowing. Satoru’s lips are just as soft as they were earlier in the basement, but this time, his kiss is slow and seductive, taking his time to taste you. It feels so, so fucking good. 

“No,” you whimper against his lips, some of your common sense still lingering. “T-This is all wrong.” Even so, your hands feel up his chest, indulging in how big his pecs are beneath the spandex. 

Before Satoru can protest or argue, the thud of footsteps behind you stops him short. Suguru’s hand caresses your hair, brushing it away from your neck. “Only thing that’s wrong here is me not bein’ included,” he rasps. You begin to tremble, sandwiched between their big, hard bodies, each of them towering over you. You’ve never been so intimidated in your life. 

Satoru chuckles, soft and sexy, as his thumb strokes your cheek. Though he’s speaking to Suguru, his eyes stay planted firmly on you. “Join in if ya want. There's plenty of this bad girl to go around.” His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your head up to stare up at him. “You deserve some punishment for pullin’ that little stunt on us, don’t you?”

Suguru hums in agreement, his fingers tangled in your hair. You can’t think, too distracted by the mingling scents of their cologne and your own arousal. “I-I don’t…” You dig your teeth into your bottom lip as Suguru toys with your dress zipper, making your skin tingle. “You don’t what?” the vigilante pushes, a teasing smile in his voice. “You don’t know? Oh, we think you know quite well, little lady.” 

“Y/N,” you murmur. “My name is Y/N.” Not that you hate the petnames, but it’s also because you want to hear them utter your name. Satoru smiles, pleased. “Pretty name. Better than that London shit you were goin’ with.” He is teasing you and it’s working its magic on you, totally hooking you to your targets.

Their kisses don’t make shit any better for you. They each share you one after the other, snatching you away if one of them is taking too long with your lips. Satoru’s kiss is more possessive and sloppy while Suguru is slow and seductive. However, their lips are soft and their tongues are tantalizing, drawing soft moans out of you as they push against you, trapping you between them.

You can’t get enough of their tastes; their tongues sliding against yours. Their big hands are roaming your body. Suguru sucking on your bottom lip while Satory caresses your neck, soft sighs and moans traveling between you. It is electric. It is magic. It is perfection. 

Your limbs feel loose like jelly. If it isn’t for the vigilantes holding you up, you’d definitely crumble to the floor. They have made you weak. Satoru chuckles as if sensing this, teasingly licking a stripe across your throat. “Poor baby. All she needed was a little attention.” He takes your hand and places it on his very hard, very throbbing dick. “And maybe a little dick too,” he pants. 

“Definitely not little over here,” Suguru teases. Oh, you can feel it. He is just as big and just as stiff as Satoru, pushing into your backside. You are sweating at this point, your pussy throbbing impatiently at the feeling of their bulges packed tight in their suits. “Don’t know about you though, Satoru,” Suguru smirkingly says.

Satoru tsks, rolling his eyes. “Liar. You know all about the weapon I’m carryin’, don’t you, baby boy?” Suddenly, he’s reaching over to grip Suguru’s arm and yanking him in for a sloppy kiss. You stare, shocked and aroused, their soft moans drifting through the air as their lounges slip against each other.

You weren’t expecting some hot shit like this…but you ain’t complaining either. Your body responds immediately: hard nipples, flushed cheeks, and a very wet pussy that drips down your thighs. Satoru’s blue eyes tick over to you and he pulls away, smirking. “Oooo, baby girl’s gettin’ turned on from seein’ her guys kiss, hm?” he chuckles. “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t take it?” 

Both vigilantes stare at you, their teasing making you shy. “N-No,” you stammer. Suguru raises a brow, not convinced. “Oh, no? Then prove it.” 

Suddenly, you’re indulging in your first three-way kiss. All soft lips, tongues, and moans that travel straight to your core, making it warm and fuzzy. Your pussy drips slick down your inner thighs as Satoru grinds against your front while Suguru rubs his cock against you from the back, making you feel every inch of them. The taste of champagne coming off of their tongues is intoxicating, making you drunker than any alcohol could.

Satoru pulls away, pulling his fat, pink tongue away from you. “Bet these lips would feel real good around my cock,” he whispers. You shiver at the dirty statement, biting your bottom lip. 

Suguru agrees with a hum. “Absolutely. How ‘bout it, mama? It’s okay to need a nice, fat dick in here, right?” His thumb swipes your bottom lip, making you tingle all throughout your body. 

His smile fades as he watches you watch him, his gaze molten hot and lustful. You have no choice but to watch him unbuckle his pants with one hand and unzip the front of his suit, pulling his cock out. Your eyes widen at inch at his long, thick, pulsing shaft protruding from a nest of black curls. Especially at the glistening silver ball at his bulbous head.

Red Hood has a dick piercing.  

“Suck that dick f’me,” he demands, his tone firm and serious. “It’s the least you can do for the trouble you caused.” You feel your eyes watering and your lips quivering. Everything in you is screaming at you not to comply…but there is one part nesting in the deepest, darkest depths of your being that is interested and curious. You’ve always wondered how Red Hood and Nightwing looked and tasted…and now, you’re about to find out. 

But as you kneel on the bed before Suguru, facing his thick cock, you start to gulp. He smirks, cocky, dick bobbing in your face without him even using his hands. “Too big, mama? Don’t worry. You can try on this.” He then glides his gun out of his bat belt and holds it out to you, making your eyes widen and your heart pump. “Suck, slutty girl. Let’s see whatcha got.” 

And to your utter surprise, you wrap your lips around the gun and suck. You stare into Suguru’s eyes as you blow the pistol in your face, its cold metal warmed by your soft, lush lips. Satoru watches, just as astonished and aroused as Suguru is, as your throat sinks lower down the barrel. “Mmm, no gag reflex? That’s my kinda girl.” 

Suguru’s violet eyes grow dark with lust as you bob up and down the gun, hollowing your cheeks. “Mine too. Keep those eyes up here, mama. Let me see that pretty face.” He reels you in like a fish on a hook with those eyes, hooded and piercing, drinking in the way you suck off his gun. Your spit coats the cold metal, your lips quivering when you catch his finger on the trigger. 

You can only hope that it’s unloaded, but to your surprise, you don’t feel fear; only a thrill. But you get a thrill like no other once Suguru has had enough of the foreplay and decides to finally feed you his big dick. “Time to show me what that mouth can do…other than talk back.” 

You stare at the thick cock in front of you, the silver balls teasingly glinting at you. Swallowing your pride, you start by kissing and licking along Suguru’s shaft, introducing yourself to his dick. He softly groans and hums in enjoyment at your ministrations, pushing his hips forward.

He does so in a way that makes his cock slip between your lips and in your mouth without your permission. You gasp as his thick cock passes the threshold of your mouth, the taste of him all over your tongue. “Mmm, that’s a good girl,” he moans, using one hand to grab the back of your head. 

His deep thrusts cause your hair to loosen from its updo, your curls falling down. Quickly, they are swept up by a fist, held up out of your face so you can focus on swallowing the dick down your throat. “Allow me,” Satoru hums. “Can’t suck good dick if your hair is in the way.” 

He then pushes you forward onto Suguru’s dick, making you take him deeper. You force yourself to open your throat and to breathe through your nostrils in an effort not to choke. “Shit,” Suguru groans, watching as your lush lips stretch around his dick, taking him to the hilt. “You’re so good at this, angel. You make me wanna fuckin’ cu–” 

“My turn. You’re takin’ too fuckin’ long,” Satoru quips, tearing you off of Suguru’s cock. The long-haired vigilante glares daggers at the Nightwing as he takes his place, smirking down at you. “Be prepared for some greatness, sweetie.” 

Zzzzip. Satoru smirks as he unzips his pants and slides his dick right out for you to behold. He is just as thick as Suguru but lightly curved, leaning with a hook. He is all smooth skin and muscle, not a stitch of hair coating his pelvis except for his thighs. “Like whatcha see, naughty girl? That sneak attack made me so hard f’you.”

He bites his lip as he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it oh-so slowly in your face. The little beads of pre-cum at the head drizzle down his shaft like the droplets of an ice cream cone. 

He hisses as his thumb strokes the sensitive underside of his head, his bottom lip quivering. “A-Ah–catch it, babes. Don’t let me go to waste now.”

You don’t know what possesses you to stick your tongue out to lick up the salty droplets. Maybe the drug or how hot he looks so desperate for you. Either way, you lick up his pre-cum and then suck on his cock like you mean it, hollowing your cheeks to take him easier. Suguru watches close by in both envy and arousal, stroking his fat dick as his eyes flick between you on your knees and Satoru fucking your throat.

Satoru lets out a loud, throaty groan, one hand tangled in your hair. “That’s it, cutie pie,” he groans. “Take that fuckin’ cock. Y’know, you’re almost better at this than ya are fightin’.” He pushes in deeper, making you gag and nearly triggering that button in the back of your throat, making you gag. Satoru loudly groans at the feeling of your throat flexing around him. “You should think about changin’ occupations…bein’ a little cocksucker is way more fittin’ for ya, pardon the vulgarity.” 

He begins to fuck your face now, slowly at first, but he is still brutal and rough. You have to force yourself to keep breathing to avoid throwing up all over his dick. “You could be my little cock slut,” he growls. “My baby. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” 

Yes. 

You gurgle and gag in response, your throat forced to flex around his cock interrupting its natural state. You feel as if your throat and mouth are being molded into his personal fleshlight with the way he fucks your face, grunting and groaning like a desperate man. His balls slap against your chin, filling your nose with the scent of his cologne and his dick, making for an extra arousing aroma. 

“Time’s up,” Suguru says, his voice rasped with need. “You’re either sharin’ or you’re not, Satoru. Don’t be greedy.” He practically shoves the Nightwing out of the way, making Satoru roll his eyes. “Well, sorry,” he snorts. “I didn’t realize you were feenin’ for her mouth, Red Hood. Just look at all that pre-cum!” 

Sure enough, Suguru is dripping pre down his fist, oozing down to his heavy balls. Satoru smirks as the Red Hood taps his cock against your plush lips, softly moaning. “You gonna drink it all up for him, baby?” he coos. “Be a good girl and lick it aaaalll up for us.” 

You do so, licking up Suguru’s pre-cum before he pushes in and uses your mouth again. And then passes you off to Satoru. They allow you to stroke both of their dicks in time with your sucking, alternating between each one in your face, throbbing hard. Their groans and whimpers egg you on, making you ignore the ache in your jaw and how your mascara drips just to hear more of their pleasure. 

You’ve never been used in such a way. You are being resorted to nothing but a toy. A hole for the vigilantes’ own use. Saliva drips from your chin and down onto your tits, making you slick and pussy like another part of you between your thighs. The more they fuck, the more your cunt throbs and pulses in anticipation for it to be fucked the same way. 

What is wrong with you? You can only ask yourself this question with every passing moment that your mouth is used like a fleshlight, blowing each dick like it’s your job. Soon, the vigilantes have had their fill though they haven’t cum yet. “Not bad, cutie,” Satoru pants, cheeks flushed. “Now we gotta give our girl a reward, don’t we, Sugu?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Suguru hums, stroking loose hairs out of your face. “Need to make sure you’re ready for us later.”

Excitedly, your eyes tick down to their throbbing dicks again, your pussy throbbing impatiently for either one…or both. Then you catch the glint of Satoru’s handcuffs dangling from his belt. He smirks, taking them out for you. “Oh, you want these?” he teases, dangling the cuffs in your face. “Can’t say I ain’t been wantin’ to cuff your ass all night. I think it’s fittin’ for a naughty girl like you.” 

He crooks his finger at you, causing you to stand on wobbly legs. You softly gasp when he suddenly forces you to turn around, facing the bed post. “Hands behind your back, pretty. Let’s hike up this dress too.” You swallow as you obey his sultry command, allowing Satoru to carefully cuff your hands behind your back.

Meanwhile, Suguru kneels down to hike up your dress over your hips. As he does, their groans of arousal at the sight of your plump ass in your lace panties make you gush in your panties. Before you know it, you’re getting bent over the edge of the bed, presenting your ass to the both of them. “Good, baby?” Satoru murmurs, thoughtfully stroking your ass. You nod, unable to speak.  

SMACK!

You gasp as his palm connects with your ass, hard, making tears spring into your eyes. “What was that?” Satoru asks. The fiery sting makes you flinch, but your pussy has never been wetter. You’re feening at this point, needing dick like you need water to drink. You look over your shoulder at Satoru, drowning in his molten hot gaze. “Yes, I’m okay, sir,” you whisper. 

Satoru and Suguru share a praiseful smile, cooing at your obedience. “So polite! Why weren’t you this sweet earlier, hm?” Satoru hums, pressing a kiss to your ass. But then Suguru tugs on your wrists, making you grunt. “Such a little brat,” he growls. “Lucky for you, mama, I love me some bratty girls.”

Satoru hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your panties, making you whimper. “Me too…so just what should we do to a bratty pussy like yours?” His bottom lip drags over your ass, his fat tongue licking down, down to your inner thighs. Suguru kneels with him, teasing you with his soft lips and cool tongue piercing, bathing your skin in his spit.

Your body feels unbalanced and your legs are wobbly. To some degree, you’re thankful for the bedside to hold you up as you feel Suguru’s big hands glide down your ass and thighs. Then, suddenly, you feel his breath caressing your asscheeks and something cool on your skin. 

You realize what it is when you feel your wet panties slice off of your body. A knife. “Don’t fret, mama. This is just to get these panties off…but if you want, I can use it on the dress too.” He presses the cool metal of the knife into your thigh, making you feel the jagged edges. 

“You can be a good girl for us, can’t you?” he whispers, a wicked smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer before lightly licking you against your slit. You gasp, your wrists straining against the cuffs. His big hands glide up to force your hips back, causing your ass to jut into his face. “F-Fuck!” you stammer, gasping as sparks of pleasure explode through your core. You can’t even grip anything because of your cuffed wrists, so you resort to curling your toes in your heels.

“Don’t leave me outta this,” Satoru purrs. “I want a lick too.” You feel him give your ass a wet, open-mouthed kiss, making you moan as Suguru slides his fat tongue up to tease your clit. “You can handle both of us, can’t you, babydoll? A tough girl like you?” 

Neither of them give you a chance to answer. Instead, your pitiful moans and slutty whimpers answer for them, filling the small room along with the soft, wet sloshing of their tongues caressing your dripping pussy. They hum enjoyment, licking and sucking away at your pussy that seems to grow wetter with every ministration of their tongues. 

“O-Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Mmm, fuck!” You try to hold back your moans, but you can’t. Plus, the knife against your thigh doesn’t allow you. One wrong move or something that Suguru doesn’t like, and that knife could be cutting your skin…and that turns you on like you’ve never been in your life. 

So let them do as they please. But you don’t really have a choice either. All you can do is shake and shudder as Sugruu sucks on your ass and Satoru swirls his tongue around your clit before he dips the muscle inside of you, moaning at your taste. Your mouth falls open on a loud moan, his soft lips cushioning your clit. 

Satoru lightly pulls on your pussy lips, earning a whimper from you. “Isn’t this so much better than fightin’ us, baby?” he asks before French kissing your cunt once again. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue licking and sliding this way and that. 

At some point, you hear him and Suguru making out with your pussy between them, their soft moans and hot pants fanning across each sensitive part of your pussy, making you a panting, overstimulated mess. You push your ass into their faces, riding their tongues, desperation blooming in your core along with the familiar warm, budding sensation of an oncoming orgasm. 

“Please!” you whine. “A-Ah…oh, fuck, please!”

Satoru smiles, still licking and sucking your pussy with all of the vigor of a hungered man. “I like you beggin’,” he replies. “Do it again for us, nice and pretty.” You have no choice when he continues on slurping on your cunt and fucking your hole, his nose swiping against your clit. 

“Please, please, please!” you sob. “Please let me cum!” Your begging must satisfy the vigilantes because their tongues move a little faster, their pace causing your body to quake against the restrictions of the cuffs. Their hot, wet mouths cause your orgasm to wash over you quickly yet powerfully, controlling every part of your body. You let out a whine of pleasure as your cum explodes in their mouths, drenching their lips in your juices. 

While you’re still cumming, Suguru, ever the sadist, presses his thumb against your clit as his knife skates up to press against your pussy lips, the cold metal making you whine. “Cum more for us, baby,” he coos. “You can do it.” Then Satoru is shoving his tongue up inside of you, making you damn near scream. Fuck!” you explode as your orgasm peaks, making your eyes roll back and your legs shake. 

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting until you hear the vigilantes exclaim in surprise, catching every drop in their mouths. “Oh, shit, she’s a squirter!” he says with glee. “That’s too fuckin’ sexy.” 

Your eyes roll back as your hips buck and your pussy quivers, more and more of your honey exploding onto the vigilantes’ tongues until you are absolutely spent. Even when you slump against the bed, exhausted, Suguru stands behind you, dick up and ready to blow. Pla-pla-plap goes his cock slapping against your sensitive clit, making you hiss. 

“We ain’t done yet so you’d better get it together,” he softly demands, his big hands gripping your ass. Instantly, your stomach grows fluttery with butterflies and your core grows warm. You know exactly what is coming next. You can’t stop. You can’t avoid it. And more frighteningly, you’re not even sure if you don’t want it. 

Especially when Suguru finally slides that big, thick, long cock inside of you. Slick and open from your orgasm, he makes his home between your velvety walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt in your life. He groans into your ear while your mouth falls agape on a silent moan. “God, you’re tight!” he hisses, already bumping his hips back and forth against your ass. Slow and deep. 

You think you’re already feeling pleasure until Satoru gets involved, still kneeling behind you. He hooks one of your legs up and Suguru takes control, keeping your leg hiked up as the Nightwing tilts his chin up to face your pussy getting stretched out on some dick. “C’mere, you two,” he pants. “I wanna hear you both scream.” Then his fat tongue is caressing your clit and Suguru’s balls as the vigilante pounds you from behind. 

You are a moaning, whining mess, damn near drooling in pleasure. Suguru digs his nails into the fleshy part where your ass meets your hip, his fingers indulging in your body. “Fuck, baby!” he grunts into your ear, panting hotly. Even he can’t get a grip on himself. Your pussy feels too good wrapped around him, stroking him of all he’s worth. 

“Take it,” he demands. “Take that fuckin’ dick. You know you need it.” His other hand grips your neck, keeping a strong grip on your throat as he fucks into your wet heat. “So let me give it to you,” he huffs. “Lemme give you everything that pussy needs!” 

