Your curtains shift, causing you to turn abruptly. Met with an empty room, you begin to back away, slightly jumping as your hips come in contact with your desk. The apartment was pitch black, save for the small glimpse of the outside streetlights, increasing the eeriness of the ancient’s visit. The continued silence makes your hair rise, and your eyes swirl with fear. 

After another minute passes, you leave your desk, pushing off quietly and carefully. Your footsteps are gentle and alert as they navigate the small apartment. He still hadn’t made himself known. Each and every new move exposed you, something you were painfully aware of. 

“Hello,” you call out weakly. “Mr. Armand?”

No response, yet his cologne was still very much present. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you call out again, still walking around the apartment. “I’m sure this has been a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?”

You jumped at the voice, backing away from its source quickly. His eyes were haunting in the darkness as he peered down at you in near disgust. The sight made you want to shrivel up and die on the spot. You never wanted him to look at you like that again. 

“Three of my coven members have gone missing in the last two weeks, and you think I am having a misunderstanding? Do you think me a fool?” 

“No, no,” you shake your head vigorously. “That isn’t what I meant.”

He quirks his eyebrows, daring you to change his view of things. 

“If you would allow me, I’d like to explain,” you say softly, eyes flitting from him to the floor and back to him. “Please.”

His breath is deep with annoyance, something you’re sure will go away once you explain the disappearances. You hated that you’ve brought him discomfort, that wasn’t your intention at all. 

“Please, come sit,” you smile, still cautious of every movement you make. 

He follows behind you gracefully, eyes never leaving your form. His clothes were the only sound he made, rustling with each step. You turn around and motion for him to sit at your small table. 

You flick the lights on and try to settle your nerves, your breath growing increasingly shaky. Whirls of excitement began to crackle through your veins, fear still ever present. 

“One moment,” you smile awkwardly before darting out of the room.

You quickly walked toward your room, not wanting to keep the man in your kitchen waiting. Bending down and looking under your bed, you began to scan for the box in the darkness. Your knees dug into the hardwood floor as you felt around for that small velvet box, grinning when you found it. You knew he would understand once he saw it; he had to! 

Quickly, with the box in hand, you returned to the small table with an eager, hopeful look on your face. You sat across from him, shyness once again blooming in your chest as you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eye. You simply pushed the velvet box over to him.

“I had wanted to wait until the work was complete, but nevertheless, I hope you’re happy with me,” you say, quietly. “I tried to do it in a way that would inconvenience you the least.” 

Armand reached out to take the box from the table, leaning back in his chair and looking at you with mild curiosity. What could you possibly mean? With one more glance at you, he opened the box. Inside were photographs taken of the missing coven members; chunks of their flesh were missing. No doubt you’re doing. Estelle, Eglee, and Sam truly were the least inconvenient. Not leads, Sam’s writing was subpar at best, easily replaceable if he wished to.  

He glanced back at you as he thumbed through the photographs, taking in your eager eyes and the lip between your teeth. Your breath had grown quiet, like you were holding it, yet your heart beat wildly in your chest, signaling anticipation. All signs of someone waiting for affirmation or degrading. Once your eyes caught his, yours flicked down in embarrassment. He did find it endearing if not curious. 

Quietly, he placed the photos back into the box. Reaching into the pocket of his trench coat, he took out a pack of cigarettes before taking off his coat and letting it fall onto the back of the chair. The sounds of rustling drew you to look back up from your fisted dress, watching in small clips as he placed one in between his lips and lit it, a puff of smoke floating into the empty space. His eyes found you once more, and this time stayed on you as he inhaled the dryness and breathed out as he sat back. Your shoulders all scrunched up and tense. 

“Explain,” he demanded. “Now.”

“I-”

“And look at me while you do.”

Your shoulders, if possible, tensed even more at his command. He watched the internal struggle that was taking place, watched as the eyes hidden by your eyelashes danced around in search of an anchor. He quite enjoyed the squirming if he was being honest with himself, enjoyed the ticks of panic that were on display. 

With great effort, you finally allowed yourself to flutter your eyes to the vampire sitting in front of you, his indifferent form coming into frame. His legs were now crossed as he sat back with the cigarette in between his fingers, the smoke from his pulls continued to swirl in the air, sometimes hitting the light before disappearing once again. 

“I am nothing if not grateful for your kindness, for allowing me to feed in your territory. Most creatures would have killed me for even setting foot in their city, yet you did not; you welcomed me.”

Armand’s silence prompted you to continue. 

“I don’t know why,” you continued. “I’ve never been able to hear the thoughts of others before, then again; I’ve never met vampires before. In short, I could hear the thoughts of the coven…including yours.”

A tick in his jaw was the only reaction you got from that revelation, but it was still enough to put you on edge. Your eyes flutter down for a moment before returning to the ancient, not wanting to disobey him.

“I watch you,” the confession seemed to linger between you, fragile and irretrievable. “I would always sit in the balcony across from you, even before I started feeding, so I could watch you. And I learned you. Your mannerisms, when you were pleased, or when someone missed their cue by a hair, all of it. So, even before your thoughts came to me, I knew.” 

“I know,” you say, still choosing your words very carefully. “I know that you’ve been growing tired of your coven, after all these years, you're finally growing tired of the repetitiveness. The way your jaw tightens the entire night during a show instead of during specific parts, the way you watched them with such disinterest. Even the way you hunt with them, you don’t participate at all.”

What you were saying had finally begun to settle in Armand’s mind. His lips parted, just slightly, in shock. The thought of being watched so intensely rattled against his head in a way that surprised him, and he liked it. 

“You didn’t miss them.”

“What makes you say that,” Armand asks, shockingly gentle. 

“You didn’t come to find me until Santiago brought it up,” you responded. “I must apologize, I would have started with Santiago, but it would have been too obvious. But he does cause you the most grief.”

Armand was overwhelmed, his cigarette still sitting in between his fingers, burning away needlessly. His golden eyes searched yours for the hint of a lie. You knew he wouldn’t find one. He watched you, just as you watched him. He watched where you looked, he watched the anxious twitch of your fingers, and he watched your breath, the shakiness of it. 

His eyes observed your mannerisms, the way you took everything in. Perhaps it was your kind’s nature? Perhaps it was simply the way you were? Your eyes glanced down at the cigarette burning away, lips parting. 

“Let me grab something for your…um...yeah,” you say softly, knowing full well you didn’t have an ashtray.

It didn’t matter; you couldn’t bear the eye contact any longer. The kitchenette was quite small, two steps and you were at a cabinet, but it was just enough. Just enough of a break from him and the waves of nervousness he brought you. Your movements reflected your desire, as if you were wading through a pool of thick honey. You needed to stretch it for as long as you could. Yet, you blinked, and he was right next to you. 

You leapt with shock, a gasp leaving your lips as you took two steps back from him, your waist hitting the sink. You held the small tea plate you had grabbed against your chest, as it rose and fell rapidly. 

“When and why,” he asked you, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean,” you stutter out, setting the plate in between the two of you. 

“When and why did you start watching me?”

His eyes glinted in almost interest, or perhaps a well-masked interest. But you had been watching him for so long that you saw through it.

“I started,” you state shakily. “A year ago.”

“A year,” he repeated, shock palpable in his voice. 

His surprise was understandable; they had only known of your presence for 4 months. 

“I found the Theatre De Vampires almost immediately after I moved here,” you quickly explained. “You see, I work as a designer and, at the time, I needed a job fast. So I scouted some theatres that might need me. It’s quite easy to see who needs new costumes by watching the shows. Your theatre was my second stop.” 

The revelation hung in the air. You swallowed thickly, awaiting his response, your stance shifting constantly. The silence was suffocating; you had yet to gauge how he felt. Did he approve? Was he unhappy? Had he expec-

“Why?”

Your eyes flitted up to him at the abrupt question. 

“I don’t know,” you stuttered. 

“Don’t lie to me,” he frowned, causing a pang in your heart. “I’ve allowed you to live even after the horror you’ve brought upon my coven.”

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t me-”

“I’ll ask you again,” he states. “Why did you start watching me?”

A warmth entered your cheeks. Your obsession had such a superficial beginning that even the thought of it made your nails dig into the nearest skin available. 

“You were pretty,” you whispered.

“Pretty?”

You nodded in shame, arms crossing in front of you. Should you say more? You wouldn’t have continued watching him if you hadn't liked him. Tell him that? Maybe tell him how you would listen in on the coven’s rehearsals, relishing in the sound of his voice and grimacing when someone angered him. Or perhaps you could tell him how you knew how he felt, knew what it was like to want to be wanted, just because. Tell him you wanted him. 

“You were pretty and scary and cold,” you rambled, dropping your hands and fidgeting with your fingers. “You intrigued me, and so I started to go to more shows, and then I found out the truth about your shows. That intrigued me even more. And so I started listening in on your rehearsals before a hunt. I would just sit there listening to you.” 

You sounded crazy. 

“The way you command people and the way you talk to yourself. Or even the way you would let silences hang to drive home a point,” you continue, eyes locked on your hands. “I would go hungry some nights because I would just be stuck listening. It's why ya’ll were able to find me. I had gone too many nights without feeding, and I wasn’t able to control myself. But, maybe it was for the best! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have ever gotten to see you up close.”

Stop it. 