His hips hammer harder and faster into your ass, making it quiver and recoil. Your moans are loud and high-pitched, unable to be silenced due to his pistoning thrusts. He fucks you like a machine, pumping in and out, out and in, his cock pulsing inside of you. “F-Fuck!” you stammer. “Wait, S-Sugu! You’re going t-too fast!” 

Your pussy feels like it’s going into overload, being stuffed too much and too quickly. Satoru’s tongue doesn’t make things any better; he is a master with his tongue, giving you sloppy licks and sucks as his partner fills you up again and again. Tears spring into your eyes as Suguru grips your throat tighter, cutting off your air for just a moment. “Oh, but you can take it, can’t you, tough girl?” he chuckles. “You’re bein’ so good already.” 

Short moans and gasps leave your lips as he continues to squeeze, still fucking you dumb. Your knees buckle and your head feels fuzzy from the overstimulation and the grip on your throat. The pleasure somehow mounts to astronomical heights, leaving you a dumb, mindless mess. 

You’re about to cum. Your target is going to make you burst all over his big, fat cock as if you’re his lover and he’s deserving of all of it. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you warn. “Please, please let me cum, sir! I can’t take it!” You grip the cuffs for dear life as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Your knuckles go pale, an indication of the pleasure you’re experiencing. 

Satoru chuckles, enjoying your torture, staring up at your bouncing tits above him. “Aww, but the fun just started, baby,” he condescendingly coos. “You gonna cum already? Is that vigilante dick just too good?” You whimper in response, your eyes fluttering closed. 

SMACK! 

Satoru slaps your clit hard, making it sting. “I don’t hear an answer,” he growls. You sob, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks. “Yes! Yes, it feels so fucking good!” you babble. You can feel yourself careening closer to orgasm, your head going blank as you get closer to the edge…

And then Suguru slows his pace, putting an end to your euphoria. “Then we’ll need to make it feel extra good,” Satoru cackles, his blue eyes glittering with wickedness. “I wanna fuck her too, Suguru. Don’t be greedy now.” He stands up, his hand on his fat, hard dick pulsing for you. 

Suguru looks between you and Satoru, raising an eyebrow. “So you wanna steal her other pretty hole? Is that it?” You blink, the gears in your brain turning, processing what your “other pretty hole” means. They can’t possibly mean–

“W-Wait, wait,” you protest as Suguru maneuvers your body, turning you around so he’s holding you up. You squeak, staring at a wall of broad chest and tattoos inking his pecs. “I-I’m not–”

“Ready?” Satoru finishes, smirking as he gets behind you, one leg hiked up to expose your dripping pussy to the both of them. “Don’t worry, babycakes! We’ve got you. That’s what these fat tongues are here for.”

Again, you’re bent over the bed and the vigilantes’ are sharing your hole again. Only this time it’s your asshole. They spit and slobber into your puckered hole, your asscheeks pried apart in their gloved hands. All you can do is moan and whine as they lick and suckle on your asshole, even using their fingers to gently fuck you there until you’re good and open. 

“Oooo, look at that gape!” Satoru cackles, grinning at the way you’re so stretched and open now for some dick. “You’re nice and ready for me now, cutie pie. You’re gonna look so beautiful stuffed with our dicks.” 

You whimper, your body burning with need and arousal. You’ve never been this horny in your life. You suspect that Batman will come at any minute to toss you in a mental facility because of how diabolically, deviously horny you are for his protégé. “Let’s get these cuffs off of you,” Suguru murmurs, taking Satoru’s key to unshackle you.

Once you’re uncuffed, you’re sandwiched between the vigilantes again, a prisoner in two walls of muscle. You are facing Suguru again, your arms around his neck, moaning as he gives you a slow, sloppy kiss, while Satoru is behind you. 

He rubs his cock against your asshole, making you whimper at the feeling of something so hot and hard trying to enter you there. “Don’t you wanna be a big girl for us?” he coos. “Don’t you wanna prove how tough you are?” You feel his tip lightly brush your entrance and flinch, nails digging into Suguru’s chest. “T-Toru,” you stammer. “Please…”

Satoru shushes you, peppering your neck in minty, champagne-spiked kisses. “S’okay, doll, we’ve gotchu. Nice and slow now…” He nods at Suguru and together, they hold you up by your leg and sink deeeeep inside of your holes.

You gasp, your eyes widening as you see twinkling stars. There is a slight burn as Satoru shoves himself in your asshole, but it is numbed by Suguru in your pussy, pleasure and pain mixing into one. After some slow, gentle strokes, they go harder, deeper, faster. Skin against skin. Moans in your ear. 

You feel stretched. You feel full. You feel used. And you feel absolutely, positively amazing. 

“Ah, fuck, baby, yes!” Satoru moans into your ear, pawing at your tits and ass like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t. “God, you–ngh, feel so fuckin’ good!” 

Suguru locks a hand around your throat and presses his lips to your ear, his lip ring cool against the shell. “A pussy like this would make me ditch the cape. Make me rob a fuckin’ bank for you.” 

He loosens his hold on your neck, allowing you time to breathe. But you can’t breathe. You can’t even speak. Your mind is full of cock, unable to focus on anything but Satoru’s big thighs slapping against yours and Suguru’s handsome, flushed face, their dicks pummeling into you. Their thrusts grow quick and brutal, turning your pussy and asshole into mush, making your clit sing and your brain fall right out of your noggin. You are gone. And so are the vigilantes. 

“Ngh–Goddamn, you feel so good,” Satoru groans, gripping your ass so hard that he’ll leave fingerprints. “How are you this fuckin’ tight?” His hand comes around to toy with your lips, his long fingers prying them apart so you can suck on his digits. 

“You’ve got me so c-close,” Suguru grunts in your ear, stammering out his words. “N-Need…oh, fuck, I need to go harder.” Harsh pants and heavy breaths leave his lush lips as he fucks you faster, his balls slapping against your clit. “You want that too, mama? Do you want us to make you cum again?”

You bounce on their cocks between them, leaving crescent marks in Suguru’s shoulders as you dig your nails into his skin. “Ah, yes, yes, please! Make me cum again!” The two vigilantes slow their thrusts for a moment to share a look, silently telling each other the same thing: let’s slut this girl out.

Suddenly, you’re posted on your back with Satoru underneath you and Suguru on top, forcing you into semi-mating press with Suguru holding your legs open for his partner. Your moans and whines of pleasure bounce off of the walls as Suguru taps his dick against your pussy, ready to give you deep-dicking like you never had. “Ready, baby?” he whispers against your lips. “Beg for it.”

“Suguru–”

SMACK!

This time, both vigilantes spank you, on your pussy and your ass, the double assault making you yelp. “Beg,” Satoru growls in your ear, gripping your throat. His cock is nestled deep in your ass, not moving, just there, driving you to the brink of insanity. You can’t think. You can only feel. 

“Please fuck me,” you whimper out. “Make me cum again, sirs. Please.” 

And so they do. They fuck you until you’re seeing stars and forgetting all about your stupid mission. They fuck you with all the mercy of sinners, drilling your holes. They fuck you into the rickety little bed until it rocks and squeaks, fuck whoever hears. Satoru fucks up into your ass while Suguru rams your pussy, the push and pull of their thrusts pulling your soul right out of you. 

It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to snap. “Oh, fuck!” you whine, damn near screaming for all to hear as you cum hard around Suguru’s cock. You don’t have time to warn them–it just happens, exploding out of you. Suguru moans as you tighten around him, drawing his cum right out of him. “Cum for me,” he groans. “Shit–c’cmon, baby, cum! Give it to me!” 

Your orgasm hits you hard and intensely, sending you on a trip as you thrash in the vigilantes’ hands. Your pussy and ass grip their dicks tighter than a vice as you cream onto Suguru’s cock, coating them both from cockhead to balls in your juices. They share a slutty moan in pleasure by how tight you’ve grown, gripping and stroking them until they have no choice but to cum. 

Satoru’s thrusts grow sloppy as your asshole massages the spunk out of his dick, making him whine in pleasure. “Gonna cum!” he whines. “F-Fuck, I’mma cum for you, baby!” 

“Me too,” Suguru groans, eyes squeezed tight from how tight you are. How velvety and wet you feel. “Take it all…all of it! It’s all for you.” 

You gasp as you feel two hot loads of cum shoot deep into your holes, making you gasp. The moans of release that escape the men are fit for a porno, their thrusts growing sloppier and erratic as they chase their orgasms inside of you. But that isn’t enough for them. Slowly, still hard as rocks, they pull out and have you on your knees so they can pump the rest onto you. 

Their moans, gasps, and grunts fill the room as warm spunk hits your face, dripping down your cheeks, lips, neck, and juicy tits, making your skin sobbing wet and sticky with him. Your breath comes out in short puffs of air as you recover from the vigorous fucking, completely spent. You kneel there, body aching, pussy and ass sore from being stretched. 

You feel perfect. Even when the effects of the bomb begin to wear off, you still feel that addictive satisfaction that comes after some good sex. Even when the vigilantes recover and that awkwardness grows in the room, you feel no regrets. You can’t help but wonder what it means. 

After a while, still in the bed with each other, Satoru is the first one to speak. “Well, uh…that was unexpected.” He clears his throat, cheeks flushed pink. Even Suguru looks shy now, his muscles glinting in sweat. You don’t say anything, too afraid to do so. You aren’t too sure what to say anyhow. You desperately want to say something to cure this horrible silence, but Satoru beats you to it. “So…what do we do now?”

Suguru, tying his hair up in a long, sexy ponytail, looks around for a solution. “Guess find a way to get out of here without alertin’ the cops. What do you think?” He looks at you now, expectantly. 

You feel hot with their eyes on you now, a lump growing in your throat. “U-Uh…well, sure. But it might be awhile before the side effects of the bomb wear off.” The words are out before you can stop them. What exactly are you implying? That you want them to stay? That you want more? 

You open your mouth to try and take it back, but Suguru is already agreeing: “She’s right. We’ll definitely need to recuperate.” You gape at him, surprised, and see the little wink he shoots you. Satoru yawns, stretching his muscular arms high over his head. “Sounds like a plan. I think that bomb had a sleep potion too!”

You feel those damn butterflies return, realizing that tonight isn’t over. “But there’s only one bed though,” you state, looking at the small, rickety bed you’re sitting on. The vigilantes just smirk at each other and then at you, making you burn. 

“Then I guess we’ll have to share,” Suguru coos, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. That won’t be a problem though, will it?” 

You don’t dare tell him that it isn’t. You just let them sandwich you between them in the bed, limbs tangled and the afterglow engulfing you the same way your vigilantes do. You can’t hide the satisfied smile that grows on your lips as silence descends upon you again…but this time, it’s nothing but bliss. 

“We should be safe to depart here,” Suguru murmurs, coaxing you to walk up the small staircase to the rooftop first. 

You do so, your high heels clicking across the gravel as you sneak into the night air. The vigilantes follow right after, now in their super suits and masks. After some recovery and after-sex cuddling, Suguru passed you a towel to sob up the cum from your skin and Satoru found your clothes.

After slipping your dress back on like nothing happened, you snuck out of the room with the vigilantes through a loose floorboard that dropped you into the basement. From there, you went out the back of the museum and up the fire escape to the rooftop, figuring that escaping by air would be better than risking being seen by a cop. 

The side effects of the bomb have since worn off, but the feelings of lust are still there. After such amazing sex with the two heroes, it is impossible to not crave more. You stand before them now in the night air, the starry sky the perfect backdrop for them. Satoru clears his throat, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, uh…this was fun. Pretty interestin’ night, I’d say.” 

“Yeah,” you awkwardly say, your heart pummeling in your chest. You stare at both of them, trying to get a sense of where their heads are at from their eyes. “So you guys gonna go back to the batcave to discuss this or–” 

Beep, beep, beep!

“Night Owl? Come in, Night Owl. What's happening over there?!” The panicked voice of your boss comes from in your clutch. You gasp, unzipping it and fishing out your earpiece. You had it this entire time?! 

The vigilantes look just as shook as you feel when you clear your throat, already sensing the inevitable. “Night Owl is present, boss,” you say as firmly as you can into your ear piece. “I’m alive. Um…just out of curiosity, how much of that did you hear?”

You desperately hope that your boss is clueless as to what you’re talking about, but you know you won’t be that lucky. Judging by his awkward pause, you guess he heard everything. “Uh…just enough. Did you find the targets?” 

You try to think of something professional to say while also letting the vigilantes off the hook, but Satoru speaks for you. “Oh, she did!” he chirps with a grin. “And now she’s about to make us talk with some extra torture device. Thanks for checkin’ in!” 

Quickly, you end the call and toss the ear piece back into your clutch. “I’m so totally fired,” you sigh. Satoru shrugs, placing a hand on your shoulder, making your skin tingle. “You could always come work with us. Wouldn’t mind havin’ you around for some Gotham bullshit.” His smirk is sexy yet genuine. Not a hint of humor in it. He’s serious. 

You cock your head at him, sizing him up with your eyes. You did your best to fix the makeup that the cum wiped off, including your pretty eyeshadow and mascara. “I thought you work alone,” you tease with a hand on your hip. “Especially you, Red Hood.”

You nod at the tall, long-haired vigilante who has been checking you out for all the minutes you were chatting with Satoru. “I do…but you’ve got some potential.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, eyeing you up and down. “You’d definitely need to be trained to be my trusted sidekick though.” 

Your body zings at the flirty banter between you, so natural and easy as if you’d been doing it for years. “I’m nobody’s sidekick,” you scoff, eyeing the superheroes down. “But I’ll give it some thought.” Satoru rolls his eyes like you’re playing so hard to get while Suguru chuckles. “Fine. In the meantime, you keep your hands to yourself.”

The Nightwing puts his hand out for a shake. After some time sizing up his intentions, you take it, shaking his head, only to gasp when he pulls you into his body. His lips are suddenly at your ear, his voice low and hushed. “Unless you want another personal visit,” he purrs in your ear. 

Lucky for you, you know how to play the game of seduction. Plus, the idea of toying with the sexy vigilantes of Gotham, making them lose their cool, doesn’t seem too unexciting. “Hm. I may just take you up on that,” you hum into Satoru’s ear, gently kissing his cheek and leaving a ring of gloss there.

You do the same to Suguru, standing up on your tip toes to give him a kiss. You feel his body stiffen as you leave a sticky print there, marking him up. Then you take a step back, smiling coyly. “Thanks for the fun tonight, boys,” you purr to them. “And for the souvenirs.” 

Their dreamy expressions turn to confusion, brows scowled. Your smile widens as you flash them the diamond in your clutch before quickly getting out your rope gun and hitting the button. 

Before either of them can yank you back, you’re soaring through the air across the rooftop and landing perfectly in your heels on the rooftop across from the museum. You turn back to them staring at you in awe, but they are smiling. “You little sneak!” Satoru yells across the night at you. “We’ll get you back for that, Night Owl!”

You blow each of them a kiss, winking. “Lookin’ forward to it!” you giggle. “Farewell, batbrains!” 

And then you strut off into the night, feeling like a new woman. 

THE END.

TWO: The West's Most Wanted.

THREE: From One Killer To Another.

FOUR: She's Such A Tyrant!

FIVE: No Tell Motel.

SIX: For A Sinner's Ears Only.

SEVEN: Hit 'Em Up!

EIGHT: Good Damage.

NINE: Kiss Me Gently in the Morning.

TEN: Somethin' Wicked This Way Comes.

ELEVEN: A Helping Hand.

TWELVE: Toxic.

THIRTEEN: Easing the Pain.

FOURTEEN: Sweet Medicine.

FIFTEEN: Starting Fresh.

SIXTEEN: A New Change.

SEVENTEEN: Misdirection.

EIGHTEEN PT I: In The Summer Breeze.

EIGHTEEN PT II: Pour Some Sugar on Me.

NINETEEN: Ain't Too Proud to Beg.

TWENTY: Them Changes.

TWENTY-ONE: Movin' On.

TWENTY-TWO: Untameable.

TWENTY-THREE: The III Most Wanted.

TWENTY-FOUR: Ride It, Sugar.

EPILOGUE.

They are known for their impressive yet terrifying speed when it comes to cocking and shooting their guns. You’ve heard of them killing all kinds of wanted criminals and even other gunslingers in other counties. Everyone knows them…and so do you. 

If a record was playing, the damn thing would be scratching by now with the way the saloon reacts to seeing the gunslingers in the flesh. Whispers begin to rise from the silence, including from Yuki, Mai, and Maki who have wandered over. “Oh, my God,” Mai gasps. “It’s the Gunslingers!” 

“What the hell are they doin’ here?” Maki wonders aloud, peering at them from behind her spectacles. “Are they lookin’ for someone? I thought they’d been arrested!” 

And they were, last year. At some point, the articles of criminals, corporation owners, and high rollers found dead with bullets in them and a note from “G & G” left at the scene stopped when they were arrested after that train heist. And you know it has everything to do with your boss. 

“Who cares?” Yuki dreamily sighs as she stares at the gunslingers with heart eyes. “I get to admire them in person now! Aren’t they delicious?” 

“Keep it in your pants, Yuki,” Choso grumbles, tugging on a lock of the blonde’s hair as she giggles. “They ain’t even all that.” 

“Of course not,” Yuki purrs, making Choso blush. “Not above you, Chosi, but a cowboy hat would do you so well!”

Even you will admit that the “wanted dead or alive” posters don’t do them justice: they are fine as all hell, straight out of a woman’s wet dreams. But they are also outlaws. And you despise outlaws…for personal reasons. 

The duo begins to look around the silent saloon, Gojo’s head slowly turning despite his blindfold. When his head turns toward you, you feel as if the air has been stolen from your very lungs. Despite the fabric covering his eyes, you feel as if he sees you. All of you. 

Gojo nudges Geto with his elbow before waltzing over to the bar, his boots thudding across the hardwood floor. Geto follows, ignoring the whispers and stares in his wake. The piano has begun to pick up again, but it does nothing to ease the tension swimming in the air. Quickly, you turn to face your drink while the girls scatter to work, leaving you to fend for yourself. 

Geto sits on the stool beside you while Gojo takes the one beside him. You feel the air around you become stiff and tense as the outlaws settle into their seats. “So what’s a cowboy gotta do to get a drink round here?” Gojo asks with a smirk. “Can ya help a guy out, miss?” 

He gives Shoko a flirty look, not knowing that this girl is gay as hell. “I could damn sure try,” she replies, barely giving him a smile. “What will you fellas have?” 