“I loved having your eyes on me, even for a moment,” you sighed in remembrance. “Or your curls and your style. I especially like when you…”

You stop abruptly, placing a hand over your mouth. Physically having to stop yourself from revealing anything further. You shifted in your place by the sink, fingers still wringing in front of you. Why did you always say the wrong thing? 

This obsessiveness has always been your problem. You always chased everyone away, had always been too much. But it wasn’t your fault, you reasoned. You just loved hard, you reasoned. There was nothing wrong with you, surely. 

“Don’t do that,” he snaps, softly. “Finish your sentence, little one.”

Your eyes snapped up to him and found a look that warmed you fiercely. It was wonder. His golden eyes were wide with expectation, eagerness almost. It was hidden well, but it was there. He liked what you were saying. It was the highest form of praise. 

“What did you especially like,” he asks, a slight tease in his tone.

You had never heard that tone from him before; you liked it. Of course, you liked everything about him. 

“I…um…especially liked when you would roll your sleeves up,” you admit, ears on fire with embarrassment. “It made your arms look really good.”

“What did you imagine them doing,” he whispers, moving to stand directly in front of you. “My arms, that is. Tell me.”

What didn’t you imagine his arms doing? You wish you could say that your obsession with the man in front of you was pure, but that would be a lie. Yes, you loved his curls, but you always wondered what they would look like messed up. If you were to mess them up. What would his eyes look like above you? Beneath you? Would he let you take care of him, or would he like to take charge of things? Both?

But these things were just silly ponderings. You would never act on them, unless Armand did. and that wouldn’t happen. Would never happen. And you were okay with that, as long as you got to keep watching him and being of service to him. That was enough for you. 

“I d-don’t think I can answer that question,” you stutter out.

You note the now useless tea plate that you got out for his cigarette, long burned out now. You take that chance to get out of this intense interaction, grabbing it and turning to the cupboards to put it away. Your shoulders loosened for a moment at the reprieve as you opened them. You rise on your toes for a split second, placing the plate on top of the rest of them, the clinking of the glass echoing through your small dark apartment. 

You roll back onto your full foot, closing the cupboard before tensing more than you have that entire evening. Warm breath tickled your neck as knuckles grazed your waist. 

“You can answer it,” he breathes. “I know you want to please me. Don’t you?” 

Your chest heaves at his acknowledgement of your dedication to him before nodding dumbly. 

“Say it.”

“I want to please you,” you repeat immediately. 

“Good,” he smiles. “And you have, my dear. Surprisingly so.”

Your senses were turned up to 10, his scent so close to you. His skin rubbing on your clothes. It sent shivers all throughout your body, knowing that the only thing preventing his skin from touching yours was a couple of layers of thin cotton. He smelled so good, like expensive body oils and sun. 

“But, I want you to continue to please me. Would you like that?”

“Yes,” you sigh, shaking.

You feel the coolness of his body leave you, and you have to fight the frown. You turn cautiously to see him moving a chair to sit in front of you.

“You can stop at any time,” he says. 

Your eyebrows quirk at his statement. Whatever could he mean? The confusion must have been quite noticeable because he chuckles at you, crossing his legs gracefully. 

“Come kneel before me, my dear.”

You stiffen at his command, but do it nonetheless, moving as quickly as your shock would allow. You take two steps before placing your knees on the uncomfortable wood of your floors. 

“Closer.”

You shuffle a little, looking up at him for guidance. You wanted to be perfect for him. 

He nods in acceptance, his hand coming to cup the side of your cheeks. You stopped breathing as he caressed you. His hand traveled to your chin, forcing you to look at him. He gives you a look, one that tells you one thing: ‘don’t look down.’

“Now, tell me what you imagine my arms doing. There’s no need to feel embarrassed, my dear. Not with me.”

You nod in understanding, even though it seemed the air had been sucked out of the room. Leaving you with very little room to breathe.

“I,” you tremble. “I imagine them…um.”

Armand waits patiently as you struggle to get the words out, eyes searching his. He saw your nails digging into your skin as you tried to obey him, preferring to mar your own skin instead of disobeying him. It was endearing, really.

“Come closer to me,” he instructs, uncrossing his legs. 

Silently, you shuffle closer, your knees aching slightly. 

“Good, so good for me.”

Your brain was actively melting at his words, your body turning lax and fuzzy. Even now, after watching him for so long, he still surprises you. 

“Now, place your head on my lap,” he continued to guide. “However, that feels comfortable for you, my dear.” 

His eyes tell you not to question him, so you do what he says, your arms coming up to act as pillows before placing your head on them, adjusting for a moment before settling. His hand comes to the top of your head, fingers threading through your hair and finding your scalp. He smiles as your body relaxes slightly at his ministrations.

“I imagine them,” you swallowed, finally. “Holding me down or just holding me in general.”

“Mmm,” he hums. “How about my hands?”

“Your hands,” you sigh happily, as his nails scratch at your scalp. 

“Yes,” he almost giggled. “My hands, surely you’ve imagined them as well. Haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me,” he urges, fingers beginning to tug lightly at your strands, grinning when you groan quietly. 

“That’s a bit more, um,” you stutter. “V-vulgar, Maître.”

“Vulgar,” he laughs. “I think we’re past vulgar, little ghoul. What? You’re gonna say that you imagined them entering you? Curling and thrusting until your juices run down my arm?”

Your skin burns at his words, because they were the truth. But, he wasn’t pleased with your silence. Tugging your hair until you were looking at him. 

“And my dear, please,” he grins. “Armand, for you.” 

“Armand,” you repeat shyly. 

“Very good,” he coos. “I think I might keep you after all.”

Armand relishes the eagerness that was shown in your eyes at his revelation. What a gift you are. He can’t believe his luck. 

“Would you like to feel my fingers, little one?”

“O-only if you want me to, Maî…I mean A-armand.”

He groans at your response. Your perfect response. He begins to lean down, his grip on your hair tightening. You gasp at the movement, squirming just a hair. 

“Kiss me,” he commands, his eyes reflecting your neediness. “Perfect little ghoul.”

He moved your head with your hair, his lips connecting with yours gently but firmly. He tasted faintly of the woman he had drained two nights prior, her fear still present in his mouth. You wanted to lick all of it, but you only took what Armand gave you. 

His tongue danced around yours, licking and curling, smirking as he listened to your whines. He can feel you writhing, and he lets you, feeling excitement course through his body at the thought of training you. He hasn’t felt like this in a very long time, oh how he wanted you. 

“Stand for me, ma petit,” he gasps, standing abruptly. “Stand up and lie down on the table.”

You listen, struggling to stand up but succeeding with the help of his hand, firm on the small of your back. A groan left your lips as your knees buckled from the weight being put on them after kneeling for a bit. 

“I’ve got you,” Armand reassures, helping you lie on the table. “From now on, I’ve got you.”

You nod, your eyes watching as his figure stands before you, his hands gingerly finding a home on your knees. It was strange; he was so used to the coolness of vampires. From their skin to the way they go through life, they were always so cold. But you were warm. As if you were still human. He could hear your heartbeat and feel your blood rushing through your veins.

You were new, something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. 

His hands rub down your calves, feeling the warmth of your skin against him, relishing in it. 

“How would you like to be mine forever,” he asks breathlessly. “I’m growing to  like you, little one.”

Slowly, he tries to separate your legs, frowning when he feels some resistance. So, instead, he brings your ankle to his mouth, placing a small peck to the skin. 

“Mai-,” you stutter. “I mean, Armand, please. You don’t have to do this. Knowing that you’re happy is enough for me.”

His eyes flit to your face and find you watching him; he likes it. Being watched by you, knowing that you admired him so much and so lovingly. Not expecting anything in return. 

“It’s hardly fair,” he feigns, ignoring your words. “You know so much about me, and yet, I hardly know anything about you. You’re a ghoul and not from Paris.”

His fingers wrap around your shoes as he works to take them off, gently unbuckling each strap and slipping them off. 

“I know that you work as a seamstress, and I believe that is all.”

You sigh as he places a firmer kiss on the front of your shin once he is done with your shoes. You didn’t deserve this. He shouldn’t be doing this. You should be on your knees for him. 

“Separate your legs,” he instructs firmly, placing one last kiss on your other shin. “I want to see you.”

Heat blooms in your face. He watches as you battle yourself, your legs opening slowly and then tensing again. He could see your devotion to him, determined to do whatever it took to please him.

“I want to see you,” he repeats, softer. “My pretty little ghoul, who went to such lengths to please me. To learn me.”

His hands gently push your thighs away from each other, grinning as your clothed cunt is now on display for him. His fingers rubbed up your legs before two fingers rubbed up your slit. You nearly close your legs at the sensation. 

“I want to learn you too,” he reveals. “I want to know you just as you know me. Wouldn’t that be nice, little one?”

You nod dumbly, thighs shaking at the attention. 

“You’re so pretty for me,” he sighs happily, lowering his face. 

“Fuck,” you let out finally, whimpering at his fingers still rubbing against your slit. 

Armand chuckles at your outburst, tapping your clit through your underwear. Grin widening as you jump at the contact. 

“Am I making you feel good,” he asks, thumbing, finally circling your clit.  

“Always,” you whisper, looking at him with nothing but admiration and wonder. 

His heart shuddered at that look. He didn’t know what you wanted after this and, to be honest, he didn’t care. You were his now. Forever. He had searched for a being that would love and care so deeply, wanting him just because. And fuck, you were perfect. 

His mouth connected with your clothed pussy, the cotton damp against his tongue as your wetness had begun to seep through. He also didn’t know what he had done to deserve this, to deserve you. To have you writhing against his tongue, trying to stay still and be good. His arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and trapping you against his mouth. 

Your taste was strong even through those thin cotton panties that would be ripped very soon if they didn’t come off. Behind you, his finger hooks onto the hem of your underwear, pulling skillfully as he yanks them off of you. 

“Want to see you properly,” he breathes before licking at your bare clit. 

You moan loudly at that, the sound going straight to his groin. You tasted even better, and he didn’t think that was possible. He wasted no time; you were going to cum for him. He wanted to taste it so bad.

He tongued your clit, tongue rolling and flicking against the sensitive bud. You could feel his sharp nails digging into your thighs, never enough to hurt you, but just enough to feel it. He was strong, stronger than he let on. If you were moving, squirming around, it was because he was letting you. 

The sounds of his happiness echoed through your empty apartment, his groans and whines making your mind go numb. He allowed you to roll your hips against him, grinding your core up into his mouth. Your abdomen twitching from the stimulation. 

As he kept your clit in his mouth, his finger began to circle your entrance, dipping in slightly but never fully in. 

“Please,” you gasp, hips bucking against him. “Please.”

“Hmm?”

His golden eyes flick up to your face, a playful swirl glinting at you. 

“I don’t know what you mean, my dear,” he grinned, fingers coming to circle your clit. “You must be more specific.”

He smirked at you, his lips glossed with saliva and your juices as they returned to your core. His fingers still toying with your entrance.

“Please,” you whimper. “Your fingers, please.”

“My fingers,” he questions, enjoying your embarrassment. “Where would you like my fingers, my dear?”

“Armand,” you whine, head falling back against the table. “Inside, p-please.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you admitted your needs to him, taking an interest in the wall next to you. 

“Inside you,” he repeats, kissing right above your clit before placing another right below your clothed belly button. 

He kissed your skin through your clothes, kissing the valley between your breasts and allowing his tongue to lick at your pulse. For a brief moment, Armand allowed himself to wonder what ghoul blood would taste like. Would it taste human? You were alive after all, unlike him. Your heart still beats in your chest, and the blood in your cheeks still gives you color.  

He flirts with the idea of tasting you in a different way, baring his fangs and trailing them along your carotid. He felt the pull, the light tug in his stomach. Bite her. It would be so easy for him to. The sharp of his fangs dragged against your skin, the silence that filled that space was deafening. 

Like a fawn freezing in the face of danger, you draw a sharp breath as you feel his teeth scratch at your most vulnerable area. You shook, every carnal instinct in your body telling you to protect yourself, to fight back. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

The ancient watches silently as you turn your neck to him, baring your carotid in an act of submission. The air grew heavier at your display, the weight of your actions not lost on him. 

“If you would like,” you say, voice curling around him like sweet smoke. “You can taste me. I’m not dead, so it wouldn’t hurt you.” 

And he almost did, the sounds of your blood rushing through the artery loud and clear in his head. His mind continued to wander as he gave your pulse a quick nip, moving to your jaw. 

“Perhaps another time,” he decides, pulling his nose away from your neck. “My sweet wants my fingers inside her, and it wouldn’t be fair to deny you. Would it, my dear?”

He pauses, face right in front of yours now. He places a peck on the corner of your lips, the air crackling as he feels you tense under him. 

“You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Even when I didn’t know it,” Armand praised. “You deserve my fingers, don’t you?”

You nod, neediness coming to the surface. Your senses screaming for him to kiss you. Your eyes clouded with lust and want, all for him. There wasn’t a world where Armand could deny you. 

His lips connect with yours gently, as if he were scared to scare you away. He moved against you flawlessly, allowing two fingers to slip into you, groaning at the heat that enveloped them. Without thinking, you grab onto his curls, pulling him even closer. 

His hips buck at the tugging, whimpering into the kiss while his fingers curl inside you. The sounds of your whines and his groans mixed with the sound of his fingers entering you filled your kitchen; it was the most erotic thing you had ever heard. 

Armand moves to kiss your jaw once more, working his way back down your body, watching his fingers fuck you. His lips wrap around your clit once more, grinning as you arch your back in pleasure. He was coming to love the sight of you like this, all fucked out just from his mouth and fingers. You were beautiful. 

“Are you going to give me what I want,” Armand whispers to you, fingers still working you open. 

“I’ll give you whatever you want,” you babbled mindlessly. “Or do whatever you want, maitre. Promise.”

Two quick, wet slaps echoed through your apartment, your whimpers following loudly. 

“What’s my name,” he asks, looking up at you through his long lashes. 

His heart skips a beat as your eyes widen, realizing your mistake even in your fucked out state. 

“Armand,” you rasp, still twitching as his thumb stays on your clit. “I meant A-armand. I’m sorry.”

Armand slips in a third finger, watching your eyes roll back at the stretch. 

“It’s quite all right,” he grunts, kissing your mound. “Still my perfect little ghoul.”

His praises sent shockwaves to your core, your walls  tightening around his fingers as your abdomen quivers. His movements speed up, his need for your release increasing. Your cries get louder as he does, only motivating him more. 

“Come on,” he encourages. “I know you’re close, my love. Don’t think.”

An intruding yet relaxing sensation entered your brain, his voice seemed to get louder, and you could think of nothing else. 

“Don’t think,” he repeated, the warm buzzing getting stronger. 

Suddenly, a white searing heat shot through your body, starting in your core but quickly traveling to the rest of your limbs. Armand watched as you writhed, riding out your orgasm against him. He lapped up your release, savoring the taste against his lips. 

He continued licking, not stopping even when he could feel you shaking from the overstimulation. He didn’t want to leave a drop of your perfection behind. 

“So good,” he muttered against you in between licks. “So fucking good.”

“T-thank you,” you mewl, hips searching for reprieve away from him. 

He finally relents, placing one final kiss on your thigh. He brings himself to your face again, taking in your flushed expression. 

“No need to be shy with me anymore, ma bichette,” he smiles warmly, giving you a quick peck. “This body is mine to take care of now. So, rest and let me take care of you.”

|*|

all you wanted to do was quietly use the bathroom and you decided to leave the light off to like… save energy. only to end up being scared out of your skin by one of anton’s late night companions.

“god, what the hell!” the girl jumped backwards, almost hitting her head on the doorframe as you reached to cover yourself. “who are you??”

you raised a brow. you knew who she could have been, but—

“girl, who are you?” you countered.

you knew damn well you should have kept your mouth shut, because you got called the fuck out. ‘well, anton didn’t say he had a girlfriend, are you his girlfriend? did i just wreck a home?’ uh.. no. ‘how come you weren’t here when we got back but you’re here now?’ uhh… ‘if you’re not his girl, and he has no roommates, why are you here in the middle of the night?’ … — deep down you knew you were the problem here.

unlike anton, you weren’t lucky enough to have parents who would pay for you to live in a nice little apartment for the entirety of college, so you lived with your two roommates; one of which was at the height of a lover’s quarrel with her partner. things had gotten so bad between them that the morning of this incident — or rather the morning before — seeing as it happened at around 2am, anton kindly agreed to let you come back to his place after you finished work, and spend the weekend there. and so, you weren’t there when anton and this poor girl got back to his apartment, because your shift ended about an hour after they had knocked each other out. you poor soul.

“why would you say that?” anton laughed at you, “you don’t live here.”

like you didn’t know that… asshole. you flopped down in one of the dining chairs, attempting to flip your half drank water bottle, at his kitchen table. and failing. “i just couldn’t stop myself from giving attitude. because, why are you trying to talk to me and i’m on the toilet… i needed her gone out the room.”

“well. she’s never gonna text me now.”

“no?” you rose a brow at him, “well, would you have responded?”

anton was notorious (within your two person friendship) for losing the numbers of girls that he slept with. that or somehow indirectly manifesting for them to lose his number, so he had no choice but to move on to the next. he didn’t see this as sleazy, fuckboy activity, however. he was simply just moving forwards through life. so in response to your question? anton just smiled back at you from where he was stood in the kitchenette. he didn’t know the answer. not for sure at least.

“you know she thought we were dating. she was so mad at you.”

his eyebrows shot up, “well, did you defend me?”

“i said i would never date you, and that i was visiting because of the thing with my roommate.” in a display of nonchalance, you pressed down on your baby hairs and just looked on at him.

“wow,” anton pushed up off the counter and took his bowl to the sink. “that’s sweet of you.”

“y’know.” you waited for him to turn back and face you. “if i was one of these girls, i would hate the both of us.”

“why?”

you looked towards the ceiling, as if to try and find the words to say. “well, i feel like i’m always here— like at your place. and we know almost everything about each other, i got a key to your house; we’re just, like, a little too close.”

“first of all, you’re not here enough—”

you shot him a glare and he threw his hands up in defence. “anton, do you not see the problem with that statement?”

anton pursed his lips in supposedly deep thought. “damn. i think you’ve been cockblocking me.”

the way your brain short-circuited hearing him say that— usually it was you cursing. never him. “you’ve been cockblocking yourself, toni.”