“I’ll take a Long Island iced tea,” Gojo says then laughs. “Just kiddin’! A beer, please.” 

Geto takes a moment to examine the shelves of alcohol behind Shoko. He then looks at your pretty drink. “I’ll take what the lady is havin’,” he answers. “Actually, what is that you got there, miss?” 

His dark, enchanting eyes meet yours and you ignore the butterflies they invoke inside of you. “Whiskey smash,” you blandly reply. He hums thoughtfully at the name. “Hm…is it good?” 

You tick your eyes at him briefly, secretly admiring his features. “If you like your whiskey with some sweetness to it, sure.” 

A slow smirk appears on his face. “Oh, I definitely do,” he drawls. “I like sweetness with my everything.” 

You swallow hard, sure you have a cherry pit in your throat. Gojo chuckles from beside his partner, flashing you a white-toothed smile. “Oooh, me too. I’ll third that, ma’am!” Shoko nods and shoots you a look before wandering off to fix the drinks. 

You do your best to keep calm and act normal, sipping your drink and trying to relax. At some point, the silence becomes thicker, prompting one of the gunslingers to speak on it. “Welcomin’ place,” Gojo sniggers. “I feel so at home.” Geto quietly chuckles from between you and Gojo. “Let’s just settle this, Satoru. We won’t be here long.” 

‘Settle what?’ you wonder, but you know that they are here for Kento. Shoko comes back with the frothy, red drinks, lowering them in front of the gunslingers. 

“Thank you kindly,” Gojo chirps before taking a sip. Geto nods his thanks but doesn’t drink his right away. Instead, he goes into his pocket and retrieves a folded piece of paper. He unfolds it and slides it across the bar to Shoko. “I don’t suppose you know who this guy is.” 

You peek down at the paper, finding it to be a “Wanted” poster with your boyfriend and boss looking back at you. Kenzo aka “Valentine” looks much different than when you met him. On the poster, he is clean and shaven, has longer, shaggier hair, and has a distinguished scar on his left eye. 

But of course, this is the gunslinger who robbed people blind and just pulled a train heist and massacre in the town of Cherrywood a year before with his crew, Geto, and Gojo. The man who takes his place now is “Kenzo”, a humble saloon owner who sometimes dabbles in illegal activity to fund his saloon.  

Valentine, a criminal on the lam and your outlaw boyfriend, is known for using his looks, charm, and violence to get what he wants. He is a man who loves money, women, and jewels. As a notorious criminal and outlaw, he has bounced from place to place, county to county, robbing folks and then laying low before starting again. 

He was arrested for robbing the Cherrywood regional train and having his crew massacre all its riders before you met him. Originally, he was given a fifty-year sentence but escaped after serving five weeks just by seducing a prison guard and then knocking him out to steal the cell keys. 

You were hot on his trails when he showed up in Blackwater a year later and met you in a whorehouse that you purposely took a job in since he frequented it. He took one look at you and immediately fell in love with you (and your body), proposing you a job at his saloon. “You could be mine,” he told you. “My girl.” You agreed and the rest is history. 

“I’ve heard of him, yeah,” Shoko replies as she cleans a glass. 

“Is it possible you’ve seen him around?” Geto ponders aloud. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but he escaped Cherrywood a year ago after robbin’ a train and massacrin’ everyone on it. He’s wanted in about nine different counties.” 

Shoko takes another brief look at the poster before someone flags her down from the end of the bar. Saved by the bell. “I can’t say I have seen him, fellas,” she apologetically says. “‘Scuse me.” 

She hurries off, leaving you with the two cowboys. “How ‘bout you, ma’am?” Geto asks, passing the poster to you. “You recognize this face by any chance?” 

You look down, studying Valentine’s face. You have, but first, you need to read these guys. “I’ve seen him in the posters, but not in person. May I ask why you two are here?” 

You keep it casual and curious, making sure you don’t sound too suspicious. “We were paid by a private source to track down Valentine for his crimes,” Geto vaguely explains. 

“And for personal business,” Ghetto adds with a smirk. “You see, we were in, uh…business with Valentine some time ago and never got our cut.” He doesn’t need to go into anymore detail than that. You know exactly what he’s talking about.

“We don’t like bein’ played with,” he says, his voice dipping an octave, sending a chill down your spine. “Or when someone’s money is funny, so we came here to exchange words with him.” 

‘Words or bullet?’ you want to ask, but you instead bite your tongue and sip your drink. 

“We’ve been told he was last seen in this town,” Geto explains. “We figured everyone comes to saloons so why not check here?” He slides the poster away from you, a kind yet flirty smile crossing his beautiful face. “But even if he isn’t, we can still enjoy a drink with a pretty lady.” 

You roll your eyes, having heard that line before. “Does that line work with all the girls?” you scoff. Gojo coughs up his whiskey as he laughs, but Geto doesn’t take it to heart. In fact, he chuckles. “I see not with you,” he replies. 

“I like that,” Gojo states once he’s recovered, his blindfolded eyes set dead on you. “You’ve gotta be the first person who isn’t scared of us or tryin’ to jump in bed with us.”

You passively shrug, twirling your tongue around the rim of the glass. “I’ve been ‘round gunslingers in my time.” 

At this, the duo share a look unbeknownst to you, quite interested in the pretty thing sitting with them at the bar. “Oh, really?” Gojo drawls and you realize your mistake. “Any of these encounters you’d care to share, little lady? I’m quite interested.”

Geto nods, his gaze like molten fire. “I am too.” 

You suddenly feel your mouth grow dry and your cheeks become hot. Your body reacts in a way it never has with any man you’ve been with, not even Eren, your first love!

The way they continue to stare at you, giving you their undivided and unwanted attention, is even worse. What is wrong with you? 

Luckily, your boss comes to the rescue, barreling up to the bar like he wasn’t watching the duo from afar and shaking in his boots. “Oh, gentlemen!” he shouts, giving them both a hard, eager handshake. “Welcome, welcome! Can I offer you two another drink or a dance free of charge?” 

Gojo ignores him like he isn’t even talking, leaving Geto to handle this. “Thanks, but no thanks,” he says, plastering on a kind smile. “We’re here for some information about him.” He passes Kenzo the poster and you watch in real time as the color in your boyfriend’s face drains. 

“Have you seen this guy anywhere?” Geto asks, squinting at him. Gojo peers at him from under his hat, his stare intense even with the blindfold. Kenzo clears his throat and leans in to whisper to Geto. You pretend to ignore them though you secretly strain to hear. “Let’s talk in private,” he whispers. “Even the walls have ears, I’m afraid.” 

Geto nods and nudges Gojo who sighs and downs the rest of his drink. To your shock, Geto puts a hand out to you for a shake. Though hesitantly, you take his hand and feel the room grow hotter than a sauna when he places a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“It was a pleasure meetin’ you, ma’am,” he softly says. “Hopefully, we’ll cross paths again.” 

His eyes gleam as he tips his hat at you, leaving Gojo to follow Kenzo upstairs. Gojo doesn’t follow right away, instead digging into his pocket for some coins and placing them on the bar in front of you. “For your drink,” he says with a wink. “Have a good night, little miss.” 

Then, just like Geto, he leaves as if he didn’t just steal the air you breathe with it.

You just giggle again, tipping your head back to offer up more of the canvas of your neck. You know you should be taking this more seriously — there's unimaginable darkness hanging over both your heads at every turn. But you just got married, and he's kissing all over you and it tickles just a little and his voice is in your ear and his hands are on your body and he's back.

After nineteen days of hell, he's back.

You let out a happy hum, your eyes fluttering closed as his kisses move down the curve of your neck towards your shoulder. His mouth is warm, his hands are warm, his chest is warm against yours. He's warm, and he's here, and so solid against you that you finally allow yourself to soften against him once more.

"Wasn't today so beautiful?" you breathe as your head drops just a bit further, your back arched like a dancer's into his body. He lets out an appreciative hum, mirroring yours, fingers curling tighter into the white lacy fabric at your hips.

"You kidding?" he says, and his kisses start to slow. His tongue brushes against your pulse just enough to send a shiver through you. "It was perfect. Fucking perfect." His fingers dig a little deeper into your plush hips, forcing your body to curve more sensually against his. "You looked so beautiful. Always do, but fuck, something about you wearing this dress, wearing my ring…" He lets out a playful little growl and starts up another barrage of kisses.

And you just laugh, and you close your eyes, smiling so broadly that your cheeks ache, and you remember what it's like to be loved by him so wholly and completely.

As he makes his way down your neck, his tongue now joining his lips as he licks a line of heat up the curve of your throat towards your ear. A delicious shiver runs up your spine, desire pooling deep in your pelvis as his breath fans across your cheek. He nips at your jaw again, but this time it's not so playful; it's a graze of teeth meant to make your breath hitch.

Which it does.

You can feel his grin — taunting, now, predatory — against your skin as his hands finally start to roam. It starts with him gently circling your hip bones through your dress. Then his hands move up, one following the curve of your spine and the other tracing up your belly and chest. His palm passes purposefully over one of your breasts but doesn't linger, instead moving to cradle the side of your neck.

Then, finally, he raises his lips to yours. And this kiss is ravenous.

It's all tongue and teeth, like he's devouring you, tasting every inch he can reach because for so long he was trapped without even the faintest memory of you. He had to keep his mind clear, after all, so he couldn't think about your taste, about your body beneath his hands, against his chest, under him while he—

He has to pull away to take a ragged breath so he doesn't push you face-first into the mattress, pull your panties aside, and fuck you into oblivion.

Because this is supposed to be the start of forever, and he wants to do it right.

He wanted to do all of it right. He always promised you a grand wedding, with as many guests as you wanted and no holds barred. He wanted to give you everything: the flowers, the wedding gown, the fancy venue, the overpriced food and an open bar and the best photographer he could find to capture the whole thing on camera.

He always promised you everything.

And then he got sealed.

He never doubted he'd get out. Not really. He spent the whole time honing his technique even further, wiped away every memory of you and anything else he'd lost just to stay sane.

Just to survive.

He never doubted he'd get out, but he knew that you were starting to wonder.

He knew it was hard not to. You trusted him, had the utmost faith in him, but as days passed without him, you couldn't help but fear the worst.

How were you supposed to live the rest of your life — a life you'd planned to live alongside him — all alone?

So when he was finally released, he came home to you as quickly as he could. He didn't knock on the front door of your shared home; he teleported straight inside, and when you turned around from making yet another microwave meal, you dropped the shitty pasta that tasted like the plastic it came in onto the kitchen floor with a splatter of red sauce.

Neither of you stopped to take in the wreckage before you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your limbs tightly around him to keep him from disappearing again.

You planned the wedding in secret. The two of you snuck away in between grueling strategy sessions, and you bought a cheap white cocktail dress with just enough lace to look like a bride, and you made Ijichi take five minutes to get ordained online.

He pronounced the two of you husband and wife, and Satoru kissed you like he still expected forever.

It wasn't the wedding he promised. It wasn't the wedding either of you dreamed of. But you couldn't stop smiling when he kissed you for the first time as your husband.

Then he reserved the most expensive honeymoon suite in town, for one single night. Just enough to celebrate your first night married before he has to leave.

Because both of you know he has to. It's never been a doubt that when a world-ending threat presented itself, Satoru would have to go.

He'd have to face it, and ultimately, he would be alone when he did.

But, at least for now, he's got you here with him.

He lets out a shaky breath as he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against yours, letting his eyes close as he tries to slow down. He wants to cherish this moment. Wants to be able to hold this memory in his mind when he faces Sukuna — the curse inside the body of the boy he raised — and fight like he isn't terrified to end Megumi's life, too.

He wants to take you with him, even if it's only in the back of his mind and the ring on his finger.

You raise a hand, gentle as always, cradling his cheek in your palm like he's fragile. He lets out a small little huff, because you're the only one who treats him like that, like he's a treasure beyond mortal value.

"You okay?" you whisper, and when he opens his eyes again, he sees you looking up at him with equal amounts of tenderness and concern in your eyes. Your brows pinch together a little in the middle in the way he loves so much, because it means you care about him enough to worry.

At the sight, his lips curl up just a little at the corners, and he turns his head just enough to press a lingering kiss to your palm, so meaningful it makes your heart ache in the sweetest way. But the smile doesn't quite touch his eyes. After all this time, you can tell.

"Yeah," he whispers back, his lips brushing against your palm, and he looks at you with those eyes of cracked quartz, and you can see that flash of vulnerability there before he schools his expression back into that playful joy he always exudes when he's with you. "I'm perfect. Actually…" His fingers start to roam once more, dipping beneath lace as he puts on that familiar wolfish smile and lowers his voice, "I'm really eager to fuck my wife. That okay with you?"

You can't help it; you let out a breathy little laugh, eyes sparkling up at him as you allow him to skirt the question. You let him pull you into his chest once more, and he's looking down at you like he wants to eat you up and lick the plate clean, and you feel equal parts prey and beloved under his heated gaze. "You can't be a little more romantic?" you tease, though you don't really mean the complaint. You love when he tells you exactly what he wants to do with (to) you; it makes anticipation clench low in your belly as his voice coaxes you towards inevitable pleasure.

But he, as always, takes your tease in stride, his smile broadening into a grin as he leans down and murmurs, "You want me to say I'll make love to you? That I'll take my time, unwrap you like a gift? That I'll kiss every part of you just to profess my undying love?" His fingers toy with the edge of lace lining your skirt as he leans in just enough for his lips to brush your ear again, his voice lowering even further until it reaches an intimate purr, "But, baby…" His touch dips just slightly below the lace trim, his hands hot on your skin, "didn't I already do that at the altar?"

This time, you're not laughing. This time, at his touch, your breath hitches softly in the back of your throat. The heat of his hands seems to seep all the way through you to your very bones until it pools low in your belly.

And Satoru's six eyes follow the trail of fire, his grin never faltering.

Then he lifts those dangerous, taunting, loving eyes to meet yours, and both of you are already leaning towards each other, your lips parting before they even meet his.

When they do, it's like the raging inferno inside you finally erupts.

This kiss doesn't start slowly, romantically, sensually. It starts like he's trying to crawl inside you and taste every inch, like he wants to break you open like ripe fruit and devour your sweet flesh. His tongue swipes at your lower lip, and his hand is already coming up to squeeze your jaw and open you up for the taking. The kiss is sloppy, spit collecting at the corners of your lips, but he drinks it down like ambrosia, like he's desperate for it.

As the taste of you fills his mouth, he lets out a raged groan — equal parts relief for what he's been given and frenzy for what he still needs. His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your head, long fingers tangling in your hair as he tilts your head further. He's insatiable, now that he's had a taste of his newly wedded wife, his other hand gripping your thigh and sliding up, up, up under your skirt towards your ass, pushing up the lacy hem of your dress.

Then, before he can reach the curve of your backside, his fingers bump against something frilly and elastic, and he lets out a low, pained groan when he realizes it's a garter.

"Fuck, baby," he pants — almost whimpers — against your lips, his fingers toying with the scalloped edges. "I thought you said this shit was — what did you call it? — trad wife propaganda to make a spectacle out of your virginity?"

You pull back just enough to smile up at him, your teeth lightly grazing his lower lip as you do. He chases you momentarily, dilated pupils trained on your swollen, spit-glossed lips. You whisper, quiet and intimate, "Well, I'm not a virgin, and there's no one here to watch. Do you like it?"

Teasingly, so he doesn't lose the upper hand, he pulls the garter an inch and lets the elastic band snap! back into place against your outer thigh. You jump a little at the slight sting, a soft gasp escaping from between your lips. "I love it. Now, let me do this right." And before you can protest, or even ask what he means, he's finally backing you up against the edge of the bed and laying you down across the sheets and rose petals.

He takes a moment to look down at you, his bright eyes — lidded, now, with lust — trailing over every perfect inch of you. They trace your facial features, your pretty eyes and tempting lips, even the angle of your chin that leads lower. They trace the elegant slope of your neck, the curve of your collarbones into your shoulders, then back to your sternum where his view is obscured by your sweetheart neckline.

He grunts at the sight, the sound playful but needy at the edges. His large, warm palms glide up your plush thighs, pushing underneath your skirt.

And then his lips follow the path his eyes took, kissing his way down your face, your neck, your chest. Then he moves lower, settling his broad shoulders between your thighs, and ducks his head under your skirt, too.

His breath ghosts over your inner thighs, and your back arches just a little off the bed, expecting him to kiss his way up towards your cunt. But instead he kisses his way towards the top curve of your thigh, pausing when he reaches the frilly white garter.

He parts his lips and takes the lace between his teeth, and he slowly, teasingly, reverently tugs the elastic band down your thigh. As he does, his warm breath causes goosebumps to rise along your skin, and his lips brush your thigh as he drags the garter towards your knee.

Your pussy clenches at the languid, intimate sensations.

You can't see his expression beneath your skirt; he's fully obscured, hidden beneath the lace. But you can feel every movement he makes like electricity crackling over your skin, and your breathing starts to hitch at his light touches. You feel his rumbling hum against the sensitive skin of your thigh, and when the elastic finally crests your knee, he drags the garter off in one final, fluid movement. He finally emerges from beneath your skirt, his hair rumpled and his eyes heated as he meets your eyes once more.

The sight of that lace between his teeth makes the flame in your belly burst into an uncontrollable burn.

He turns his head and drops the garter to the bed beside you, and then he's moving back up your body, his hands still roaming your thighs beneath your dress, hiking the white fabric up around your hips. Both of you are breathing heavier, now, sharing heated air between your lips before he finally kisses you again, his mouth insistent on yours. His hands reach the curve of your ass and start kneading the plump flesh there, his fingers digging in as he pulls your hips forward to rock against his.

The delicious friction of his bulge nudging your thinly covered clit makes your head fall back against the pillows. You feel sparks of pleasure all the way to your fingertips every time your hips roll against each other. His eyes watch your reaction, taking it in and filing it away like he does with everything about you. He starts a slow but firm rhythm, the coarse fabric of his slacks dragging against the sheer fabric of your panties.

When your lashes start to flutter, pleasure burning through your core, he raises one hand to thread his fingers through your hair and keep you in place. "Eyes on me, baby," he pants against your lips, forcing you to watch him while he teases you.

You let out a soft, desperate whine, your brows creasing in a supplicant expression. You want him, need him, have waited to have him like this and now it feels like you're racing against the clock and you have to feel him, your husband, inside you before he leaves—

But he doesn't rush. He just grinds against you, soft grunts and little pants escaping. And all the while, your gazes are locked, intertwined so intimately it feels like you really are one soul now.