“no, but i’m being serious. the girl i brought home was not the first girl i talked to that night. that usually doesn’t happen.” anton came to sit by you at the table, putting a chair right next to yours but turning it the opposite direction so he could be facing you. subconsciously, you rest your feet on his thighs causing him to catch your ankles in his hands as you tried not to roll your eyes at possibly the most sleazy, frat boy coded statement you had ever heard.

“do you actually hear yourself sometimes? this is not the sweet toni i grew up with. you’re something else.”

“god, you’re right.” he laughed out. “i think all the attention is getting to my head.”

you leaned forward towards him, “oh, you think so?”

anton pushed your shoulder gently, “leave me alone, i’m coming to terms with it, i’m—” he struggled to find the word, “i’m self-reflecting.”

and then he paused. “does our friendship get you any less romantic attention?”

“hmm.” you had to think about it. though anton claims not to be a fuckboy intentionally — or what you liked to call a ‘self-proclaimed pussy magnet’ — you knew yourself that you weren’t as… sexually outgoing (?) as anton. “no less than i had before, i guess. people that know you, know about our weird little friendship and then; you poor thing, you have to talk to two girls before you can get laid. but the people that know just me don’t necessarily know about our weird little friendship.”

“huh.”

“‘cause i’m not trying to be like one of those girls that tells everyone about, ‘my homeboy this, my homeboy that’ and then everyone assumes we’re fucking and i cant even defend myself.”

anton tried to ignore his face warming up, “no, yeah. hah, is that really a thing?” a thought was definitely being formed.

“yes, bro, even i cringe at it. i don’t wanna be that girl.”

“wait so, some of these guys, these friends, are actually like, sleeping with each other?” anton scratched the back of his neck, that was prickling with nerves.

“i mean, yeah, probably. the way they act.” you just laughed obliviously while anton’s mind started to fill up with ideas. like, say, if you were the kind of person who talked to others about your friendship with anton. would people think you’re so close that you might as well just.. be with each other? would people accuse you of sleeping together or dating even if you weren’t?

“yo, imagine if that was us…”

your head jolted in his direction and pure confusion painted your features in an incredulous expression, “anton, can you not… oh my god.”

his head dropped in laughter. as well as defeat.

but you missed that, so you continued. “no, that would be horrible. why would you even put that in my head?”

“so, i’m actually right here.” anton waved his hand at you and you laughed.

“no, no,” rushing to defend yourself, “not in a mean way, i just. i wouldn’t like the attention from people and, yeah, no. i don’t know.”

“yeah, okay. i get that.”

“why do you ask anyway? what would you think if it was us?” you prodded back. you would never let him ask such a stressful question without getting him back. you needed to get even.

“oh.” anton was starting to think he should have never tried it with you. however. you getting that nervous from his initial asking the question gave him a slither of confidence. “i mean. i think that it would be interesting. it’d be kinda cool to see if we could get to know each other any more than we already do.”

“in what sense?”

“like sex stuff.” anton’s voice was soft and quiet. “like what you’re into, stuff like that.”

“wouldn’t you like to know, chanyoung.”

he smiled at you, squinting in acknowledgement of your teasing “i would. tell me something.”

you gave it some thought before replying, “are you serious?”

he replied, “are you?”

you weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but you took at as a case of ‘i am if you are, and if you’re not, neither am i.’

“okay, anton. it’s 9 in the morning, but sure uh.. i like a submissive man.”

the tips of anton’s ears grew hot. “oh, wow. tell me more.”

you laughed in his face. because no way these are the lines he uses when he’s picking up girls every other night. this was going to be the most embarrassing conversation you had ever had. like, ever. you crossed your legs over each other, still over anton’s thighs.

“there’s nothing more to that statement really. your turn.”

“i like… kissing. but not just normal kissing like.. kissing.” he dragged the word out a little, really putting umph on it like you were gonna know exactly what he was talking about. you were so annoyed.

“be so for real for a second.”

“what?!”

you sighed. “no, cause i really got a lot from that, thank you. now, i wish i’d kept quiet.”

“what, no! i’m just bad at explaining things.” you tried to retract your legs from anton’s and he grabbed your calf in attempts to stop you from curling in on yourself out of pure embarrassment.

you covered your face. “yeah, really bad.”

“listen, i could show you better than i can tell you.”

“i bet you could, toni, but that’s not gonna turn back time.” you immediately shot him down. before you realised. “wait okay, you can show me.”

“oh, i didn’t think you’d agree. i thought the idea of getting intimate with me was horrible?”

“i mean that’s if people are aware of it and like… try to talk to me about it at school. right now, nobody knows. so i guess it’s less horrible.”

“alright, c’mere.” anton held out his hand for you to lean into, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. gently pecking your lips a couple times before ghosting the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission. he ran the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip before pulling away just slightly to whisper, “can you open up a little?”

you furrowed your brows up at him and he took that as confusion, laughing a little “i wanna put my tongue there.”

you parted your lips a little and he kissed you with tongue, making the both of you sigh quietly. with each movement of his jaw and of his lips against yours, his tongue made contact with yours and it triggered a build of warmth in your lower abdomen. each time his tongue licked into your mouth, it pulled a whine out of the back of your throat. your hands rose up into his hair and your breathing started to quicken. at this point, even though you were feeling significantly warmer than you did a few seconds ago, you still didn’t realise what made this any different from ‘regular’ kissing. you figured anton was just being dramatic. that was until he sucked your tongue into his mouth along with your bottom lip. this made you straight up moan — you had to pull away.

“holy shit, anton.”

anton wiped the saliva off of his plush lips with his thumb. “see it’s like kissing but it’s kissing.”

“what the hell.” you huffed out in a deep exhale, twisting a curl around one of your fingers. you didn’t even know what to do with yourself after that.

anton tried to stop his eyes from dropping down to your heaving chest in the tight baby tee you were wearing as pajamas. he wanted to remain composed after putting the moves on you; maintain his shy, yet simultaneously confident demeanour. and then he remembered what you mentioned earlier. anton softened his voice ever so slightly. —if that was even possible.

“you know, you’re a really good kisser.” he held eye contact with you and the delivery of his sentence immediately made you wet.

“um, thank you.”

anton leaned closer to you, keeping his voice hushed despite the fact that you were the only two people in the apartment. “i didn’t expect it to, but kissing you made me really hard.”

“shit, really?” you were overwhelmed. you had just been kissed breathless by your best friend and now he was laying his truths all out on the table.

“i know you feel a type of way about it, but… i wanna fuck you."

“anton…”

“please,” you felt his thumbs rub you from both sides of your hips that he was now holding in his hands. he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth that made your eyes flutter closed. “i know it would feel so good.”

“toni, when you ask me like that—“

“you like that?” anton practically purred before attaching his soft lips to the curve of your neck. his hand slid down the front of your pajama pants to start rubbing you over your panties at a torturingly slow pace. “when i beg you like that? i know you do, you’re soaked.”

“fuck, toni…” you grabbed onto his shoulder for balance, lifting one of your knees higher to grant him a better angle at rubbing those tight circles over your bundle of nerves.

“hey, look at me.” he rubbed your clit faster, “can i make you cum before i fuck this pussy? huh? please?”

you could only lean back and moan in response.

“come on you gotta tell me. can i please?”

“mm-hm. yes, yes, baby.”

you dug your nails into his bicep and he groaned. “can i get i kiss, too?”

in a low whine, you pressed your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as you started getting closer to orgasm.

“yeah, moan for me just like that, baby. that’s so fucking hot. you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded at him and he continued with the same relentless pace of his fingers against your clothed clit until your hips started to shake with your orgasm.

“fuck, you’re so sexy when you cum for me. you gonna let me fuck you, mama?”

you were breathless in shock. in all your years of being friends with this anton, he had never talked so nasty.

anton swiftly lifted you onto the table and yanked your pajama pants down with your panties. with big, soft hands, he kneaded your thighs, “you’re dripping in front of me.”

“well, i just came.”

this made anton laugh, “well, i’m gonna make you cum again. ‘kay?”

you nodded as he pulled his dick out of his basketball shorts and started to jerk himself off, rubbing his tip against your slit. you went to hold onto his back with one hand and he took this as a sign that you were ready for him. pushing into you slowly, he muffled his own moan against your lips.

somehow, after only just put his dick in you, he was already a mess. “mmh, fuck you feel good. you feel so good around me.”

anton’s arms wrapped under your thighs, and started bringing your hips to meet his faster.

“fuck, toni, right there!”

he moaned into a sloppy kiss to your lips, “mm, right there? ‘m i hitting it right?”

“yes, keep going. you’re doing so good..”

anton didn’t change his position, only moving one of his hands to start rubbing your clit again. “fuck, keep talking to me like that.”

you held his neck to pull him closer to you, “you’re so good. and you look so pretty when you’re fucking me.”

all of your praise was going straight to anton’s dick. he was visibly finding it increasingly harder to keep himself together. he leaned forward to get closer to you, grinding his hips into yours. peppering kisses all over your bare chest.

“ah- uhm, i wanna cum. wanna cum for you.” anton’s voice was barely above a whisper as he rambled against your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth to mumble his pathetic sounds. although, to no avail, he was still mumbling to you, teeth grazing the skin.

“you can cum toni, i’m close too.”