Bound forever, in love, in life, in death.

His hips start to stutter at the peak of each thrust, now, and you can feel his cock throbbing, twitching against your own swollen clit. A low, breathless groan rumbles through his chest. "Fuck," he whispers, his voice shaking slightly with the effort of holding himself back. "I g-gotta feel you, or I'm gonna—" He swallows thickly, his fingers tightening at your hips. "I'm gonna fucking cum before we get started."

You giggle quietly, your hands sinking into his thick hair. He shivers at the touch, his hips jerking against yours again. "I wouldn't mind seeing that," you tease, leaning in to nuzzle his nose affectionately with yours.

He lets out another playful growl, leaning in and pressing more messy, noisy kisses to your cheek and jaw, making you giggle harder again. "Next time," he promises, pulling away with an obnoxious mwahhh just to move his hands from your hips to the zipper between your shoulder blades.

His hand is warm against your spine as he drags the zipper down, opening up your last-minute wedding dress like you are, indeed, a perfectly wrapped gift.

Then he helps shimmy the dress down your body, and you lift your hips so he can remove it fully and drop it off the end of the bed.

His breath catches at the sight of your sheer white lingerie, and his hands pause at your hips like he can't believe you're so radiant beneath him.

"God," he huffs softly, shaking his head in disbelief as he traces his eyes over every inch of you. Your tits are cupped perfectly in unlined lace, and the white teddy follows the natural curves of your body, a thin lace gusset barely hiding what lies beneath. "My wife is so fucking beautiful." His voice shakes again, but this time it's with the overwhelming emotion flowing through him, affection and awe and astonishment that you're his for the rest of his life, and for every moment after.

Your eyes soften, and one hand trails down from his hair to gently stroke his cheek. "I love you," you whisper, for the millionth time, knowing it will never be enough.

He lets out a heavy breath and leans back in to kiss you, catching your lips with ragged desperation. His palm grazes up your tummy towards your breasts, cupping one and giving a gentle, lingering squeeze before moving to the other.

"I love you, too," he rasps against your mouth, sounding winded, like the sheer amount of love in his body has knocked the breath out of him. "So, so much."

And then he slowly, gently removes your lingerie, leaving you — finally — fully bare beneath him.

He's still fully dressed, even as he lowers himself between your thighs, pushing your knees apart so his shoulders can fit. His eyes finally lock on your dripping, puffy cunt, and he lets his breath brush against your slick folds for one long moment, then two. Your hips rise in anguish, a soft whine bubbling up as you wordlessly beg him to taste you…

He relents, and drags his tongue against your heated core, letting out a deep groan as his eyes roll back at your taste. He licks from your dripping, clenching entrance to your throbbing clit, and you let out a soft sigh of relief as he finally touches you. Your cunt quivers under the stimulation, and your thighs twitch on either side of his head as pleasure sparks deep inside your gut.

And then, all at once, he's no longer teasing. No longer holding back. He spreads your folds with his thumbs and starts to feast, like he's been starving for you all day. He sucks on your clit, shooting another arc of tingling pleasure through you. Your pussy squeezes desperately around nothing, and it's so much so suddenly that you cry out, your hips jolting against his mouth.

His eyes sparkle with satisfaction as he raises them to meet yours, and one hand comes up to hold your hip firmly against the mattress.

He suckles on your clit in deep, rhythmic pulls, his tongue rubbing insistently against it for dual stimulation. You feel your clit throb harder, your cunt clench tighter, and you let out a weak plea, "Oh, god…!"

He never once pulls away, not even to smirk up at you and teasingly ask, "Already, baby?" He knows you need this, need him to draw this pleasure out of you like poison out of a wound, and he knows just how to eat you out to make you lose your mind. You chase the pleasure he so willingly and eagerly gives, feebly rolling your hips against his tongue. The motion grinds your clit so perfectly that you can't help but cry out another symphony of needy whimpers and drawn out moans.

Even after all these years, your climax comes crashing down on you embarrassingly quick. Your head hits the pillows, and you're practically singing for him while he plays you like his favorite instrument. Your walls clamp down hard, your thighs going rigid as you finally tumble over the edge of the peak of tear-jerking pleasure. The moans that fall from your lips are loud and uninhibited, and you can feel the pride radiating off of him as he helps you ride out your orgasm, his tongue never stopping its quick, determined movements against your clit.

But when your hips finally fall still against the mattress and your chest rises and falls with blissed out gasps, he doesn't pull away. He keeps his eyes on your face, his hands on your hips, and his mouth on your clit.

Your eyes roll back, your fingers curl desperately into the sheets for something to hold onto, and your back arches into a brutal curve. Another loud moan rips its way out of you, so intense you're sure the neighbors are already calling the front desk to make a noise complaint. The pleasure that had no chance to recede now continues to build, heat flaring through you so brightly that it's nearly blinding, your vision flashing white. But Satoru doesn't ease up; he just continues sucking on your clit, keeping that same steady, mind-melting rhythm.

Your first orgasm doesn't even have time to end before you're cumming again on his tongue. And still he doesn't stop, too caught up in the sights and sounds of your pleasure to pull away. You try to roll out from under him, the motions thoughtless and instinctual as the sensations crest, almost too intense now. But his fingers dig into your hips more firmly, keeping you locked beneath him as he watches your expression crumple, your moans turning into thoughtless cries as you finally release the sheets, only to grip his hair tightly, sobbing out his name. You're not even sure if you're trying to push him away or pull him closer.

"F-fuck," you hiccup, your back rising off the bed once more as your voice pitches higher and higher, "I-I'm gonna—"

He hums against your clit, never slowing or interrupting his rhythm as he nods, just a little. Encouraging you, telling you it's okay, more than okay, exactly what he wants from you.

With his permission, you shatter.

The tension that has been building in your pelvis and abdomen and thighs, the tightness in your muscles that felt so good it was almost painful, finally gives way to shuddering waves of intensity. Your brain is mush; you're not even sure this is pleasure anymore. It feels more like desolation, destruction, the tearing apart of your mind and piecing it together in the way he conducts it.

As you cum once more, your sobbing moans filling the suite with broken, melodic tones, you feel that tension melt in the inferno of your ecstasy, and that burning heat erupts between your legs, soaking Satoru's chin and lips and parts of his cheeks.

You can't see him through your dark, hazy vision, or past the single tear that sears its way down your temple towards your hairline, but he's looking up at you like you just offered him nectar of the gods.

When the waves finally settle, and your body sags against the bed, Satoru finally lets go with a lewd pop. He doesn't pull away, though, instead slowly and gently licking you clean, his eyes still on your face the whole time.

Your mind is so foggy, pulverized to dust after the back-to-back orgasms, that you don't even really process that he's still touching you. Your body is almost numb in the wake of your pleasure, tingling up your limbs all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. Your chest heaves with each burdened gasp, your eyes half-open but unseeing as you let the aftershocks slowly bleed out of you. It takes you a couple minutes to get your breathing under control, and even once it starts to slow, you still can't lift your head from the pillows. Finally, once he's mostly cleaned you up — there's little he can do about the damp spot in the sheets below you — he lifts his head and grins up at you, pressing a gentle, affectionate kiss to your trembling thigh.

"Good, baby?" he asks softly, pulling away just enough to wipe his mouth with the sleeve of his dress shirt. You just watch him, still panting softly, but a small, hazy smile tugs at the corners of your lips.

He smiles back and presses one last kiss to your thigh before trailing his kisses upwards once more. They're slower, now, more intimate. He pauses momentarily with every press of his lips, letting you feel the heat of his mouth and the adoration behind each kiss. As he works his way up your body, his body finally presses against yours again, his hard, aching dick pressing between your puffy lower lips. His hips settle between yours, and he groans as your heat seeps right through his slacks.

You whimper and move your hands to his sides, tugging impatiently on the crisp fabric of his dress shirt. "Why are you still dressed?" you complain, pouting when he pulls back to look at your face.

He lets out a breathless laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans in to whisper teasingly in your ear, "Impatient, are we?"

Before you can answer, or whine again, he leans back, kneeling tall between your legs, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. You watch as he does, watch his long slender fingers work over the buttons, watch the way the tendons in his hands flex and contract, watch the way shadows shift over the veins there, making his hands look capable and strong. You watch as the buttons come undone, watch his hands move lower with every inch of his thin undershirt he reveals.

He reaches the last button, tugging the fabric away from his broad shoulders. Then he grabs the undershirt at the back of the collar, pulling it over his head in a seductive move that makes your pussy throb every time you see him do it.

He tosses the undershirt aside, and when he looks back at you, you're still staring.

His grin turns lopsided and cocky as he watches you take him in. "Like what you see?" he taunts playfully, reaching for his belt now.

You sit up slightly, pressing your bare chest against his. His breath catches at the sudden contact, but he doesn't push you back down; he lets you raise your hands to his ribs, lets you trace every ridge of his muscular sides and chest.

You slowly dip your fingers along the line between his abs, watching them jump beneath your touch. "Let me," you whisper, running a delicate nail down his coarse happy trail all the way to the waistband of his pants.

As your hands close in around the buckle of his belt, you hear him swallow harshly. One of his strong, capable hands reaches back to thread through your hair once more, just for something to hold onto as you unbuckle his belt and slowly slide the premium leather through the loops, the fabric hissing softly.

You pop open the button and metal closure of his pants, too, and quietly drag down the zipper. But instead of pulling them down, you let the fabric hang open, his obscene bulge only thinly obscured by his tight black boxers. You sit for a moment, letting him stew, just like he had when he was undressing you. Then you lean forward those few final inches and start pressing kisses — equally slow and sensual — against his chest and belly. Your tongue drags, hot and slow, up his sternum, and he shudders against your mouth, his head falling back with a soft groan. His fingers tighten in the hair at the back of your head, pressing your mouth more firmly against his skin.

He worshiped you; now you want to return the favor.

His skin on your lips and tongue is warm and smooth, and he tastes like soap and a hint of sweat. His pale skin is so easy to mark that you can't help but bite down on his shoulders, his neck, his pecs. You suck loving little bruises everywhere you can reach, and as one hand curls through his hair, right above his undercut, to hold his head aside while you kiss and bite and lick his throat, the other runs slowly over his chest and abs, back down to where he's hard and leaking beneath his underwear.

He lets out another groan, this one turning into a needy whine at the end. His cock throbs against your palm, and when your touch ventures lower so you can teasingly cup and squeeze his balls through the fabric, he grabs your hand to stop you.

His voice is strained when he says, "I wasn't kidding before; I'm gonna cum in my fucking pants if you keep touching me like that."

Before you can respond, before you can say that you weren't kidding when you said you'd love to see that for yourself, he gives your shoulder a gentle, guiding push back towards the mattress.

When you're comfortably nestled back against the pillows once more, your eyes never leaving his flushed face, he reaches down and hurries to pull down his pants and boxers in one frantic movement. Once he chucks the fabric off the end of the bed towards the opposite corner of the suite, he's on top of you again, leaning down to kiss you, his lips clumsy against yours.

You moan into his mouth as his tongue messily swipes against yours; you love when he gets like this, losing that omnipresent control he has over his entire body in favor of letting you see and hear and feel him at his rawest moments. His hand trembles and fumbles as he takes his cock in hand and nudges the tip against your sensitive cunt, the tip bumping your clit just enough to make your hips jolt again.

Then the thick head slowly sinks inside you, stretching you open in the most devastating and loving way.

He lets out another breathy whimper, his fingers curling into the pillowcase beside your head. You can see the tension in his shoulders, the willpower it takes to go slow and not ravage you in this bed. He lets out a shaky breath against your neck and pushes in another inch, his motion smooth and slow, even as his hand tightens into a fist to try and control himself.

The fullness inside you is almost immediately overwhelming. He stretches you out so perfectly, fills you to the brim and then a little further, reaching places you've only ever fantasized about before him. The slide is easy, with how wet you are, but he still takes it slow, making you wait to feel him fully inside.

You drag your palms up his muscular back, feeling every swell and ridge as you pull him tighter against your chest until you can feel his heartbeat against yours. You lift your lips to his ear and whisper, "Let me have it… I wanna feel you."

He shudders at your words, his hips jerking as he tries to maintain his slow, tender pace. "I'll f-fucking lose it," he breathes back, his voice ragged, body trembling under your hands. "I can't—"

"Then don't," you say, your voice still hushed in his ear. "I'm yours, however you want me."

His breath stills, and so do the movements of his hips. He's still shaking above you, and his hand clenches even tighter in the pillowcase; you can feel every hard muscle against your body tighten up. You pull away slightly, brows creasing in concern, your lips parting to ask him if he's okay—

Before you can, those strong hands go from gentle and adoring to ruthless and unyielding. He grabs the backs of your thighs and pushes them roughly towards your chest, punching a squeal from between your lips. His gaze is intense, now, trained on your dripping cunt instead of your face, and he watches his length drive inside you mercilessly. His lips part, and those beautiful eyes roll back into his head, and he moans like he's the one getting fucked this deep, this roughly, this all-consumingly.

You, the willing and eager subject of his desperation, can only arch beneath him and let out a wordless cry that rings out loudly in the hotel room.

"My beautiful wife," he whispers, his adoring words soothing the ache that his pistoning hips cause. He hikes one of your legs up further, throwing it over his shoulder to free his hand, just so he can reach up and cradle your cheek, his thumb hooking under your chin so he has a hold on your jaw to tilt your face towards his. You lean into his touch, whimpering as he bullies deeper, holding you so tenderly while he snaps his hips into yours. "Such a p-perfect fucking pussy… so tight and w-warm…" He groans again, leaning in to catch your lips in a bruising kiss before he pulls away just enough to pant into your mouth, "F-fuck, I'm cumming—"

And you, to encourage him, to draw it out, to send him over the edge, let your walls clench tightly around him, your own moans tumbling out as his rhythm falters. He lets out a low groan that pitches into a whine, his movements becoming uncoordinated but no less intense as he chases his peak. His body shudders beneath your hands, between your legs, and then his muscles all tighten and he drops his head to your shoulder, chanting breathless praises as he cums deep inside you, your leg still hitched over his shoulder to keep you open.

"So good," he whispers brokenly against your neck, "so good for me."

You feel every twitch of his cock inside you, every hot pulse of cum painting your walls, and it makes your pussy quiver, knowing that he's filling you up as your husband this time.

You can tell the thought is driving him crazy, too. He's still trembling as his orgasm bleeds out of him, leaving him heavy on top of you, and your hands are soft and soothing on his back. You feel him relax against your body, and you let your eyes close, enjoying the moment, the intimacy, the peace.

Then you feel his chest expand with a deep inhale, and he pulls away from the crook of your neck. Your eyes flutter open, and you expect him to be looking at you in that soft, loving way that usually indicates the night is slowly ending and you'll soon be drifting off, wrapped in his arms.

Instead, you open your eyes to find Satoru's on yours, intense and glowing with a faint, feral light.

A thrill runs up your spine, and you can feel the slight buzz of his cursed energy flaring against your skin. You part your lips to ask what he's doing, to tease if he's finally going to show off what he can do when he's riled up, but then you feel his softening cock twitch once inside you.

Then your eyes widen when you feel him getting hard inside you again.

"Satoru!" you whisper, and his fingers dig into your plush hips, like he's holding onto whatever control he has left. "Are you—?"

He doesn't let you continue. He just grabs your other leg, now, and props it on his shoulder, spreading you open as wide as he can. His chest is still heaving up and down after his orgasm, but his RCT brings his body right back onto the field for another round. He leans back slightly so he can watch his cock slide in and out of your cunt, his glossy lips parted as a thick ring of white forms around the base.

"Fuck, look at that," he chokes out, his hands moving back to your thighs to push them flat against your chest, holding you in half while your feet dangle helplessly over his shoulders. "So fucking pretty. Look so good all full of me. Gonna f-fill you up so much."

You whine at the change in position; every thrust now drives his cock right against your g-spot, and that familiar pressure builds more intense in your pelvis. He leans over you once more, his lips right above yours, panting as he fucks down into you. "Come on, baby," he says, his expression half wild with need. "Tell me you want it. Tell me to fill you up till it's dripping out of you."

He's fucking the air right out of your lungs, and your eyes are dazed and mind hazy as you stare desperately into his eyes, but you manage to breathlessly stammer out, "Y-yes, I w-want it."

He pins your legs further against your chest, smushing your tits under your thighs as he drives in faster, harder. Pleasure sparks down to your toes, and you feel like you're gonna burst again, but he keeps going, going, going, forcing you through it. "How bad, hm baby? How bad do you want it?"

You sob out a moan, thighs shaking between your chest and his. "S-so bad, Satoru. W-want to be f-full of you. Want you to—" —hic— "—breed me."

At the word, at the sheer meaning behind it, his whole body locks up, and even his breathing stops for a moment before he lets out a low, shuddering groan and starts up again with new fervor. "You better mean that," he growls, "because now I'm not resting until it takes."

You nod desperately, eyes rolling back and lips falling open in a silent cry as he abuses that spot inside you that sends you reeling. Sparks flash behind your eyes, and he doesn't let up, even as that pressure in your belly explodes once more into another climactic gush. He doesn't even take a moment to pause; he just fucks you through it, the wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping filling the suite.

When he cums again, he drags his hips against yours in a slow, ragged grind. And this time, he doesn't slow down before his RCT crackles across his shoulders and his dick hardens once more inside you.

He doesn't stop, or even pause, until he's so sensitive it hurts.

Sweat drips down his temples, and every breath is ragged against your neck. His muscular body trembles with the effort to stay on top of you, to fill you just one more time, to make sure it takes because, in the end, he's not sure you'll have much else to remember him by if this all goes sideways.

And fuck, does he hope it doesn't go sideways.

He wants, desires so deeply it carves a hollow in his chest, to have this life with you. This is just the beginning of your story as husband and wife, and he wants all the rest of the plot, too. Maybe he's selfish, but he thinks he deserves to be after all this time.

He tries to convince his body to keep moving. To just gather his strength, like he has so many times before, and fuck his wife like you deserve.

But his arms shake violently as he props himself up over you, and his breath is heavy and ragged, and for a few moments, he can't decide between keeping up the fight and finally letting himself rest.

Your gentle hands — shaking, too, but still cradling him like the center of your universe — convince him of the latter.

He practically collapses on top of you, his worn and exhausted muscles trembling against your soft body. His breath is hot and labored as he presses his face into your neck, and he doesn't even have the energy to pull out yet.