“you gotta cum first, baby,” what a gentleman. “if you cum first that’s gonna make me c-cum.” anton whined flicking his tongue against one of your nipples as if to punctuate, “ugh, please.”

maybe about 30 more seconds of anton’s desperate whimpering pushed you over the edge. and you didn’t want to dwell to much on why this was, but it was surely one of the most pleasurable orgasms you had ever had. and the irregular clenching of your pussy around his dick was completely it for him. he pulled out of you cautiously and instead of jerking himself to completion all over your naked body, he was reduced to grinding against your wet pussy, panting and sighing until his own orgasm washed over him.

“shit, anton are you crying?” you cradled his face, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb. he couldn’t even reply — he was inside of you, but you fucked the shit out of him.

“i’m a fuckin’ mess. i think we might have some built up tension or something.” anton got up from where he was leant against your chest. he pulled his shorts up and flopped down into a dining chair, dropping his head down onto one of your thighs where your legs were hanging off the table.

you shifted from your position of sitting up on your elbows to laying your back flat on the kitchen table. “don’t even say that.”

“okay.”

the two of you sat in your silence. it was comfortable silence for you, you hoped it was for him too.

without moving from where he was laid on your thigh, anton’s hand tapped against your leg to grab your attention. “so was that horrible for you, or?”

you could only laugh. “shut the fuck up, anton.”

next ->

Ꮚ

Omoi→ Ally (Professional, Supposed To Resist)

His hands tremble on your hips, cock sinking into you slow, careful. Omoi’s voice stutters in your ear, breathless. “Shit—I really shouldn’t—”

You smile through a whimper, nails dragging down his arms. “You shouldn’t be fucking me like this. Should be professional, right?” He groans, forehead pressed to yours. “Don’t… don’t say it like that. Makes me wanna—fuck—makes me wanna go harder.”

And he does. His thrusts turn frantic, desperate, his hand clamping over your mouth to stifle the moans spilling out.

You pry it away, whispering, “Too late. You’re already inside. Might as well.”

Omoi’s eyes flutter, lips parting like he’s sorry for everything, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t. He leans over you like a man tending to a precious, private flame. His dick hits deep and messy, his words a blur of apologies and filth: “So warm—so perfect. I’ll make it up to you later, just… let me stay inside a little longer.”

Ꮚ

Asuma Sarutobi → Family Friend

Your legs shake on his thighs, stretched wide around him. Asuma’s beard scratches your cheek when he leans in close, smoke still clinging to his breath. He should’ve walked away. Should’ve remembered the way your father would look at him across a shogi table, laughing.

But here you are, slick and whimpering, clinging to his shoulders.

“You really shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper, voice breathless, broken with a moan.

His hand palms your ass, squeezes hard enough to bruise. “Then why’s this pussy holding me like it doesn’t wanna let go?” he rasps. He drags you down harder, bottoming out, making your eyes roll back.

You shake your head, thighs trembling, “He’d be so upset if he knew.”

Asuma chuckles low, dirty, nipping at your neck. “Mhm, but you're still taking it for me, honey.” His pace turns rougher, greedy. “You know how long I’ve wanted this? You think I care if he finds out?”

Your gasp turns into a whimper, and he grinds deeper, watching your face crumble. “Go on. Tell me to stop.”

But you don’t. You can’t.

Ꮚ

Kakashi Hatake -> Old Sensei

You’re on your knees on his couch, hips raised, head buried in the cushions. Kakashi’s heavy cock splits you open slow, every inch dragging. His hand rests easy on your back, voice deceptively calm.

“You used to train me,” you gasp out, eyes glassy with pleasure. “You really shouldn’t—”

He cuts you off with a sharp thrust that makes your breath hitch. “Shouldn’t what? Ruin you? Feel how wet you are? You’ve been waiting for this longer than I have.”

You turn your head, cheek pressed to fabric, whispering like it’s a secret, “You were my sensei.”

His laugh is low, cruel. “Was. And look at you now—arched up, begging for cock. Tell me to stop.”

But you push back instead, taking him deeper.

Kakashi groans, hand sliding into your coils, tugging your head back so he can see your face. “I’ll stop when you stop clenching around me.” His thrusts get sharper, harder, filling the room with the slap of skin. “Go on, sweet girl. Tell me how wrong it is while you drip all over me.”

Ꮚ

Yamato → Commanding Officer

His wood release binds your wrists above your head, body pinned against his chest. His dick stretches you full, grinding slow, deep. He observes everything: your flushed face, the glow of your skin, the way your rationale slips with your mind.

“This is—ahh—wrong,” you whisper, writhing helpless in his hold. “You really shouldn’t—”

Yamato’s voice is quiet but sharp in your ear. “You think I care about right or wrong when you look like this? When you squeeze me this tight?” His hand slides to your throat, tilts your head back. “Sweet little Chunin, acting like she doesn’t want it while dripping down my cock.”

You whimper, “You’re my superior—”

He chuckles dark, biting your shoulder. “Exactly. And I’m ordering you to take it.” His thrusts slam sharp and deliberate, making you cry out. “No running. No hiding. You’ll learn discipline between these sheets.”

Ꮚ

Madara Uchiha → Leader & Superior

He doesn’t fuck you like a man. He fucks you like a conqueror. Your back’s pressed to the table in his war room, scrolls scattering to the floor with each thrust.

“Why are you—You shouldn’t be—” your voice cracks on a moan, legs shaking in the air.

Madara cuts you off with a growl, hand locking on your throat. “I shouldn’t? I decide what I should and shouldn’t do.” His dick drives in, thick and brutal, forcing cries out of you. “Your body answers better than your tongue, girl. Gripping me like it was made for me.”

You whimper, “You’re my leader—”

“And you’re mine now,” he snarls, hips snapping hard enough to rattle the table. He leans close, breath hot against your lips. “No one else will ever touch you. Wrong or not, you’ll take every drop.”

And when you cum, tears streaming, he fucks through it, smirking down at your wrecked body.

❤︎𝓟𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓹𝓹𝓸𝓻𝓽 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓒𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 ❤︎

Naruto Men VS "too much"

Headcanon Masterlist

Cloud dividers by @uzmacchiato

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A scholarship kid. Poor. Kids had been shunned for less grievous offenses. You could not wave a hand and make your problems disappear. You arrived wearing a uniform a size too small and terribly tailored. Your loafers had seen better days. Where other girls smelled of luxury, the scent of department store vanilla and coconut followed you around.

By those accounts alone, your future should have been set in stone. A nobody. Reo knew how they treated scholarship kids—who were brilliant on paper but worth nothing in reality. Kids who were only admitted because of taxes paid by real Hakuho Academy students.

And brilliant you were. But you were unpredictable. Something no one had been able to control. Not Reo. Not anybody. A storm that refused to bend. Rock that refused to erode.

You challenged professors, faculty and students openly. You outscored Reo, and other legacy students without apology. You did not bend when students went for the cheap shots. Your tongue was sharp as steel and your mind quicker still. You turned your peers around and inside out, without resulting to petty squabbles and tricks.

You refused to adhere to the social hierarchy that kept Hakuho Academy alive.

You were interesting, and for that reason alone, Reo had to have you. And because Reo wanted you, Seishiro did too.

Sunlight filtered through tall, arching windows. The student lounge at this time was empty. No one came in when Reo did, unless he wanted them to.

He hadn't wanted anyone here but Seishiro, because Seishiro liked the quiet and the hum of the vending machines and the fact that the student lounge connected all of their major classrooms together and in an agreeable distance from their dorm room.

In his lap, Seishiro made a clear whine and the sounds from his mobile game fell quiet as his phone dangled precariously from his hand. Reo chuckled softly and resumed carding through his hair as ordered. What his treasure wants, his treasure gets.

This bubble of tranquility continued on for half an hour more, before the doors opened. Moment now broken, Reo's eyes snapped to the doors of student lounge, annoyed.

That annoyance bubbled out of him immediately once he saw that it was only you.

Of course you wouldn't respect the unspoken rule that the student lounge was his and no one could come in while the doors were closed. Reo watched with deliberate precision as you crossed the floor and moved over to the vending machines.

If you noticed Reo and Seishiro sitting on the couches, you said nothing. You didn't even look their way. By now, his treasure had once again paused his game, head moving in Reo's lap as he fixed his gaze on you.

You seemed to be stuck between two choices for a while. Reo clicked his tongue, and obediently, Seishiro lifted his head from his lap. He rested against the arm of the couch instead and watched, ever quiet.

Reo's mouth curved into a smile as you still refused to acknowledge him—even when he had moved to stand right beside you. Your eyes drifted from the box of cookies and cream pocky to a bottle of water as if you were making the hardest decision in the world.

At last, you sighed. You pulled your wallet from the inner pocket of the school issued blazer (this time, fitting properly). It was, like the rest of your personal things, far from new. The brown leather was fading. In some places, there was no leather at all.

Reo's last gifts to you had gone under with very little success. He quickly learned you were not moved by the expensive watch, or designer phonecase or discreet third-party offers from threatened staff. The Prada loafers pulled a snort from you directly. And you left them sitting there; on the corner of your desk. You did not take them with you when class dismissed.

You pushed the first bill into the machine and cursed when it was returned. Not straight enough—and you had put it in backwards, anyway. You pulled the bill free, and rolled it straight on the corner of the vending machine.

Reo cancelled your order. Now you seemed to register his presence. His fingers were quick, measured, not too eager—even though that was exactly what he was.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot" He said, pressing both the water bottle and box of pocky into your hands. Why choose between anything, if Reo was there? He'd give you anything you wanted.

You stared at his face for a moment, and then drifted down to the peace offering in each of his hands. You clearly seemed to be considering the implications of accepting such an innocuous gift.

Again, there was that brilliance.

"I don't want anything from you, Mikage" You said slowly, with narrowed eyes.

"Of course not" Reo agreed, giddy and smiling. He liked the way you said his name. He'd have you saying his given name soon, no doubt about it. He jostled his hands again anyway. "Don't tell me you are too proud to even accept a small gift like this from a friend?"

"We're not friends" Came your immediate response. But you took the pocky and the water anyway, warily shooting him a concerned look—like you were expecting him to take it away.

To that, Reo said nothing. Instead, he steered the conversation in another direction. "Have you found a group for Dr. Ego's research proposal yet?"

Reo knew you hadn't. The moment Dr.Ego announced the project, your face had gone grim. He watched as you had stared down at your desk with intense focus while your peers turned to one another, eagerly grouping up.

Leaving you out of the fray. No surprise there.

"No" You said, again with the wary tone. "I was going to ask if I could do it alone"

Reo laughed. "All twenty pages of it? Alone? And the presentation as well?"

"Yes."

"On top of all of our other coursework?"

Here, you paused. "If that's what it'll take, then yes"

"I admire your boldness" He said truthfully, swiping his card for a cold lemon tea. "But Dr.Ego won't allow it...unless you want to be ridiculed in front of the entire class?"

You were gripping onto your water bottle so hard your knuckles were turning white. "I think I can handle myself just–"

"Seishiro and I are looking for a third" Reo knew the double entendre was not lost on you. "Of course, we don't need the extra weight dragging us down. But you're far from that. You could actually keep up with us"

Your brows jumped to your forehead...and for someone so cautious, you had the cutest habit of wearing your expressions openly.

Again, you looked at him warily. "Okay" You said stiffly, eyes darting between Reo and Seishiro just once. A familiar grimace darkened your features. You breathed so softly he didn't hear it, just the slightest rise and fall of your chest. "I look forward to working with you"

Reo waved the words away, grinning. "Pleasure's all mine"

In theory, the research proposal project was simple. Take a concept discussed in class and build something experimental around it.

In reality, the research proposal project was hell.

A twenty page paper. A ten minute (minimum) presentation which must be defended against Dr.Ego himself—who wouldn't spare a student even if they suddenly caught on fire right in his classroom.

On any other day, Reo isn't all that fond of Dr.Ego. The man has a stroke of insanity hiding behind those blunt bangs that can't be beaten back with money.

His professor is concerned with one thing only : his research, which was funded by the school. The only thing second to his research was training a bunch of mindless students to be just like him.

But. Reo would be a fool not to see just how big of an opportunity this project is. Seishiro does too, considering he's actually alert and awake when you stroll into the reserved library room five minutes later than the agreed time.

His treasure's eyes don't leave your body once, tracking you like an old hunting dog as you drop your bag into the empty chair beside you with an annoyed grunt.

"Sorry for being late" You murmur

"Why?"

Your head snaps up to the sound of Seishiro's voice. Clearly, you weren't expecting him to speak anytime soon. "Huh?"

"Why were you late?" Seishiro intones, dry voice colored with a hint of something that has you going still, eyes darting between the two of them.

"I...have a part time job" You explain, and Reo catches the hesitant way your lips part around the words. Like you're expecting one of them to make a pointed jab about it. "I wrap up there, go to my dorm and then head here"

"We could have pushed back the agreed time" Reo offers, who is noticeably no longer irritated at your lateness.

The things you can get away with, and you have no idea.

"I have a busy schedule" Is your reply, which Reo might have expected, considering how rare it is to see you outside of class. "This is the only time that works for me. I won't be late again, let's get started now"

Seishiro, for a moment, looks as though he wants to press the issue further. But his treasure does not, and instead hums noncommittally.

Reo takes the reins. "So, does anyone have any broad ideas they'd like to share?" It's obvious that he's speaking to you, and you only—considering he and his treasure always move on the same wavelength.

Silence. Your eyes drift from Reo's to Seishiro's and then back down to your own spread notebook. "Well. I enjoyed the time we spent in class learning about ego. I've...overheard some of our other classmates discussing their own topics and that wasn't a common choice"

Building an experiment around the human ego was difficult, which might be the reason why virtually no one had picked it. And his classmates aren't the most driven people. In some regards, he and his treasure can be considered the same. Why go above and beyond, when they could just write off a check and achieve those same results?

"He'll be impressed" Seishiro mutters, hair flopping into his silver eyes. "If we manage to do it, and well"

But what about the human ego, and identity, could they explore that hadn't already been explored already; through countless decades of research?

Reo thought on it for a moment. He regarded you with an openly curious look. You met his stare openly, if not a little cautious.

"Why did you decide to come here?" He asked, which he could tell wasn't what you expected. "To Hakuho?"

"Why...did I accept the invitation of the greatest school in Japan?" You repeated, as though Reo were simple.

It made him laugh. "Who determines what it means to be the best? The cost in tuition? The level of education of the professors who teach here? The pedigree of the students? What really makes us Hakuho kids greater than the vermin at the nearest public university?"

"Our egos" You supplied, understanding dawning on your face. "So we need a situational experiment that...tests what makes us believe in truly being 'the best'?"

God, it was like you understood what he wanted without even having to nudge you in the right direction. A wide grin spread against his face as he sank his fingers into his treasure's hair, snowy white strand's sliding through like silk.

"Let's use soccer" Seishiro mumbled, tilting his head so that Reo's fingers could slide against that made him all boneless. If his treasure was bothered by the curious way you looked between he and Reo, he didn't show it. His eyes flickered open. "Hey. You play soccer right? Reo and I have been obsessed with it lately"

"I...I mean I played in the little leagues when I was a kid" You offered, shrugging, shaking yourself out of your stupor. "But that's about it. I don't even remember the rules all that well"

"It's okay" Seishiro said, as though forgiving you for a large misgiving. "Reo's the best. He'll teach you the ropes"

"That's okay, I'm actually not inte—"

"So. Soccer" Reo interjected. "We can explore what it means to be the best striker. Involve bits of sports psychology, group dynamics. What do you think?"

Again, if the weird push and pull between the two confused you, you didn't show it.

"Developmental psychology might be worth looking into as well" You murmured, already typing on your laptop. "Of course...we'll have to discuss the history of soccer in Japan as well, for the literature review portion. I think Dr. Ego will be pleased"

The three of you discuss the project for what feels like an hour and a half. As you edge closer and closer to the end of the allotted time—the project is the last thing on either Reo or Seishiro's mind. It doesn't seem to be particularly fascinating to you either, if the way your eyes keep jumping to the clock on the wall just behind his treasure's head.

It's clear that you want to leave, but are unsure of how to broach the subject of maybe including some of this for next time.

But after the third off topic question Seishiro' asked, you finally seem to snap. "If we continue to discuss my private life instead of the project, I'm going to leave"

"Are you?" Reo asks, which throws you completely off your tirade. "What sort of things are you getting up to, that you can't even share amongst friends? Are you being naughty?"

"I–what." You stammer, before rerouting, choosing not to jump to the bait. "Actually, it's just about time for us to leave anyway. I have other homework to do if I don't want to fall behind"

"That's fair" He mollifies, which seems to surprise you as well. "Why don't we schedule our next meeting? This isn't due until the end of the semester. We have plenty of time"

Your brows furrow. "How about two weeks from now? Same time and place?"

"You don't want to meet somewhere more comfortable?" Reo inquires "Like your dorm room?"

Your face flushes with heat, and you shove your things into your bag. The strap is beginning to fray. He'll have to buy you a new one. "Why would we meet there?"

Seishiro is content to be silent, resting his head on Reo's shoulder, lips entirely too close to his neck to be innocent. "You could come to ours if that's better"

He says it in such a tone that's impossible to discern whether or not he's joking.

Before you can really blow your lid, Reo laughs.

"We're only kidding" Reo teases, only he isn't and Seishiro isn't, either.

But you don't have to know that now.

Life continued. He and his treasure hoarded what time they could with you. But you wouldn't budge. Wouldn't give them anything more than what you deemed strictly necessary. You seemed intentional on keep your relationship with Hakuho's gem and genius, strictly professional.

In fact, the more they push, the farther you pull away.

Your popularity since teaming up with him and his treasure seems to have sky rocketed. Now, Reo can't seem to catch you alone. Not without some begging hound nipping at your heels, desperate for scraps.

What is it like, to be chosen by Reo and Seishiro, they ask. To be important. Special.

It's just a group project, you always tell them. The audacity. There's nothing going on.

And therein lies the problem.

You see, this current arrangement you have isn't working for Reo. And it isn't working for Seishiro, either. You aren't seeming to get the memo of who it is you belong to.

It's starting to drive Reo insane. Watching you sit with other people. Watching you hang out with them. Always watching, because you won't let either of them get within ten feet of you if it isn't for Dr.Ego's stupid project.

"I see you're struggling with macroeconomics" Reo had started conversationally, coming up on your side as you stare down at your textbook as though its personally hurt you.

You look up. For a moment, a hint of surprise flashes across your features. Rare for him to be without Seishiro, he knows.

"I'm fine, thank you" You tell him, even though it's obvious that you aren't. "I actually joined a study group. I just want to see if I can get a heads up"

Reo's brow twitches. Why are you so frustrating? Why won't you just give in? If it had been anyone else, they would have killed to be in the position you're in now : receiving tutoring offers from Reo Mikage.