You don't complain; you never do. You just hold him, your own body relaxing beneath his as you both revel in the afterglow.

Time passes in a fugue, the edges of both your consciousnesses hazy, like evening light through the blinds. Eventually he finally lifts himself back up, pressing a tired, loving kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out. Semen floods out of you onto the sheets below, and his movements are tender as he wipes you clean with a warm, soft washcloth.

When he comes back to bed, a towel now beneath your hips so you don't have to lie in the cold, damp spot of the evidence of your mutual release, he gingerly pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped around your shoulders as you rest your head over his heart.

You're both quiet for a while. His fingers, exhausted but somehow restless, trace faint shapes over your belly, like he's imagining what he may have given you there. His eyes are closed, those long frosty lashes resting against the tops of his cheekbones, and you watch your husband for a long, quiet moment.

Eventually, when you can no longer help it, you speak. Your voice shakes a little as you whisper, breaking the silence, "Satoru?"

He hums, his arm tightening around your shoulders. His eyes don't open. "What is it, baby?" he mumbles, sounding half asleep and drunk in the aftermath.

Faintly, like you don't want to admit it, "I'm scared."

His hand pauses its motions on your tummy. But after a short moment, he just lets out a soft, casual chuckle and starts rubbing again. "Don't be scared," he says, his voice quiet and confident. He doesn't even open his eyes. "I'm the strongest."

But you can feel the tension beneath his words, and you know he's scared, too.

You rest your head back on his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you towards sleep. And you don't know what's coming tomorrow, or the day after that, but at least for now, you're in the arms of your lover, your new husband, on a honeymoon you wish would last just a little bit longer.

Although he truly didn't need to, for other ninjas were simply at his snap.

But Kakashi Hatake, although an old man – although he hated how you used his maturity to remind him that some things needed to be taken care of with utmost responsibility – enjoyed anything but fulfilling his Hokage's duties.

And so the reports piled up, while he slipped out of his office early in the morning, only to return late at night, after the crickets had chirped their last melody.

This night was no different, as he suddenly rolled into his office, half-undressed in his daily ninja armour, wearing nothing but a tight, sleeveless shirt, its long collar covering his lips.

He didn't simply walk, but rather stumbled – with deep breaths escaping his tightened throat and hands shivering, as if a sickness had struck his mind.

"Kakashi?" Your head tilted as you still stood by the window.

A gentle wind swirled your hair, carrying the sweet scent of your skin towards his burning face. His eyes, one crimson, kissed, the other obsidian, looked up with an almost miserable frown, before a groan slipped past his lips.

It seemed he wasn't happy to see you in his office at such an hour, but what could you do? Being the Hokage's assistant felt almost as if you were the village's chief yourself!

Only a moment had passed before your eyes slipped lower. Towards his legs, thighs, with one of them leaking barely visible, vermilion liquid. A metallic smell of his blood was suddenly more palpable than ever, and so a low gasp fell from your lips.

You quickly drew closer, catching his massive body before it could hit the floor with a weak groan.

"Kakashi, what the hell happened?"

But it seemed that your touch burned more than the wound itself, as he gently pushed you away with a, "P-please, don't come any closer."

Droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping leisurely as he hung his head. Arms barely holding on, trembling as he walked towards a soft chair in the corner of his office and sat with a low groan.

Or rather a moan, as your eyes involuntarily fell towards his bulging trousers, noticing a painfully hard swell.

"Kakashi, what happened?" You pose, putting a hand on your hip. "Where have you been?"

He grabbed the armrest and leaned back, letting the black collar finally expose his panting, fallen lips.

"Nothing, d-don't worry," he murmured, yet his voice was low and honey-dripping, as if on the verge of losing his mind. "Please, go back home."

But you didn't move. Didn't even breathe, watching the massive man writhing in the cushioned armchair, sweat rolling down his temple, eyes lidded by the fire bubbling in his loins.

Nothing.

He was a man who always kept the problems to himself.

Not solely the problems, but desires too. Erotica-kind-of-guy, who read some filthy romances during his office hours yet kept blushing whenever you swirled a lock of hair around your finger.

Built from muscle upon muscle, with a handsome jaw and sharp eyes, a nasty, salacious scar slashing across his crimson one.

Always an utmost kind gentleman, who somehow kept himself away from women. Everyone thought so because Hokage had never been seen with a female ninja, nor even with a simple villager. He hid behind the office walls instead or went on lone missions.

Yet you knew Kakashi Hatake wasn't the apathetic, almost impotent man some people took him for. Because you felt his deep eyes following your figure as you came and went from his office. Staying a bit longer on your naked thighs whenever you wore a skirt, and on the way, throwing knives hugged them tightly, until the muscles bulged under the leather straps.

You knew he liked the sweet scent of your perfumes, deep and almost nauseating in their warmth, yet always wrapping around him like the petals' gentlest kisses. He followed the movement of your soft lips, eyes mingling beneath the sunlight spilling into his office, hair always looking so soft and shiny, like the satin scarf he wished to wrap around his neck.

And so after working with you for a while, Kakashi decided that the safest option to not get himself embarrassed with the way his cock always leaked whenever you entered his office in the morning – would be to quickly disappear. To go out in the morning and slip back late at night, while Hokage's office was left with nothing but the faint traces of your sweetness.

He thought he was clever, sly. That you didn't know how mellow you made him feel.

That's why he thought that you would simply nod and leave him be. With cock painfully straining his briefs and mind slowly slipping into pleasurable dizziness.

Instead, to his utter dissatisfaction, you observed him carefully, squinting, your gaze moving between his shallow wound and the flushed, blooming face that dripped with arousal.

"What did they spike you with?" You sighed, crossing arms over your chest. "Hm? What is it? A poison?"

His head shook, a few wisps of snowy hair sticking to his wet forehead. Almond-shaped eyes, much more lidded than usual, as his gaze wandered over your body.

Skirt hugging your hips sweetly and a tight sleeveless shirt, quite similar to his, clinging like a second skin. He didn't need much to imagine you were already naked. With body-hugging clothes in dresses so tight, he could clearly see every deeper rise of your soft belly.

You came closer, slowly, snapping in front of his eyes. "Hello? I can't help you if you won't tell me what's going on."

Your smell was painfully pleasant, so he quickly, with a single move, pulled the collar back over his nose.

"Please j-just go, I–mhmm," another groan escaped his throat as you came even closer.

This time, you stood right between his spread thighs as he tried every way possible to apply a bit of pressure around his hips. You leaned closer, putting your arms on the chair's handles and lowering yourself to meet his eye level.

"What happened? Tell me, because there's no way I'm leaving our Hokage in such a state."

Such miserable, innocent, pure, giving you every chance to push his sweet buttons and tease his wrecked mind.

Kakashi furrowed as the warmth radiating from your body slowly slipped beneath his tight collar. His throat bobbed as his finger slowly pulled the material down, allowing a quiet "Aphrodisiac" to fill the serene office.

With a few candles still dimly flickering on his desk, and the moon's shy kisses bathing your blooming face in a virgin glow.

Something wicked danced behind your eyes. A mischievousness of sorts, as you hummed and slowly, leisurely, sank to your knees.

"What are you doing?" Kakashi gasped, following the lovely pout that twisted your lips. "Wait–" His fingers tried to grab your hands as they slipped towards his hips, yet you gently smacked them.

"What do you mean? I'm only helping our dear Hokage, of course," your devilish voice mingled with the faint melody of the crickets. "As I do believe, our Hokage is wise enough to know how to get rid of…" With a single move, you pulled his trousers down to the middle of his beefy thighs. "This problem. Right?"

The moment his briefs slipped off his hips, the fat, leaking head smacked into your cheek with a wet smudge. Pearly droplets spattered his abdomen, and only then did you notice that–

"Did you just cum?"

His throat bobbed and brows furrowed as a sudden wave of arousal smooched your spine.

"T-twice."

You giggled, biting down on lower lip. Fingers clenched on his meaty thighs, digging into the milky skin. "Why?"

Your warm breath hit his cock, veins bulging and curling around the fat shaft. You leaned closer, plush lips kissing its softly and spilling another needy groan from his lips.

"Tell me," you demanded, spreading his thighs wider. "Why did you cum twice, Kakashi?"

A moany fuck hit your warm cheeks when you licked off the pearly cum still dripping from his swollen head.

"You know why." His long fingers gripped the armrests, head falling back to reveal pale neck. "Baby, fuck, c-can you suck on it?"

A demon must have taken over his mind. A wicked spirit of some sort, as Kakashi, in his mature, gentlemanly age, would never, ever say such filth to his young assistant.

Not that young, too, yet almost ten years youthful, with the loveliest cheeks already smiling foxily and a wet tongue licking his trembling shaft from balls up to the feverish head. The spit mixing with the last droplets of semen, trickling down his cock like a crystal thread.

"No, I don't think so," you chuckled, nuzzling your lips against his head without taking it into your warm mouth. "Tell me why. Did my sole presence turn our Hokage on that much?"

He nodded without giving it much thought, although it was the truth. Your presence did, in fact, make him pathetically cum right into his slacks.

"Mmm," a sweet hum bounced off his cock, as you placed in its top a gentle kiss. Before taking a deep, nasty sniff, and letting his mind spin into madness. "Did your younger assistant turn you on that much?"

"Stop," he groaned, feeling the last threads of his patience slowly tearing. "J-just, fuck, let's pretend it's a one-time t-thing."

You knew it was a lie.

And he also knew – from the moment you slipped him past your lips, and he immediately cummed right onto your tongue. The sole warmth of your mouth and those wicked, foxy eyes looking up at him with a squint were enough to send another ripping pleasure down his spine.

Big hands instantly falling onto your head, forearms bulging from restraint he desperately tried to cling to, yet still pushing you down his cock. Till the full, fat length slipped into your mouth, pulsing head hitting the back of your throat.

A crying choke tried to escape your throat, but instead your fingers dug into his beefy thighs, leaving nasty, crimson scratches.

He didn't give you a second to get used to his full length, instead moving your head up and down his cock. With swollen lips and tears dancing in the corners of your eyes, you gagged on his musty, delicious fatness while he fucked your throat without a drop of usual gentleness.

Legs spreading wider, crimson eyes mingling in pleasure at your full cheeks and trembling hands, as you took him fully without a fight. Instead, clenching your own thighs and rubbing them together, just to feel your drenched panties brush the swollen clit.

"Such a good fucking throat," Kakashi muttered, another wave of pleasure bubbling in his loins. "I swear, fuck, I swear it's only a one-off. Only once, baby. For all those days you've been teasing me like a little slut."

You wished to laugh, to chuckle, to tease him back. Yet your eyes rolled back, and heavy breaths escaped through your nose as he dragged his length relentlessly through your throat. You felt its mass on your tongue – each vein pulsing beneath your breath, the sizzling head smooching the back of your throat.

His thumbs brushed away tears dripping down your cheeks. "Shh, baby, don't cry. You're doing such a good job, f-fuck–"

He groaned as your pace quickened. A bit sloppier, with the filthy squelching and your gagging filling the quiet space of his office. Candles cast a gentle glow on your teary cheeks; the moon kissed his milky hair, sticking to sweating forehead.

He was ready to cum any second, spill his semen right onto your throat and watch your cheeks burst from it in a lovely pout.

But instead, you suddenly pulled away.

"Wha-" He didn't finish, when you pressed lips to his, in a messy, vile kiss.

First load of his cum still sweetly coating your tongue, as you pushed to his mouth. Letting a few creamy droplets layer his palate as he moaned right into your grinning lips.

"How could you cum in my throat, dear Hokage? You chuckled, lifting your soaked panties to the side, and giving him a clear view of your juices dripping down his swollen cock. "Such a waste of resources, don't you think?"

Kakashi could only nod – madly, unconsciously, savouring the warmth radiating from your wet pussy.

"Why won't you fill my womb instead?" Another wicked giggle, smooched his blooming cheeks, as you pressed your entrance to his leaking head. Hands on his muscular arms, to let yourself slowly, painfully lower onto his fat cock. "Allow me to give you an heir. Spill into your assistant's fertile womb and make me a mommy."

Kakashi felt unbearable, a pinching desire smouldering across every part of his body. In his eyes, your figure, hanging over his massive, trembling body, seemed like a tempting demon of sorts. A succubus, and if he squinted enough, with the aphrodisiac still filling his body with a lustful mist, a shadow dancing behind your head looked almost like two lovely horns.

His head slipped inside, the rest of the cock following in, sending a wave of maddening pleasure over his spine. Strong hands gripped your hips, trying to lift you up a little, as if his mind still tried to resonate with the urge to nuzzle himself deep within your warmth.

"Baby, f-fuck, we can't–"

Usually, you wouldn't have a chance against his brutal strength, yet this time you easily pushed through his grip. Lowering yourself with a sweet moan, head falling back.

"Mhmm, Kakashi, you fill me so good," you sighed, feeling his fat cock tremble deep within the clutches of your cunt. "I can't believe you didn't fuck me sooner."

He couldn't listen to you. He couldn't stand the way your pussy clenched around his spilling cock, sugary scent wrapped around his mind, sweetening the salty cum that still coated his tongue.

He filled you so well, with a slightly curved head brushing your sweet spot just right, as you started rolling your hips up and down.

With hands gripping his arms and face leaning towards his fallen mouth, to lick a little beauty spot right beneath his lower lip. Kiss it wetly, to draw another deep groan past his throat.

"Don't fight it, Kakashi," you pledged, biting down on his lower lip. "Just let me take care of you," your hands grabbed his, sliding them up and down your velvety skin.

Your pussy sent a few pulses down his shaft as you clenched on him with a muffled moan. Lips connecting with his again, wetly, messily, pressing your chest to his.

He finally gave in.

Strong arms curling around your waist, pulling you closer to his heated body. Hips bucking up to meet every mean roll of your hips, the tip of his cock finally hitting your womb in dripping squelching.

Your juices dripping down his slacks, eyes rolling back as he pounded you at a merciless pace. Almost painful whenever his cock slid through the tight walls of your pussy, tearing another moan from your throat.

His crimson eye followed the lustful expressions pouting on your face, each more maddening than the last, forcing a scowl between his milky eyebrows.

"K-Kakashi–mmmm–you're filling me so good," you snapped, wrapping your hands around his neck. Your hips bounced with a nasty squelch, as the pleasure already bubbled in your lower belly.

"Maybe I should get hurt more often," he groaned, one arm slipping down between your bodies, to roll your clit through the flimsy material of your panties. "If that's how–ngh–you're planning to treat me."

His rough fingers pressed the swollen button, feeling the foul juices drip from the soaked fabric.

You nodded, letting a sweet moan hit his rosy cheeks. "Y-yeah, ahhh, I'll let you fill my pussy every single day."

It felt impossible to fight the desire that bubbled in Hokage's loins for all those months. So Kakashi could do nothing but press his hips to yours, until his balls smooched the swell of your ass and head nuzzled against the puffy womb.

With the last shudder and your moan splashing past your lips – he came. Flooded your pussy with sticky stripes of burning cum, cramming it right inside your weeping womb. His whimpers mixed with your cries, as he pulled you closer and connected your lips in a last kiss. Full of passion, desire, lined with months looking over your shoulders with the burning need to fuck out all the craving that bubbled within you for this whole time.

Your heavy pantings filled the warm office.

"So–" But you didn't finish when he suddenly stood up.

With you pussy still clenching around his hard, aphrodisiac-spiked cock and cum dripping down the wooden floors.

All the documents piling up on his desk fell to the floor in a crying mess, and a gasp caught in your throat when he laid you down on its big surface.

"I spent all day–" He shushed you with a kiss, licking your lips and brushing warm cheek with his thumb.

"Sorry, baby. Let me use your pretty pussy for a bit longer, hm?" He muttered, pressing your thighs against your chest. "Just a bit, fuck, let me breed you again, yeah? It's your Hokage's order."

And how could you call yourself a good assistant if you didn't fulfil it with utmost pleasure!

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Wanted to clean the palate and remembered that jjk is actually not the only fandom I can write for lmao

The car was rolling slowly along the forest road, all your friends arguing about something that was still understandable to your still-dizzy mind.

A low "Auch" slipped past your lips when Shoko accidentally hit your ribs with an elbow.

"Sorry," she sighed, bending double to check whether the thing they were all looking for was under the seat. "It's not here either."

Suguru, in the driver's seat, sighed and slammed his fist against the wheel. "Satoru, you're such an fucking idiot."

Cursing in the passenger seat, Satoru checked his bag again and again before opening the glove box. Long fingers searched through the condoms and stacks of cigarettes, still not finding the thing everyone was frantically looking for.

"I swear, I left it here," Satoru groaned, pointing at the box.

"What's going on?" You murmured, peeking at Shoko, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She sighed. "Satoru lost the map."

Your eyes widened and lips fell open as you shot a deathly look towards your friend. "What?! Satoru, please tell me you're joking!"

He looked over his shoulder. Milky hair brushed his forehead, and ocean eyes were already squinted in irritation. "I told all of you that giving me a map is not a good idea!"

Utahime, sitting next to Shoko, snorted, and Choso, with Yuki occupying the third row of the van, joined her with mumbled groans.

"Are you five? How could you lose the map?" Utahime groaned, pressing palms to her eyes. "Oh my god, so what now?"

You felt a shiver drip down your spine as the sizzling sun, which had burned your skin just moments before, slipped into a slumber and suddenly disappeared. Instead, a fog rose. It curled and wrapped around Suguru's old van, which was meant to take you straight to the campsite. The rest of the group should already be there, but you still had about two hours of driving.

"Look, the road can't be that fucking complicated," Yuki said, pulling herself up and resting her arms on your headrest. "Let's just drive straight until we find another petrol station. I'm sure they'll have some maps."

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek, cursing under his breath. "We're lost. I know it because that's the third time I've passed this car park."

Everyone leaned towards the right side of the car, following the small spot. The low, stony wall separated it from the slippery cliff overlooking a dense forest. A small body of water, a lake of some sort, peeked through the bending trees, yet the fog was too dense to see it clearly.

He stopped the van at the parking lot, no other soul around.

You wiped your eyes and yawned, opening the van's heavy door.

The air felt cold and crisp, sending shivers down your spine and pinching naked arms with little needles. You took the hoodie from your suitcase, pulling the soft, pinkish material over your top-clothed body. You stepped into the muddy pool in the white trainers, and a groany sigh slipped past your lips as you walked towards the stony wall.

Shoko joined you, a thin cigarette already lit between her fingers, before taking the first draw.

"I did not prepare clothes for such nasty weather," Utahime joined you, curling herself into Shoko's side. "Fuck, where the hell are we? It's been only an hour since we entered the forest. I was literally melting on that station."

Satoru and Suguru were still snapping at each other inside the car, while Choso and Yuki settled on the hood. With an old map from five years ago that was found in the trunk, they started scribbling a new one. They fought like an old couple, with Choso trying to draw neat lines and Yuki pointing her finger at the roads which were no longer used.

You chuckled, turning back to admire the heavy, misty view unfolding before your eyes. A gentle wind carried whispers, and an earthy smell tickled your nostrils. Your foot kicked the little pebble as it rolled and rolled, till it finally fell through the crack in an old stony wall. Trees whistled, a few branches creaking under the gentle mass of the rising fog.

"Are you okay?" Shoko's low voice suddenly brought you back.

Your head turned, a weak smile tugging on your lips. "Yeah, just a bad dream."

Grey smoke curled around her sweet face, brushed with long chestnut hair, slumber eyes trying to decode the restlessness beaming from your gaze.

"You were talking through your sleep."

Another pebble fell down the cliff as you kicked them one by one. Hands deep in the warm sweatpants, you thanked the god for wearing them instead of the shorts.

"Really? Sorry, sometimes it happens."

Shoko hummed, her voice laced with a hint of disbelief. Sometimes.

"You were repeating someone's name."

You bit the plush inside of your cheek, still looking down at your muddy shoes. A visible feeling of curiosity beamed off her eyes, while lips curled around the head of the cigarette. Another cloud of smoke mixed with the fog before she shyly, almost awkwardly, brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

You could already sense her next questions. After all, you've been friends for the past four years, and she'd never heard the name you sometimes repeated in your sleep.

Years of sharing the rented apartment, years of hearing your wailings and cries, always leading to one word only.

"So," she started, helping you kick the pebbles through the crack in the wall. "Do you want to share who's To–"

"Hey everyone!" Choso suddenly called, immediately getting your attention.

Shoko's lips fell into an awkward line before she turned with a muttered curse. In the depth of your mind, you thanked Choso for the timing and whispered, "Sorry, let's talk later," to your dear friend.

"What is it?" Suguru asked, slamming his van's door.

Everyone walked closer to Choso and Yuki, crouching over the old map.

"Here," Choso's finger landed on a crossed mark. "That's where we currently are. And here is the road we should take," he traced the thin line, at some point going outside the forest.

"Great, then let's go," Satoru clasped, turning back towards the passenger's seat.

"Wait," Choso muttered with furrowed brows. "The problem is, this forest road was cut off years ago. We shouldn't even be here. In fact, after leaving the gas station, we were supposed to go here," his finger pointed at the road that went around the dense forest, far away from the coastline stretching behind your hunched backs.

A low fuck slipped past Suguru's lips as he gave a bitter laugh. Satoru took a step back, both hands high in the air – either ready to fight the wrath bubbling beneath Suguru's chest or trying to justify himself for the tenth time.

"I didn't tell you to go through the forest."

Suguru shot him a glare as he bit the soft inside of his cheek. The gentle wind brushed his dishevelled hair, and lavender eyes squinted at his friend.

"I know. I just naturally thought we were supposed to go this way," he squatted with a sigh, head hanging low between his slumped shoulders. "Should we go back to the station?"

"Actually…" Utahime's pitched voice slashed through the foggy air as she pointed her finger at something down the stony wall. "I see a silhouette of the church. Maybe there's a city we can check. I guess they will know the way out of the forest."

Choso's forehead wrinkled as he looked at the map more closely. Finger tracing the point you were supposed to be at, before a faint oh fell from his lips.

"You're right. There is some town here," his hazelnut eyes squinted, a few locks of long hair brushed the pale cheek. "But I can't read the name. There's a coffee stain."

He glanced up at Yuki's cherry cheeks.

"Sorry," she giggled. "I may or may not have spilt a few droplets on it this morning."

She kissed his cheek with a sweet pout before hugging the hoodie closer around her arms. The weather wasn't strictly cold, yet an unpleasant chill bit at everyone's skin, and a nippy fog gently hugged the shivering bodies.

There was something utterly grim yet beautiful about it. The way it floated with an unbothered air, as if gliding over the serene lake and the humming trees long before the dimmed light kissed the chilly earth. It rose high, hugging your ankles, calves, and thighs, as if slowly smooching your skin with frozen kisses.

It moved with you and changed with you, each step dissipating the weak puffs of hazy gloominess before it wrapped itself around you again.

You hid hands in the pockets before covering head with a hood.

"Should we go then?" Shoko sighed, squinting to see the pointed, crossed roof of the church. "Maybe they also have a new map."

A set of old wooden stairs led down towards the little town settled deep in the forest. You had no other option, so, with a heavy sigh, Suguru took a few things from the trunk.

"Here," he said, giving you, Choso, and Utahime a flashlight. "Try not to twist your ankle on this mud."

That said, he slowly walked down the stairs.

A drenched, narrow forest path led deeper into the woods. Trees bent and creaked wickedly over your bodies, humming the melody of long-forgotten memories. Each step rose a wet squelch into the air, as all of you walked in silence, following Suguru carefully.

He bickered with Satoru like an old couple, murmurs and hisses being the only sounds that mixed with the scrape of the old branches.

And as you walked, with each step wetter than the last and the narrow path nearing closer to the old church, something in your chest panged.

Head felt dizzy, almost heavy, as if the trees you passed, the leaves sticking to your shoes, the earthy smell and the old, stony church were a part of some distant memory. The one you tried to forget for a long, long time, as if your mind had simply erased it.

A name of some sort was at the tip of your tongue.

And the deeper you walked, the closer it was slipping towards your lips.

The silence stretched as you left the dense forest and walked next to the first glimmers of the town. Abandoned ranches, a windmill, a cemetery, a church that stood tall and spooky, towering over the gravelly road.

"Why is the fog getting denser?" Utahime shivered, trying to disperse it with her hand. "What is this place?"

Solely shadows and silhouettes appeared on the horizon, with a few more old ranches passing by as you walked deeper. There was no way to tell where you were or which way you were going – the land was cold and wrapped in fog, leaving no option but to immerse yourself blindly.

Something sinister hung in the air. Something that made your chest tighten and tongue fill the inside of the cheek, as if those two words you tried to remember were already tickling its tip.

"Is that a fucking cemetery?" Satoru muttered before he tripped over the small grave. "Fuck, sorry."

Suguru lit the way with the flashlight, casting a few flickers towards the old, long-forgotten tombs.

You've read them, one by one, each letter feeling almost familiar. As if some of them were already deeply carved into your mind, yet closed by a mysterious spell of some sort.

S… the name surely had an s…

"Choso, are you sure we're going the right way?" Satoru asked, instantly pulling a snort from Suguru's throat.

"That's rich coming from you," he muttered, ignoring his friend's deadly glare.

Choso lit the map, hazelnut eyes squinting as if trying to check your position. But as it was rather clear – he couldn't. For the town was simply too small and too unknown for the map to show its narrow, old roads exactly.

"We're on a good path. I guess."

"It's not like we have any other option," Yuki muttered, a grim tugging on her lips as she traced all the neglected stones. "But looking at this place, I'm not sure whether there's any civilisation."

And there was also an H… yes… S and H…

"A ghost town?" Shoko wondered out loud, lighting another cigarette. "That sounds fun."

Utahime, wrapped around her arm, trembling and shivering either from the cold or from fear, furrowed her brow. "Don't say that! This place is terrifying. I would much rather go back to the gas station."

S… hmm… S-s-s-s…

A light pinch to your arm brought you back from your thoughts, and you quickly looked at Shoko. She pushed Utahime towards Yuki, then slowed her pace and led you to the back.

"Are you okay? You're doing this again," she said, hooking her arm under yours.

Grey smoke mixed with the fog, its density only worsening. You didn't even notice she was observing your crazy, private murmurs to yourself all this time, and so a warmth kissed your neck.

"Just tired," you lied, sending her a weak smile. "It's just that…" I feel like I know this place. "I didn't get much sleep. I'm fine."

She pouted, taking another long drag. Her cheeks flushed sweetly beneath the chilly pinching, arms brushed yours. Lying to her felt horrible, nipping little needled into your aching chest.

Yet explaining the sudden fog that filled your mind seemed too difficult. First of all, it was something you wished to unravel yourself – this eerie sensation that tried to guide you towards a memory that warmed your heart with a pleasant flame.

Similar to the one you felt during the dream – hot and tender, with the name of the man who traced the loving kisses down your weeping spine.

The man who felt so familiar yet distant, plaguing your dreams for the past year. His face was never there, as if your mind had simply erased it.

"If you say so," Shoko sighed. "Oh, everyone. There's some board over there!"

All three lighters turned to a washed-green metal sign and… and your heart stopped.

"Silent Hill," Suguru read.

The air felt as if it had suddenly slipped into something heavier, colder, sending a wave of shivers through everyone's spines.

"Silent indeed," Satoru tried to relax the atmosphere, yet his pale cheeks turned cherry-red.

Silent Hill.

A soft, almost inaudible oh fell past your lips, yet everyone turned their heads to peek at your frozen, plagued-by-dread face.

With eyes bulging and lower lip trembling, you shifted your gaze from the old sign and looked farther towards the road. The fogged houses, abandoned and wrecked, looked so familiar. The mill, the church, the weeping willow hanging somewhere on the horizon. Long, slender branches weeping silently as the fog brushed them gently.

Something in your mind unlocked.

A memory of something, someone. And with it, the various sensations washed over you one by one. Dread of a sort, yet mixed with the passion that swelled your heart with the maddening, almost threatening temptation.

"What is it?" Shoko asked, squeezing your arm. "Do you know this place?"

A minute had passed before your short nod made everyone take a deep, whistling breath.

"It's my home," you mumbled, taking a step closer.

You walked slowly along the concrete road, with nothing but fog guiding you farther into the familiar, earthy smell swirling in the chilly air.

"Your home–"

Yuki started, but you quickly interrupted. "I was born here. I left this place five years ago, just before going for graduate school."

"Why?" Utahime tilted her head as everyone passed the old sign and followed you deep into the town.

You shrugged, passing the old university, now looking more deserted than ever. The old, creamy building was coated in dark smoke, as if someone had attempted to burn it.

Some memories, old and eerie, flashed through your mind, but you simply couldn't piece them together into a coherent picture. As if whatever happened here, in the town where you spent over twenty years of your life, was too scarring for your mind to remember.

As if the horrors you went through simply vanished from your memory, as if blotted out by the thick, unremovable marker.

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling the unpleasant sensation squeezing your heart.

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "My parents told me I had an accident just after finishing my bachelor's degree. I only remember my life after moving cities. Whatever happened here…" you sighed, seeing that the hospital, built of deep red brick, was also half-burnt. "I don't know. They never talked about it."

Suguru and Satoru looked into some old cars standing freely by the road, as if looking for any sign of life.

But it seemed that the city had been abandoned for a long, long time, leaving nothing but the mist and tattered buildings.

"I don't think we'll find anything useful here," Choso sighed, opening another car's door. "I just don't understand why everyone suddenly left. Some of those cars probably still work." He slipped inside and grabbed something. "You see? Someone's purse, with the ID and everything. Why would you leave it behind?"

It was quite clear that none of you wished to be here anymore. That the goosebumps rose on your skins and foggy breaths escaped with a shudder.

The air was slipping into something eerie, wicked – not quite cold, but tingling your spines with the sense that lingering here any longer would do you no good.

"We should go back…" Utahime whispered, cuddling into Shoko's arm. "I don't feel good here."

"Well, why won't we at least visit your old home? Maybe you'll find something to bring back your memories."

"And we also need a few more batteries," Suguru murmured, shaking his slowly fading flashlight. "Let's look around, okay? But please don't walk alone anywhere."

You didn't remember exactly where you lived. But it seemed that your feet did, as after a few minutes you all found yourselves standing beneath the crimson-brick gate of an old apartment complex. No more than five floors, with the weeping windows and wet ivy curling around the empty frames.

Another tingling ran down your spine, as if to let you know it was here. That was the place you called home five years ago. Before you woke up in another city, with hazy memories of a life so strange, your mind simply decided to leave it alone.

A small garden curled around the building. The withered trees hung over the grimy windows; ivy covered the full length of the black metal gate. You pushed it gently, sending a high-pitched creak through the air.

Leaves swirled in the thick mist, falling gently onto the grey earth as you took the first steps inside.

"I don't remember on which floor my apartment was," you murmured, opening the old, crimson door.

Leading you all right into the long building. The fog slipped around you, marking the old, dusty rugs covering the creaking wooden planks. The air inside smelled musty and damp, yet much warmer than the chill spiralling outside. As if the heating was still active, with warmth running through the pipes connecting the abandoned apartments.

Two pairs of stairs led towards different parts of the building, and so you all looked at each other with the what now painting your tensed faces.

"Okay, me, Satoru, Yuki and Choso will go and look for some batter," Suguru said. "You, Shoko and Utahime will try to find your apartment."

"That's not fair. Why is no man coming with us?" Utahime snorted, wrapping her jumper more tightly around her goosebumped shoulders.

Satoru chuckled and slipped, "Because you have Shoko," before a low ouch followed after the brunette hit the back of his head.

"Anyways," Suguru sighed, pulling Satoru to his side. Like a naughty child who always needed a trusted adult around. "Let's meet here in thirty minutes. And please, don't leave this building no matter what. If you get lost in this fog, then it's over."

With brief nods, all of you went your way. You, Shoko and Utahime, climbed the left side, as something deep in your gut, a sense of sorts, led you towards it.

And the truth was that – you didn't know what to expect.

Your memories were slowly returning. Of Brookhaven Hospital, of Rosewater Park just passed, of Heaven's Night Club, which seemed to whisper tricksters' hints, as if wishing you to remember all the evenings you spent there. Drunk and giggly, always hanging on someone's shoulder, never on the one who haunted your dreams.

And the man, whoever he was, seemed to be a piece of the larger puzzle.

His low voice still swirling at the back of your mind. Heavy body pressing against yours, as you lay in the small, cosy room. With the sun or rain or fog slipping through the cracked window, as the seasons outside changed through all within one dream.

Sometimes, he kissed you during winter.

Another time, fucked amid the dark, rainy autumn.

When the feverish heat coated your bodies with the sheen of sweat, he promised his life to you over the deep, summer night. With the grasshoppers peeking through the thin blinds, and your mind registering nothing but the pleasure he bestowed upon your slumbered body.

And the farther you walked into the building, the more you seemed to recognise.

Because the room from your dreams must've been here.

You walked up the second floor, taking careful, quiet steps and checking every apartment with a flashlight, each and every corner.

Sometimes, a mouse crossed your path. A cockroach warmed itself next to the heating radiator, while the yellow lights flickered over the long corridors. There were at least ten apartments per floor – each one you quickly checked, holding your breath as you walked in first.

Because after a while, being here felt almost natural. As if your body consciously remembered your way around. Fingers brushing the familiar handrails, flicking the creamy light buttons, walking the old, wooden stairs that creaked under your feet.

"It looks more like a hotel," Utahime murmured, checking herself in the hallway's dirty mirror.

"Because it was," you confirmed, walking up to the second floor. "But it was too expensive, and developers changed it into an apartment complex."

Shoko hummed, opening the first door of the second floor with a gentle push. "That would explain why it's so easy to get lost in here. And also, why some flats are so tiny."

You checked the second floor, then the third, and only when you went onto the fourth did your breath hitch.

Because at the very end of the corridor, a door was ajar.

With the warm, steady light spilling from the small crack.

The three of you looked at each other, each more scared than the other.

"Don't tell me…" Utahime started, her voice trembling as if she had walked a mile in the snowstorm.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. "I think that's my apartment."

So you walked closer and closer and closer, each step careful and soft, as if you were afraid of awakening whatever resided inside the still-warmed flat.

And when you pushed the wooden door, nothing but a normal, cosy apartment spread before your eyes.

Opening right into the living room, with the sofa still intact and the crimson rugs hugging the clean floor. The kitchen, whose shelves seemed fine and almost full, with a soft buzz from the fridge filling the small space.

The little, round table stood in the middle, with a withered rose hanging low over the burnt candle.

You stepped inside, your eyes sweeping the place as if looking for the hint of life you had left there.

As if trying to see your past self spread on the green sofa. Or looking out at the garden from the balcony, with a cup of tea in your hand.

Maybe dreaming on the soft bed, filling the tiny bedroom fully. Till nothing but a single bedside table slipped neatly between the frame and the wall.

Your fingers brushed the slightly dusty dresser, and you noticed a few dusty pictures.

All of them showing you.

And a–

"Oh, was that your boyfriend?" Utahime gasped, grabbing one of them. "Oh gosh, so handsome!"

And handsome he was.

Much taller than you, with muscles bulging beneath the leather jacket and white T-shirt showing through his broad chest.

Short, raven hair brushed his forehead gently, ending just above the bottle-green eyes. Deep and lowered, looking right at your smiley figure, cuddled to his side.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and only then did you spot a nasty scar running across them.

He was… someone.

Someone dear, someone close, yet someone you should stay away from. The sheer sight of him made your heart swell with both inexplicable fondness and fear.

"I don't know," you muttered, brushing his face with your thumb.

Shoko was going through the search on her own, and when her frightened, trembling voice filled the silent apartment, both you and Utahime quickly made your way to her.

She sat at the kitchen table, with a few old newspapers lying on the wooden surface and her trembling fingers turning through them one by one.

A gentle, yellow light hung over her head, casting a soft glow on her bulging, chestnut eyes and fallen lips.

"I don't know who you were just talking about," she took a deep breath before turning one of the newspapers your way. "But if that's him, then your parents had a good reason to leave this town."

Your eyes traced a row of neatly printed letters. Turning into words of some sort, but the longer you read them, the less sense they made. They puzzled over a piece of something peculiar, almost eerie, that gave you a painful, pulsing headache.

Utahime gasped, covering her mouth with a hand.

Shoko sat frozen, following the changing expressions on your face, as you dropped onto another chair.

She said your name. Whispered, while Utahime placed a hand on your shoulder.

You didn't understand why.

Because the words on the paper, linking into a Five male students and one female bartender killed out of jealousy! still sounded incoherent.

And when your eyes moved onto another newspaper, the world started to swirl.

The jealous boyfriend strikes again – another three lives to mourn.