"I heard as much" He says, plastering a smile onto his face. He only realizes his mistake, revealing that he knows entirely too much, when your face screws into one of confusion. "With that no good Isagi, right?"

"What wrong with Isagi?" You ask, almost snapping the words. Horrifyingly, it dawns on him. You're protective. Over the Isagi brat. No fucking way.

There a hundred things wrong with Isagi. Not even to mention that whole stint freshmen year when Isagi had nearly stolen Seishiro away from him for good. Reo would have a harder time finding something right about him.

"He isn't someone anyone should want to be tutored by, is all" He offers, which is about as diplomatic on the subject of Isagi as he can be without throwing up. "It's not like he makes top of the leaderboard when it comes to these things. Being around him is a waste of time" Not like me. Not like Seishiro.

You catch the words for what they are. At least, Reo thinks you have, if not for the scathing way you had responded.

"I see more in people besides how they can be of use to me"

Reo's struct a nerve somewhere. He just doesn't know where. Your walls come up, and he has no idea how he's meant to climb them. He's never messed up this badly with someone before.

"Of course not—"

"Thank you, Reo" You interject, and then force your eyes back down to your workbook. "But I think I can work it out on my own. If I can't, I'm sure Isagi and I can struggle together. Since most people seem to think we're both not worth the effort anyway"

"I think you misunderstood—"

"I'm sure I haven't" Your hand slides between the pages of your book. Your chest heaves with exertion. "People like you—so high up they can't even see the people below...they really infuriate me. I don't even think you really realize how...how egotistical you sound. Isagi doesn't want anything from me other than my friendship"

And so, seething, Reo was forced back to his treasure's dorm room—tail between his legs. And he must have looked just as awful as he felt. Because Seishiro had taken one good look at him and pulled him down into the bed to fool around without a word.

They usually try to fuck it out of their systems, the complicated, twisted feelings they have for you—but it isn't working. Not anymore.

They fuck when neither of them can sleep. They fuck when they're angry, or tense. They fuck when they're bored. When they miss you. It works, for a little while. Then it gets less and less receptive and more desperate. So they keep fucking.

Reo shoves Seishiro into an empty classroom or bathroom stall (and on a couple of desperate occasions, into a janitors closet), getting a hand around his treasures cock, muttering, she'll come around baby, okay? Don't worry; she'll see reason. And Seishiro whines into his neck, kissing and worrying the skin with his teeth until he comes so hard he fucking screams.

Reo doesn't want to do anything drastic. Some problems can be solved with force. Others need to be eased in the right direction. Reo typically goes with the latter. Less fuss and objection, that way. Trying to force something that needs to be coaxed won't get the job done any faster. It just makes a mess.

But now Reo's starting to believe you need a rougher hand. A firmer push in the right direction. Because he's tried being gentle. He's tried coaxing. He's tried forcing your hand. Nothing seems to sway you.

Reo just needs to push a little harder. That's all. He's sure you can handle it.

In the end, it isn't hard for Seishiro to swipe your laptop. Not when you're constantly surrounded by cronies now. But Reo makes sure they keep it locked away for a day or two. Just to make sure you really miss it.

"Are you looking for something?" Reo asks, one hand curled around his backpack strap, the other around Seishiro's wrist.

The three of you haven't spoken since you blew up on him four days ago in the student lounge. But Reo knows that you know he isn't as innocent as he appears.

You're smart enough not to call him out on it either. Hanging around Isagi must have finally taught you some tack. It's a shame. Reo preferred you beforehand.

"My laptop." You say thinly, lips pursed and expression flat. "I think someone might have stolen it"

Seishiro hums, hooking his chin over Reo's shoulder, peering down at you with hooded basil colored eyes.

"That's not good" Seishiro says, tone flat. "Most of our work is done digitally. Your grade will really plummet without it"

"Yes." You intone, brow twitching. Like you can't tell if Seishiro's making fun of you or not. "Have you seen it? Either of you?"

You don't expect them to answer. Reo turns his head, just so, roves his eyes over his treasure's immaculate features.

"It's an ancient looking thing, isn't it?" He asks, turning back to face you. "Navy blue. HP? I think I found one of them by the dorms"

"It's mine" You breathe a sigh of relief. "If you found it; why didn't you turn it in to the lost and found?"

"No one goes to the lost and found" Seishiro replies, stifling a yawn against the back of Reo's neck. It's true. No one would be caught dead trying to get something back from the lost and found. Not when they can just buy a new one.

A beat passes. Then another. Finally, you cave.

"Do you...still have it?"

"I think so" He says, and pretends to consider it for a moment, drawing it out. "Treasure, you left it on the charger, didn't you?"

"Yes, boss" Seishiro affirms, nuzzling against him sleepily. You watch the ongoing affection with the amount of caution someone would stumbling upon a bear.

Reo knows he's got you, hook, line and sinker. You can't afford a new laptop. And it's not like you can continue using the desktop computers in the library forever. You know this.

"Great. Thanks." You stand, shoving your things into your backpack, brows furrowed. "Maybe I could meet you before Dr.Ego's class tomorrow and get it back?"

Seishiro sucks his teeth. "Can't"

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I have a sudden taste for the Swiss Alps" Reo tells you, and jostles his treasure's wrist for emphasis. "So I'm taking him skiing. Switzerland is beautiful this time of year, you know? We won't be back until next week"

"But I can't wait until next week" You rush, too panicked to save face.

"You could always come get it tonight" Reo offers, and slides his hand into his pants pocket, bag strap digging into his shoulder. Your face falls. "Unless you have other plans?"

"No...no" You mumble, which is a lie. He knows you had plans with Isagi. Again. You even manage to look genuinely crestfallen. "I can move some things around?"

"Sounds like it's for the best" He comforts, clicking his tongue. "Well, we need to head back now. Someone decided to wait until last minute to tell me they hadn't packed a single bag. So we're in a bit of a rush. Just swing by any time after seven, alright?"

You don't say anything for a beat. You glance between Seishiro and Reo. Maybe you're starting to feel guilty for the way you treated him that day. Maybe you're starting to see how good they are. How trustworthy.

Maybe you're starting to realize you made a mistake choosing Isagi over them. So many maybes. But it doesn't change the fact that punishment is due and your behavior is in need of correction.

Flunitrazepam is a handy drug. Inconspicuous. You won't see it. Won't even taste it. Reo had mixed it into your water glass while Seishiro distracted you with innate, small, one-sided conversation.

You're itching to get out. It's obvious by the way you hum, foot tapping a mile a minute against their floors. Anxiously, you gulp down the water. Chilled, just the way Reo knows you like it.

"So, uhm..." You start, drumming your fingers on the island bar. Your eyes glance around. "I thought you said you were in the middle of packing?"

Reo jerks his thumb towards the attached bedroom. They don't actually need it, and use it as a spare room and closet. There aren't any suitcases in there either, but you don't need to know that. Rohypnol. Smaller than a dime. White in color.

He just needs to wait a handful more minutes for it to kick in. He didn't give you that much. No fun in playing with something lifeless and damn near unconscious.

"Uhm..." You start again, already sounding winded and out of it. "You said you had my laptop?" Your eyes dart to the exit. Reo wonders if he's imagining the sweat beading along your brow.

"Right! Of course" Reo says, and meets Seishiro's eyes. His treasure skulks off towards the bedroom, sweatpants slung sinfully low down his hips. Reo would be willing to bet his entire Mikage fortune that Seishiro isn't wearing underwear.

That particular roofie drug goes by a lot more common man names. Larocha. Roches. Ro-shay. Reo's particular favorite is the Run-Trip-And-Fall. Which is exactly what you do the moment you get that laptop back into your hands.

"You need to be careful" Reo chides, picking your laptop up from the ground. He passes by Seishiro when he places it onto the bar.

"You don't look so good" Seishiro adds, crouching in front of you. "Are you alright?"

"No" You garble weakly, missing the calculated gaze in Seishiro's eye. "I feel weird"

"Yeah?" Reo parrots, and you should be used to this by now. The way he and Seishiro pass you back and forth in conversation. "Feel funny, sweetheart?"

Clumsily, you nod. You try to stand again, collapsing against Seishiro's front on shaky legs. Like a little lamb.

"Wha's wrong...with me?" You mumble, fist white-knuckling his treasure's shirt. Seishiro doesn't say a word, just stares down at you in awe at the fearful lilt to your words.

Sweat trickles down the back of your neck. Seishiro is the first of them to speak. But he isn't acknowledging you. His gaze searches Reo's face.

"Can I?" He asks, plainly

Benevolent, Reo inclines his head in your direction. Nodding with a bemused smile. "Go right ahead. She's yours too"

Seishiro barely even lets the first word out before he darts forward and claims a kiss from your slack mouth. You startle, whimpering in confusion. You try to fight him off for a moment; but you're too uncoordinated.

Reo slips in behind you. "Let me help you" he murmurs in your ear, slipping your thin parka off of your shoulders. "That's better, isn't it? Not so hot anymore?"

As if obeying, your body shivers. Seishiro pulls back enough to let you breathe. Drool spills over your bottom lip. His treasure pads it away with his thumb, licking it away. You cringe.