Kidnapping of the female student – the girl found after a week!

And when your eyes dropped onto the newspaper from five years ago, just a few weeks after you left – your breath hitched.

Murderer on the loose! The man who took the lives of eight male students and kidnapped his girlfriend escapes from jail.

And in each one of the articles, there was the same face.

The one who looked at you with unconditional love, as you nuzzled your cheek into his leather jacket and let the heavy arm wrap around your shoulder.

"Toji Fushiguro," Utahime read before giving you a quick look. "And the girl who was kidnapped…"

You nodded, still staring blankly at the piece of paper. "Yeah. That was me."

And yet you had no memories of the supposed days spent under lock and key.

No, but rather of something warm and fuzzy tickling your skin. Of the warm kisses peppering your neck, thighs, and breasts, as the same man hung over you, wrapping you in a protective embrace.

You couldn't tell, however, whether those were memories of sorts, or rather yet another dream that haunted your mind every single night.

A dream of you loving someone, and him loving you – in an utterly twisted, possessive yet true manner.

"Toji Fushiguro," the name spilt sweetly on your tongue, like a honeyed glaze that stuck to the inside of your cheeks.

Sounding familiar and almost lovable, ripping another large, foggy flake from your memory. And as it fell somewhere into the depths of your mind, the man's face, always hiding behind your arched back, suddenly became clear. The name you whispered in your dreams over and over again, stuck heavy to your throat.

Toji Fushiguro.

A man, a lover, a nightmare.

You bit the inside of your cheek, brushing with a thumb his printed face. Handsome, yet scarred with an intimidating look. Completely different from the voice that guided you sweetly in your dreams.

Before you could open your mouth, a loud, weeping scream filled the whole building, as if it were coming from the deepest, ripest parts of someone's lungs, sending a surge of shivers down your spine.

Shoko immediately stood up and walked towards the ajar door. She peeked through the little crack, as if waiting for another scream to bounce off the dark hallway's walls.

And when it came with the same intensity, you and Utahime joined her.

"It sounded like Yuki," Shoko whispered, lighting the old carpet with a trembling flashlight.

A shuddered breath escaped her throat as she tried to keep the hand steady. But it seemed impossible, with the metallic stench slowly rising above the floors and floating right your way.

"Should we check it?" Utahime asked, trying to hide herself behind the doorframe. "Let's find the rest and just get the hell out of this place. I'm going to start crying any second now.

And she was right, as her lip trembled in fear and fingers clenched Shoko's arm in a deadly grip.

You curled your hands into a fist and took a flashlight from Shoko's hands. "Follow me. There's a hallway linking both sides, we can join them through it."

In a slow, single file, you slipped out of the room, with Shoko gripping your arm and Utahime's muffled cries filling the silent corridor. Each of your steps left a creak as the carpet-clad floors wept under your trembling bodies.

The hallway felt never-ending, leading you through the darkness and ajar rooms – always empty and cold, very different from your still cosy apartment.

Something moved at the end of the corridor. Another weep pinched your spines, and this time, it wasn't Utahime.

All three of you froze in place when a few muffled voices came from a place nearby. Unpleasant whispers, dull sobs, sounding slightly familiar.

"Yuki?" You whispered, waiting a few seconds before calling, "Suguru?"

You took another step, although your two trembling friends made it almost impossible. Utahime didn't try to hide her tears anymore, weeping right into Shoko's hoodie. She, on the other hand, bit her lower lip hard, till a few droplets of crimson blood bubbled on her dry skin.

"Choso?" You whispered again, awaiting any sign that the voices you've just heard were not, in fact, your imagination.

Or something worse – unknown, eerie, befitting the mystery that hugged this town with the innocent, soft fog.

You took a few steps before something grabbed your arm and pulled all three of you into one of the rooms.

"What the–"

But before you could finish, someone's trembling hand covered your lips.

You would recognise that light hair everywhere. With chestnut eyes dancing madly and milky skin dirtied with some sticky liquid.

"S-shh-hh," Yuki whispered, pressing a crimson finger to her lips. "Don't s-say anything, f-fuck…" She quickly looked out the room before closing the door.

Someone gasped, and only then did you notice Choso sitting right next to her. Curled against the wall, with his head between his shoulders and muffled, low cries slipping past his trembling lips.

"Choso…" Shoko inhaled with a hiss before her trembling hand touched his shoulder. "Choso are you okay?"

When he looked up, all three of you froze.

With mouth agape and eyes wide as porcelain plates, he traced the crimson stench trickling down his cut eyebrow. His white shirt turned vermilion, and his lip trembled as he looked at your untouched state.

"So you didn't meet him, huh?" He whispered, grabbing Shoko's wrist. "The m-monster, you didn't see h-him?"

Utahime was already on the verge of tears, so she curled up in the room's dusty corner, her thighs drawn to her chest. Shoko ripped a piece of her T-shirt and pressed it to Choso's bleeding forehead.

"What monster? Where's Satoru and Suguru?" Shoko asked, trying to keep a cool, steady tone.

But you could see the sweat trickling down her creamy neck. Eyes darted between Yuki and Choso, one looking worse than the other.

A loud sob slipped past Yuki's lips before she quickly muffled it with her hand. Choso groaned, banging his head against the wall, trying to hold back the tears that were scratching his eyelids.

"They're gone," he said so quietly, you needed to take a second look at his face.

Shoko placed hands on his cheeks, keeping his head steady. "What do you mean gone?"

He didn't need to say anything, for the deep, miserable sigh that escaped his throat and Yuki's storming sobs were enough.

"They were in another room, looking for those f-fucking batteries, a-and…" Another muffled cry filled the chilly room.

"He got them," Choso finished.

"He?" You asked, curling fingers on your hoodie. "Who's he?"

"I don't know. He's massive, like a fucking monster. Wears a helmet of sorts, but it looks triangular. And carries this, I don't know, long, heavy knife," Choso buried hands in his hair, tugging on them with a painful breath. "He cut them as if they were a fucking slice of meat. Fuck, we barely managed to run away, but he's still somewhere here."

And before you could ask anything else, a loud bang sliced through the long corridor. Something heavy hit the old pipes, and the dull clatter rose into the stale air. Hit after hit, growing steadily closer, as whatever was causing it turned your way.

Yuki and Choso looked at each other with bulging eyes before flying towards the door. Through the small crack, they peeked their heads out for a second before closing it with a thud.

"Everyone hide," Choso ordered, frantically scanning the small room. "His sight isn't the best, but he has a real-fucking-good sense of smell. Hide somewhere here."

Shoko pulled the trembling Utahime from the corner, then moved them both behind the long, dirty curtains.

The deep night had fallen over the abandoned town, bathing the tiny room in darkness as deep as the midnight sky. The fog rose in thick layers, slipping through the cracks in the window sills. The rain lay a thin layer over the tall windows, painting them with cries and weepings, as if wishing to muffle your heavy breaths filling the lonely apartment.

The noise was growing louder as all of you hid in the darkest corners of the room – behind the curtains, deep inside the closet, and under the lone, thin bed.

Yuki and Choso curled together beneath it, while you breathed in the old, musty air of the dresses waiting patiently in the closet. Sweat trickled down your neck, lungs squeezed, head pulsed.

Not in pain, but rather a strange feeling that pinched your heart in such an unsettling manner.

Heavy footsteps echoed through the corridor as someone began kicking in the doors to the apartments one by one. Looking inside for a few minutes before moving to the next, and next, with the dull, metallic noise cutting the vermilion carpet.

A low groan accompanied each step, as if the monster mumbled something under his nose.

A word… a name.

Sounding familiar yet so strange, only when he stood under your door did you recognise that it was indeed a name of yours.

A faint oh god, fell past Utahime's lips before Shoko quickly pressed her hand to shut her up.

Because the moment your room opened – everyone held their breath.

You peered through the little crack in the closet and pressed a hand to your lips. A shaky, teary gasp filled your tiny space as you saw a monster walking inside the room.

At least two metres tall, with shoulders barely fitting through the door frame and a single dirty cloth wrapped around his hips. A large, triangular helmet covered his panting face, while a vein-bulging hand dragged a long knife. Heavy, covered in vermilion liquid dripping onto the floor.

The stench of blood swirled in the air, mingling with a heavy, musky fragrance that tickled your nose. His footsteps shook the floor; beefy arms squeezed through the entrance as he stood in the middle of the room, looking around it at a slow, unhurried pace.

Your name once again fell off his lips, followed by a muffled baby baby baby, stuck in his mind like a mantra. A low, groany voice deepened the density of the aura he spread around himself.

And then… the massive, crimson helmet turned your way.

He took a deep breath, as if following the smell that slipped past the closet's cracked door.

He has some real-fucking-good sense of smell, you remembered Choso's words and gasped.

His steps were slow, rather crooked, as the long blade bent his back in an utterly strange way. The muscular, wide chest was covered in a thin layer of sweat, yet the fragrance smelled rather pleasant.

Familiar.

"Baby," his muffled groan slipped from beneath the helmet.

You knew this voice – low, raspy, lined with the tenderness that contradicted the pulsing dreadfulness it drew beneath your chest.

The same softness that haunted your dreams.

Your hand pressed against the door, eyes following his body as it came closer. And closer, and closer, until the musky smell hit your nostrils much harder as he grabbed the old closet door.

He didn't just open them, but tore them from the hinges with a single pull. Till nothing but a few pieces of wood hung loosely, exposing your small figure curled between the flowery dresses.

"T-To–"

But before you could finish, his fingers curled around your neck.

Pulling you closer, until you needed to stand on your toes to match his eye level. Although it was difficult to tell where his eyes were, as he hauled you right in front of his triangular helmet.

You've never felt such strength. Deathly, monstrous, overpowering you in every sense, with fat fingers gripping your throat.

"T-Toji…" you coughed again, dragging your nails over his beefy forearm. "Toji i-it's me."

His head tilted, as if trying to register your words.

You wriggled beneath his grip, twisted and squirmed, feeling pulsing blood slowly hitting your head.

A moment passed before he set you free, letting you fall back into the closet. But not for long, as a second later his arms curled around your waist and the world suddenly turned upside down.

You were hanging off his shoulder, with head dangling high in the air till you could see nothing but his blade dragged dully across the carpet.

You've noticed Shoko's bulging eyes mingling beneath the crisp moonlight. Yuki's arm trying to wriggle itself free from beneath the bed, until Choso quickly pulled her back in.

Everyone heard the monster whisper your name.

So everyone was ready to leave you be and save their own life.

And for that matter, you didn't mind it. As the long-gone feelings that had stayed locked deep within the confines of your heart suddenly spilt through the tiny cracks.

Your body hung swaying as the monster walked along the corridor. Towards the only apartment that was still brimming with life, as if cared for and tended to for years, waiting for your comeback.

When he passed the entrance and closed the door with a thud, you waited for your feet to touch the floor.

But instead, he dragged you to the bedroom, throwing you onto the soft bed. Your back bounced off the mattress as you tried to squirm into the farthest corner of the room.

He didn't let you go, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back in. Until you gasped, feeling his massive hands hook under your thighs, only to fold you in half.

"Take it off," he mumbled, dragging the end of his metal helmet along your trembling chin. "Take it off, baby."

You bit the inside of your cheek, grabbing the heavy, triangular helmet with both hands. The bloody stench dropped down the floor together with a loud clacker, filling the rain-peppered bedroom.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as the fog covering the face that appeared in your dreams every single night finally melted away your sealed memories.

The face of the only man you have ever loved loomed over your head.

With emerald eyes tracing the softness of your skin, gleaming in the chilly moonlight filtering through the blinds.

You trembled when he lifted his fingers to brush your cheek.

"My baby," he whispered, a low groan hitting you with a blooming warmth. His massive body fully blocked the only moonlight spilling in, bathing you in heat radiating from his chest. "It's been so long since I've lost you."

You didn't know what to do with your hands, but as he nuzzled his face against your breasts, you wrapped them around his neck. Tugging gently at raven hair, damp against his skin.

"Tell me you missed me," his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, as he pressed them against your chest. "Baby, tell me you thought of me this whole time."

But answering him was much more difficult than you expected, with fear and dizziness knotting deep in your neck. Only a soft pant slipped past your lips as he kissed your neck gently, licking the sweaty skin with a groan.

"W-why did you kill them?" you finally asked. "My friends…"

He knew who you were talking about, and chuckled, pulling away slightly, just to get a better view of your lovely face, with softly pouted lips and big eyes, looking up at his massive frame in panic.

"Because they wanted to take you away from me," He grinned. "Why the sad face, baby? Were they someone special for you?"

You bit lower lip, but he quickly pulled it down from between your teeth. "Answer me, baby. Were they someone special?"

"Y-ye–"

But Toji tilted his head, quickly cutting you off. "I would think twice before answering, baby."

You felt his fingers playing with the hem of your trousers. Fat digits, slowly, slowly slipping them off your hips. He used one hand to straighten your knees and roll the tracksuit swiftly, while keeping the other on your belly. Heavy and strong, pressing you into the mattress with a force you had no chance against.

The fear froze you in place as his fingers slipped beneath the hoodie.

"You don't want to make me angry, baby. Remember, some of your friends are still here," he muttered, warm breath tickling your earlobe. "Were the men I killed anyone special to you?"

"N-no," you sighed when one of his fat fingers brushed the hem of your bra. "No t-they weren't."

You wriggled beneath his massive body as he folded it in half again. He lifted your hips off the mattress and pressed himself against you with his full, crushing weight. A soft moan slipped past your lips as he tore your bra with a single pull.

Toji hummed, pressing a soft kiss to your chin. "You should be happy I didn't kill your parents, baby," Teeth bit the soft spot just beneath it, forcing you to tilt your head back. "That I was still in jail when they took my girl away from me."

Fear, panic and anxiety mixed with the waves of pleasure he sent through your body. With fingers pinching the perked, naked nipples, and teeth grazing the soft skin of your neck.

You voluntarily lifted your hands, allowing him to pull off your hoodie in one swift motion. Leaving you bare and sweating – splayed beneath his massive body, with nothing but a bloodstained leather tunic wrapped around his hips.

The panic echoed through your mind, but the body acted as if it longed for the touch that used to make your head spin from pleasure. Willingly working with his fingers, melting softly beneath the tender touch and kisses, his soft lips peppered you with.

"Those men…" You mumbled, recalling his face plastered to all the major news from five years ago. "The kidnapping. I don't remember anything."

Toji pulled away, his squinted eyes observing your face closely. As if looking for any signs of deceitfulness.

"What do you mean?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, when he leaned over your chest, wrapping lips around one of the perked nipples. Sucking it gently, with a tongue swirling the sensitive bud and giving it a soft bite.

"M-my memory, mhm," your eyes fluttered, feeling his hips press against your soaked panties. "T-tell me, what happened here?"

The stench of vermilion blood still covered his skin, painting it in dripping red strokes. The blood of your dearest friends, most surely.

He ripped your drenched panties off, using the flimsy material to wipe himself clean. Letting your lingerie soak the remains of the people you spent your past few years with.

You didn't dare to move. Didn't dare to fight.

Just allowed yourself to melt under his fingers slipping down your belly, towards the clenching, fluttering cunt that drenched your inner thighs with the nasty, sticky juices.

It felt utterly inappropriate. To feel the lustful flame biting your flesh while spreading yourself beneath the man who had killed your friends just a few minutes earlier.

The roll of your hips in desperate waves, tugging harshly at his raven hair sticking to his neck.

But he was the man you, supposedly, loved dearly those years ago, and it was no surprise that your body, heart, and soul pulled you towards him in weeping despair.

"That female bartender," you gasped, as his finger brushed your trembling clit. "T-toji, wait, please tell me–"

"Shhh," he licked the long stripe between your breasts, across your chest, up your neck, until his lips met yours in a messy, metallic kiss. "My pretty girl. You truly don't remember, hm?"

Your head shook, and lungs desperately gasped for air, as he put his massive weight on your body. Till the mattress dipped beneath your back and a few bedsprings pinched your spine.

"You killed her," he whispered, tugging slightly to keep an eye on the surprise twisting your face. "That's right, baby. You killed her because she flirted with me in the club's bathroom. And I only took the blame for you. After all, I never denied killing those eight fuckers, and another victim didn't make much difference."

Another big slab of memory slipped back into your mind.

From years ago, with a girl, tracing kisses up Toji's neck, as he tried to push her away. Her fingers on his bulging jeans, hand wrapping around the biceps.

You, waiting for her at the club's back door, till she walked out alone and had the misfortune of meeting you.

Her head smashed with a heavy stone, as you huffed and puffed over her body, a rage still bubbling in your veins.

And then Toji appeared – always lurking somewhere around, never out of your sight – hugging you from behind. "She made my baby angry, hm?"

You pouted, turning in his embrace. Eyes looking up to meet his, drenched fingers brushing his cheeks. "I didn't like the way she touched you."

He giggled, nuzzling into your soft palm. He kissed it tenderly, allowing a stench of blood to coat his gentle lips. "That's okay, baby. No one can ever take you away from me. I'm forever yours."

The memory slipped into your mind suddenly, almost like an intrusion, sparking a surge of panic and anxiety that filled your heart with a painful throb.

You killed someone.

You killed a woman, only because of your foolish jealousy.

And the man hanging over you took the blame because there was nothing, ever, he wouldn't do for his precious girl.

"I missed you so fucking much," he connected your maws again, pulling your lower lip with a soft groan. His finger scooped the honeyed juice sticking to your clenching folds, as another filthy moan hit your cheeks. "I bet you taste delicious, hm?"

A shuddering cry fell past your lips, as you felt his fat finger trying to squeeze itself through your tight, wet hole. Sticky juices coated his skin like a spiderweb, yet your clenching muscles were too shut to let his finger in.

"Baby, you need to relax," he chuckled, peppering kisses down your chin.

Through neck, breasts, staying a bit longer to suck on your perked nipples, before biting a small roll of your belly and finally kneeling in front of your spread legs.

"I won't be able to fuck you if you won't open up," emerald eyes followed your tightly shut cunt, before moving up to glance at the warmth hitting your embarrassed cheeks. "It's been so long, hm?" his warm breath smooched your trembling clit. "No one has touched you for the past five years, right, baby?"

Your head nodded in panic as a sly smile tugged at Toji's lips. "N-no one, I-I thought I was a virgin…"

And because the past few years of your life had been nothing but a misty memory, you frankly thought of yourself as fully inexperienced in sexual pleasures. With only lustful dreams plaguing your nights, of a man who currently looked up at you from between your spread legs.

"Truly, baby?" he sniffed your leaking cunt, shifting the air with a loud groan. "Because when I kidnapped you, we did nothing but fucked for a whole week," his fat finger once again tried to push through your walls, only to send a crying moan from your throat. "I filled you with so much cum, we were sure you would walk out pregnant," scarred lips finally pressed to your clit, swirling the trembling button with a drenched tongue. "My sweet baby, you were always crying so prettily on my cock. Come on, open yourself for me."

He sucked, licked, and kissed your puffy clit, with soaked fingers slowly stretching your sealed walls. The muscles wrapped around his digit in an almost painful manner, and he hissed, feeling how tight you truly were.

Your back arched from a pleasure washing over your spine, as he swirled his tongue all over your weeping cunt. Sucking gently on a clit, biting the swollen lips, drinking the spilling juices like a madman, till the sweetness of your pussy marked his whole face. Cheeks and chin, both smeared in the sticky cum, as emerald eyes rolled back at the creaminess spilling over his taste buds.

"I missed you so much, my love, my baby," Toji moaned, pulling you closer to his face. One meaty palm fell over your belly, while two fingers of another tried to slip inside your clenching pussy. "You have no fucking idea how angry I was when they took you. Fuck," another groan of his pinched your spine with a trembling pleasure, as your back arched. "I killed them all."

You glanced down at his wet forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to creamy skin. "Who?"

He groaned when you tugged on his hair. "Everyone. I killed everyone for taking you away from me. For locking me up and letting your parents take you, God knows where."

The abandoned hospital, burnt university, destroyed ranches – he killed them all.

And as much as you wished to feel some sympathy, all the lost memories were slowly flooding your mind.

The days spent in Toji's pleasure, with his maniacal, possessive love, were flooding your mind again. His jealousy and territorial control led to so many unnecessary deaths.

Some of them caused by your hands.

"Good," you suddenly whispered, feeling an overwhelming, blinding pleasure bubbling in your loins. "Mhm, Toji–ah–that's o-okay."

His fat fingers barely slipped inside your cunt, lips worked on your swollen clit with a groan sending tremblings through your sensitive bud. He kissed and licked and sucked your pussy with an almost devoted passion, massive hand pressing your lower belly to the mattress.

You spread your legs farther, allowing his wide shoulders to paint red the insides of your thighs.

"Yeah?" he muttered, slowly looking up. "Are you happy, baby? I punished them all. Just for you."

When his fingers slipped deeper, your head fell back, and a bubbly moan escaped your tightened throat. "F-fuck, am so happy–ahhh."

Your hips rolled against his plastered tongue, chasing the pleasure slowly splashing in your lower belly.

But you didn't want to cum like that. Not on his tongue, when you've already noticed the meaty cock stretching his leather tunic.

And so you placed a foot on his forehead, pushing his starving mouth away. Your sticky juices dripped from his chin, hearts dancing in the emerald eyes, plagued only by the longing and desperation to eat his pretty girl alive.

"Don't test me, baby," he muttered, kissing the sole of your foot. "I've been waiting for you five years. Do you know what it does to a man?"

But you could only smile – slyly, cheekily, as if the girl from five years ago were slowly slipping back into your body – and roll onto your belly. Just to lift your hips and spread your cheeks with one hand.

The droplets of cum oozed from your tight cunt, landing softly on the drenched mattress. The sudden surge of boldness smooched your neck with warm kisses, leaving you bare and trembling right in front of your lover's eyes.

"I don't wish to test you," you muttered, still a bit shyly, avoiding his heavy gaze. "Just please, fuck me already. I want to cum on your cock."

He hummed and stood up. His head almost brushed the ceiling, and his massive body cast a large shadow over your trembling figure. He ripped the leather tunic off his hips with one pull, leaving you completely breathless.

The sudden confidence… suddenly disappeared.

And instead, panic rose in your chest as you saw the hanging monstrosity he had been hiding all this time.

Too heavy to stick to his abdomen, yet stony hard and oozing with musty precum. The bluish veins curled around his fat, pulsing shaft, and the reddened head was ready to burst any second.

Before you could change a position, suddenly feeling that this one felt too intimidating and deep, his hands grabbed your hips and pressed them to his hanging length.

"What happened, baby? You were so confident just a mere seconds ago," Toji chuckled, feeling the heat of your cunt against his cock. "I wanted to stretch you a bit longer, but if you're sure that it's not needed…"

He grabbed pulsing head, drenching it in your juices. It already felt heavy, monstrous, as he smooched your tight entrance with the biting heat that spread all over your swollen pussy.

"N-no, wait–" you tried to push him away, but he quickly pressed you to the mattress with one hand.

A massive palm landed on your back, locking you in one position – with hips high up and nipples brushing the bedding. You begged and wriggled, feeling his massive body tremble with laughter.

"Shhh," he bent over, kissing your spine. "Take a deep breath, baby. You brought it upon yourself."

His massive cock poked on your entrance. Pulsing head squeezing through the tight rim of your muscles, getting itself drenched in your honeyed juices. Your walls squeezed his shaft with a painful pleasure, letting a low groan slip past his lips.

"Toji, you're too big–mmm," a muffled cry hit the pillow, as his hand still kept you pressed to the mattress. "I can't–"

"No, baby," he chuckled, yet a few droplets of sweat bubbled on his forehead. "You can. And you will. I haven't cummed in five fucking years. Do you know how much I've been holding up for you, hm? I hope you came hungry, because today I'll be stuffing you full."

The grip of your cunt was simply maddening, almost tormenting, and if he didn't bite down his lower lips, he would already tear your sweet cunt with a lone thrust. But instead, he slowly pushed in, taking a deep breath as his head fully slipped in.

Thick shaft swabbing your insides, his hand sliding down to feel himself through your belly. Palm pressing the shivering muscles, as he pushed, and pushed, forcing inch by inch into your weeping cunt.

Completely deaf to your sobbing when you tried to pull yourself off his massive cock.

"Toji, please, fuck, that's–ahhh," you attempted to turn your head back, but his hand between your shoulder blades was keeping you in place.

"Just a minute, baby," he hummed, feeling his cock, slide through the tightness of your cunt. Your belly bulged with his thickness, sending another ruffling chuckle through his chest, and a crying moan out of your lips. "I'm almost here. Arch yourself a bit more, hm? Let me hit that sweet spot of yours."

You did as he ordered, hugging the pillow he pressed your face to.

"That's right, my good girl." His fingers opened your pussylips to see the nasty mess coating his length. "Don't tell me you hate it, baby. Your pussy is sucking me in. And I know that if I do this," he suddenly, without a warning, pushed his full length in, drawing a weeping scream from your throat. "You will immediately cum."

And he was right, because the moment his fat, bursting head hit your womb, and fingers pinched your clit – you cummed all over the mattress. Drenching it in crystalline juices, as a wave of pleasure washed over your quivering spine.

He didn't stop. Didn't wait for you to calm down after the first orgasm.

Instead, his thrusts became brutal, almost inhumane, as he pounced on you like a savage monster. With one hand still rolling your clit, he leaned over to lick a filthy strip of your sweat-coated skin. Teeth biting deep into your shoulder, as you cried pitifully, feeling his cock rearrange your insides.

"What's wrong, baby?" He chuckled, noticing a warmth creeping up your neck. "You still want me to pull out?"

Your head shook, teary eyes glancing back at his handsome face. "You're so mean."

Yet your hips started to willingly hit against his, chasing the hefty smooches of his leaking head that swelled your womb. The fat shaft filled you with maddening fullness, hitting all sensitive bumps inside your pussy. Soft walls clamped down on his cock, as if desperately trying to keep it in place.

But Toji's hips were stronger, faster, as he pulled his cock out, till nothing but his tip was still getting sucked by your sweet cunt, only to slam it back and force a moany cry out of your lips.

"Yeah baby, I'm so fucking mean," the sweat glazed his forehead, a few droplets trickling down his massive back. "And I'll be so mean while stuffing your poor belly full. You're not leaving this room until I get you fucking, pregnant."

You moaned, rolling your hips to feel more of his monstrosity brush against your sweet spot. Eyes rolled back and mouth agape, a thread of crystal spit trickling down your chin.

Toji laughed, seeing your fucked-out face drooling into the pillow. "And you're going to thank me for it, right, baby?"

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently nodded your head. "Yeah, my sweet girl. You're not leaving my side ever again."

His hips hit you faster, more brutally, making your back twist into a painful arch and your feet curl, as another wave of pleasure already pinched your lower belly.

"Try to run away, and I'll promise you'll never see the sunlight again."

His cock pounded you madly, and you could swear that it somehow, suddenly, swelled. Becoming even thicker, fatter, till your poor womb cried from the brutal madness of his leaking head and fluttering walls tried to stretch under its sudden growth.

"Tell me how much you love me," he ordered, biting gently on your earlobe. "Come on, baby, tell me how much you missed me."

His massive body pressed you into the mattress; air barely slipped past your compressed lungs, yet a muffled, "I love you–ahhh–T-toji I love you s-so much," still forced its way out of your lips.

"I-m going to, mmm, Toji fuck–"

He chuckled, rolling your clit between his fingers. Cock ravishing your pussy brutally, another wave of cum already splashing in your lower belly, as he put all his massive weight onto your poor, trembling body.

The fat shaft sat heavily inside the sweet warmth of your cunt, nuzzling itself deep against the swollen womb.

And within another second – he finally came.

Or likely burst, painting your insides white, with thick, hefty spurts of sticky seed, filling the little belly pouch. Stuffing your womb full, just as he promised, till the cum started leaking past the veiny shaft swallowed fully by your weeping pussy.

Trembles after trembles flooded your spine, as he whispered sweet little nothing to your crying cheeks. Kissing away the salty droplets, before he rolled you over and folded you in half.

"Toji, it hurts," you mumbled, yet still softening from pleasure under his touch.

He didn't need another minute, not even a second, as his cock hardened a moment after seeing your puffy, lovely face.

"What hurts, baby?" He cooed, licking your soft cheeks. "Tell me, what's the matter?"

You pressed your hand to your lower belly, feeling the waves of his cum splashing inside your pulsing womb. "It's too much. Mhmmm, Toji, I can't do it again."

But he simply didn't give you any mind. Knowing how much pleasure you always took from being manhandled like a rag doll. Getting stuffed full, till the nausea hit your throat from the taste of his cum and cunt leaked for whole weeks.

And if you haven't remembered it yet, he simply needs to remind you.

So he did – over and over again. Until you truly became nothing but a doll, liquefying in his beefy arms and weeping sweetly as you rode his massive, gut-turning cock. And although your face was swollen from constant sobbing, your heart swelled with maddening, almost terrifying adoration.

Or a torment, maybe, towards a man whom you should rather hate than care for.

A monster, a nightmare, a beast.

Your most dearest lover.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Well, I hope you enjoyed it...

I'm sorry, I cannot find the artist of Toji's fanart! :( dividers by @pixopix and @diviniyae

[ { DISCLAIMER } ] ➤ Please do not come to me with comparisons of this story to any other out there. I usually don’t mind but there are specific books out there that this tale has been oddly compared to in the past &, it’s caused complications & unnecessary drama (plus more). As such, enjoy tfl for what it is, pls & ty.

❥ Chapters !

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15.

16.

17.

18.

19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

24.

25.

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

31.

32.

33.

34.

35.

36.

37.

38.

39.

40.

41.

42.

43.

44.

45.

46.

47.

48.

49.

50.

51.

52.

53.

54.

55.

56.

56.5.

Extras.

In case you’re confused, here’s a breakdown of this fic.

Hope you enjoy!

|| @kamiflix || ff status; complete ||

You've been in Bali for four days. You came here to stop thinking about depositions and the buzzing of your phone and the version of yourself that answers emails at midnight from a bathtub because it's the only place in the apartment that feels quiet. You came here to remember what your own thoughts sound like without a client's voice layered over them. You did not come here for a mystery.

You step over the flowers and go find coffee anyway.

The café is four minutes down the road, tucked between a surf shop and a shrine wrapped in checkered cloth, easy to miss if you weren't looking for it, which you weren't, the first time — you'd just followed the smell of something dark-roasted and slightly burnt in a way that felt more honest than the resort's pristine espresso machine. It's small. Six tables, most of them empty most of the day, a chalkboard menu that changes depending on what looks good that morning. The man who runs it has a low ponytail and forearms that look like they've done actual work, and he has never once rushed you, even when you've sat at his corner table for three hours straight, laptop closed, just sitting.

"Same as yesterday?" he asks, when you come in. His name, you learned on day two, is Suguru.

"Same as yesterday," you confirm, and take your usual seat.

He brings the coffee over himself, which you've noticed he doesn't do for everyone. Sets it down without ceremony. "You look like you slept."

"I did, actually."

"Miracle," he says, and there's something at the corner of his mouth that isn't quite a smile but wants to be one. "What'll it take to keep that up?"

"A returned deposit on my last two years, probably."

"I don't have that on the menu today. Coffee's the best I can do."

"It's a start."

He goes back behind the counter, and you watch him for a second longer than you mean to — the unhurried way he moves, like nothing here is worth rushing, like time in this town runs on a different current than the one you left behind. You think, not for the first time, that you could stand to learn something from a man who owns a café and seems to have made peace with slowness as a way of life.

You don't think about the flowers again until the next morning, when there's another cluster waiting outside your door.

By day six, it's become a small ritual you don't examine too closely. Wake up, find the flowers, leave them where they are because moving them feels like it might break whatever spell put them there, walk to the café, drink coffee across from a man whose voice has become the steadiest sound in your day. You've stopped checking your phone at breakfast. You've stopped mentally drafting emails while you eat. You've started, instead, noticing things — the particular blue the sky turns right before a storm rolls in off the water, the sound of a gecko clicking somewhere in the café's rafters, the way Suguru's hands look when he's grinding beans, sure and unbothered.

You tell him about the flowers on day six, mostly because you've run out of anything else to say and the silence between you has stopped needing to be filled with small talk.

"Every morning," you say, stirring sugar into coffee you don't actually need sugar in. "Right outside my door. No note, no nothing. It's very committed, whoever's doing it."

Something flickers across his face — there and gone, fast enough that you almost miss it. "Committed how?"

"Like, every single morning. Rain or shine. I checked yesterday during that storm and they were still there, a little waterlogged but present."

"Maybe you have a very devoted admirer."

"Maybe I have a very persistent cat that's confused about what to bring me."

He laughs — an actual laugh, low and surprised out of him, like you caught him off guard. "A cat that arranges petals in a spiral. Sure."

You go still. "I never said spiral."

The pause that follows is exactly one second too long.

"Lucky guess," he says, and turns to grind more beans, and you sit there with your coffee going lukewarm in your hands, doing quiet, lawyerly math on the shape of his shoulders and the exact timing of his silences.

You don't confront him. Not yet. Instead you set an alarm for four-thirty the next morning, which feels absurd — you are a grown woman who bills by the hour, sneaking around a rented villa to catch someone in the act of leaving her flowers, as though this were a stakeout and not the most romantic thing that's happened to you in longer than you'd like to admit.

At four-fifty, you hear footsteps on the gravel path outside.

You crack the door an inch. And there he is — Suguru, in the grey pre-dawn light, crouched by your doorstep with a small paper-wrapped bundle of frangipani, arranging them with more care than the task probably requires. He's not dressed for the café yet, still in a plain shirt with his hair loose around his shoulders, and something about seeing him like this, unguarded and quiet and clearly not expecting an audience, knocks something loose in your chest.

"You walk four minutes out of your way every morning," you say, "to leave flowers on a stranger's doorstep."

He doesn't jump, which annoys you a little — of course he doesn't, nothing seems to rattle this man — but he does go very still, and when he looks up at you there's something almost sheepish in it, which you didn't think his face was capable of.

"You're not a stranger," he says. "You've had the same table for a week and a half."

"That's not really an answer."

"No," he agrees. He stands, brushing dirt from his knees, unhurried even now, caught red-handed at five in the morning. "It's not."

You wait. You're good at waiting — it's half your job, letting silence do the work a question can't.

"You looked tired the first morning you came in," he says finally. "Not vacation-tired. Tired like you'd been carrying something a long time and didn't know how to put it down. I thought — " he stops, seems to reconsider, decides to say it plainly instead. "I thought you deserved to open your door to something nice before you had to think about anything else. That's all it was, at first."

"At first."

"At first," he repeats, and doesn't elaborate further, but he's looking at you in a way that makes the rest of the sentence unnecessary.

You should probably say something devastatingly clever here. Instead what comes out is: "You could've just told me it was you."

"Would you have let me keep doing it, if I had?"

You think about that honestly, standing barefoot on gravel with the sky just starting to go pink at the edges. "I don't know. Probably not. I'd have felt like I owed you something."

"You don't owe me anything for flowers picked from a tree in my own backyard." A pause. "Though I wouldn't say no to company. If you're awake anyway."

There's a plumeria tree, you learn, on a strip of land behind his family's house a short walk from here — that's where the flowers come from, cut fresh each morning before the heat can wilt them, chosen for no reason you can discern except that he apparently likes the ones with the reddest centers, thinks they suit you, though he won't say why when you ask. You end up sitting with him on the low stone wall at the edge of the property as the sky changes color, not saying much, which feels like it should be awkward and isn't. There's a kind of quiet that only works between two people who've already spent a week and a half doing nothing but existing near each other, and this is that kind.

"I have four days left," you say eventually, because someone has to say it, and it might as well be you.

"I know."

"That's not very much time."

"No," he agrees again, infuriatingly calm about it, "it isn't." He looks over at you, and there's something steady underneath the calm, something that looks like a decision already made. "Doesn't mean I'm going to stop bringing flowers."

"Even after I'm gone?"

"Especially then." He says it simply, like it costs him nothing to admit, though you suspect it costs him more than he's letting on. "Some habits are worth keeping even without an audience."

You don't have a clever response to that either. You just sit with it, watching the light change, aware in a way you haven't let yourself be aware of anything in over a year that some part of you is already dreading the flight home — not because you don't want to go back to your life, but because you're starting to understand that whatever this is, whatever's been growing quietly on your doorstep every morning in the shape of white petals, doesn't come with an easy ending. It's not the kind of thing you can bill hours to figure out. It's not the kind of thing you can solve at all.

"Four days," you say again, softer this time, less like an obstacle and more like a countdown you intend to actually use.

Suguru's hand finds yours on the stone wall between you, not asking permission, just there, warm and certain. "Then we'd better not waste them."