"I want to go home" You mutter, trying to push him—either of them—away. When neither of them budge, the real panic sets in. Your brows furrow. Your hands slam against Seishiro's chest. But you might as well be hitting him with a feather duster.

Like two cogs in a machine, he and his treasure drag you off into the bedroom, kicking and flailing. Reo coos into your ear, tries to get you to calm down. What he can't accomplish, the Run-Trip-And-Fall certainly makes up for it.

You whimper as Reo's fingers unbutton your jeans. Seishiro distracts you with more kisses, though you hear your treasure hiss out in pain. Reo's head darts up from between your thighs, brow raised, confused.

"She scratched me" Seishiro murmurs petulantly

"Now thats not nice" Reo says, kissing his way up your body. His gaze bores into yours. Drugged just enough to make you pliant, but enough to feel everything else. "Do we need to tie you up, sweetheart?"

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip. You don't say anything for a minute. When it becomes clear to Reo that you won't answer him at all, he sighs.

"Don't be like that" Seishiro sighs wistfully against your throat, caging your body between his and Reo.

Reo's fingers skirt up around your bellybutton. "I'll level with you, baby. You misbehave, we tie you up. I don't want to tie you up. Sei, do you want to tie our pretty baby up, restrict all of her movements?"

Seishiro whines in dissent. "Sounds like a hassle" he says.

"See?" Reo points, fingers sinking into yours cheeks and wrenching your head back to meet his eyes. "If we tie you up for being naughty, I've gotta give Sei something real special for going through such a hassle to keep fucking you."

He brandishes a small golden foil wrapper before your eyes and watches with glee as the Run-Trip-And-Fall weakens in the face of your utter dread at what he's implying.

Be good. Or the condom comes off.

"Now" Reo starts once more, kissing your throat, marking you up real pretty, letting you squirm against him. "Are you gonna behave for us, pretty baby?"

Jerkily, your head bobbles in a nod. Up. And then down. Reo can't help but coo. That probably took what little strength and bodily autonomy you had.

"Jus...please" You warble pathetically. Some sardonic part of him whispers, not so much better than the rest of us now; are you? Honestly—the things they let you get away with. Even Seishiro, who hates fuss, indulges your pathetic whimpers with a half smile, laving at your nipples until they peak. "Please keep it on, please..."

"We promised, didn't we sweetheart?" Reo shushes, kissing the wrinkle away from your forehead. "Just keep being good and we won't do anything reckless, alright?"

Of course, Reo has no intention of keeping that condom on. And one quick glance up at his treasure confirms much of the same.

But you don't need to know that.

Your mother dug underneath the sink cabinets for the shoddy first aid kit, directing you to sit on the toilet seat. "How many times have I told you to leave those mean old dogs alone?"

"They've never bitten me before" Was your response, hissing through your teeth―the sound tapering off into a low whine as the alcohol made contact with the open wound.

It was the large black and white one. Though the white of its fur was so dirty it looked more gray than anything else. You had nicknamed the old hound Shadow, because it seemed to have an odd habit of slinking around at night―creeping through the shadows like he was apart of them.

"All dogs can bite, honey" Your mother said, pressing her lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss.

"Not Shadow" Was your soft protest, blinking away tears. You don't know how it happened. You've known Shadow the longest. Fond of following behind him as he took you through the city. And he never once seemed to mind being accompanied by a tottering child.

Your mother regarded you with a critical eye. It was awesome, having a nurse for a mom. Even if she was always gone, you knew she was off saving peoples lives everyday. Yours too. She always helped with your booboos and scratches and even gave you a lollipop after each one. Just as the doctor would. She handed you one now, butterscotch flavored as her mind seemed to wander.

A pit of anxiety formed at the bottom of your stomach. You knew what they did to dogs who bit people. And you didn't want anything bad to happen to Shadow.

"Mom. Don't let them put him down. Please don't" You pleaded suddenly, pulling on her arm with the hand of your uninjured arm. You knew Shadow didn't mean to do it. He was just...you don't know, exactly. But he wouldn't do it to you again. You would just need to be more careful around him. Not provoke him as much.

"You could have gotten real sick" Your mother began, crossing her arms and staring at you impassively. "Rabies is deadly, baby. You know I just want to keep you safe"

"I don't have rabies" You mumbled, staring down at your feet. "I'm fine. Please don't hurt Shadow"

Your mother did not bother to deign that with a response. You could feel her looking you over for a handful of moments. And then she left, as simple as that.

You had no idea why you thought of that moment, suddenly. Perhaps it had to do with Megumi sitting at your dining room table―just barely refraining from shoving food into his mouth.

"Is it good?" You asked, sitting beside him, teasing tone of voice.

Megumi looked up, only for a second or two, before going back to his food. "You know it is"

He was a stray. Megumi, you mean. Drifting in and out of your life. The visits got more sporadic around high school, when your best friend Tsumiki, fell into her coma. It seems that just when you think Megumi won't visit anymore, he shows up to darken your doorstep. You don't really understand why he does it. He knows he's welcome anytime. Your mom practically raised you both since his guardian was rarely in the picture.

You prop your cheek onto your palm, elbow pressed against the table. You do not bother to hide the fact that you're staring. Comparing the man you see to the teen you remember seeing a year, maybe two, back. A habit you've picked up from Megumi himself, ironically―who you often catch staring back.

"What happened here?" You ask softly, gently tapping a scar on the side of his jaw. You suck your teeth. "Looks like it hurt"

Megumi regards you with a look, like he's debating on whether or not to share it with you. "Training. With Gojo"

"Training? What for?" You ask, quirking a brow. "I thought you had bodyguards"

"Do you seem them around anywhere?" Is the soft reply, eyes drifting back down to his empty plate. He looks almost forlorn, pouty. Like he can't believe he finished it all that quickly. "Is there anymore?"

"You brat" You mumble fondly, tousling his hair. "I'm older than you. You should respect me."

"I do respect you" Megumi argues, flushing. "Is there anymore?" He repeats, more impatient. It seems wherever he's been these past two years hasn't done anything for his shit manners.

"Nope. The rest is for Shigeo" You chirp.

"Shigeo?"

"My boyfriend" You inform him cheerily. Megumi doesn't say anything for a long while. Lifts those sullen deep blue eyes and stares at you. "What?"

"Nothing" Is the reply, mouth twisting into a frown. Absolutely not 'nothing'. "You should dump him. He's not good enough for you"

You make an undignified sound, pushing at him playfully. He doesn't even budge. "What! You haven't even met him yet. You can't say that"

"Say what? Who are you talking to?" Is Shigeo's reply, rounding the corner in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. His eyes seem to skip over you entirely, landing on Megumi. You've always thought he had pretty eyes. Dark brown, almost black. Really pretty in the sunlight. They widen now―staring at your stray with caution that borders on fear.

Strange.

"This is Megumi!" You chirp, planting a kiss onto his cheek. You expect him to grumble, or push you away. Megumi hates it when you 'baby him'. But he does not. If anything, he leans into it. "I told you about him, remember?"

Megumi's eyes shift up towards Shigeo. Staring. He's just as protective over you as you are of him. Except Megumi is a lot more intimidating to other people.

"You said he was a 'cute kid'" Is the muttered reply from Shigeo, and tension falls over the room.

"I am cute" Megumi says, who has never really appreciated people talking about him as if he weren't there. His arm loops around your waist and he tugs you in close. You're surprised when moments later, you feel Megumi's lips against your cheek, a smidge too close to your mouth. "Not a kid, though"

Shigeo's eyes dart down to your cheek. You can tell he isn't happy, either. What on Earth is happening right now?

A nervous laugh bubbles out of you, desperate to smooth...whatever this is, over. But before you can say anything, Megumi is beating you to it.

"Can I stay for a few days?" He asks "I want to visit Tsumiki. And your mom, too. She's been sending me passive aggressive texts lately. If I don't show up she might track me down"

You don't know why he asks. Megumi should know he's welcome anytime. You always have room for him. "The guest room is yours. Stay as long as you need."

You stand, taking Megumi's plate and your own as well to the sink. Shigeo's eyes land on you―burning like a laser. "And she wouldn't send you so many messages if you just came around more" You don't both to mask the hurt in your voice.

Seconds later, Megumi is at your side. You stand shoulder to shoulder. This is the closeness you crave. The dishes are pulled from your hands. Megumi stares. And stares. And stares. "Let's visit Tsumiki today, and your mom tomorrow. The third day will be for just us"

"I have work" You grumble.

"Don't I always pay for everything when I'm here?" Megumi asks, leveling you flat with the depth of his gaze. "Why are you bringing that up now?"

"Well, forgive me, it has been two years so my mind is little fuzzy on the details" You snap, snatching the plate back.

Megumi tsks at you, murmuring, Who's acting like a brat now? before tugging you into a hug. You try to fight it, but Megumi's strength always manages to catch you by surprise. No matter how many years you've spent roughhousing with him, and it's more clear at times like these, that you only win because he lets you.

His chin hooks over your shoulder, arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you in tight. Shigeo's still standing there, and you only realize that he is because there's a third set of footprints when there should only be two.

The thought makes you feel guilty immediately for thinking it.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you" Megumi whispers into your ear. "I'll explain it to you someday. Just let me stay here for three days―"

"A week." You demand, holding him just as tight. Like you'll stop breathing entirely if he lets you go. "You better stay for a whole week. Or I'll never forgive you. Ever" A lie. He knows you're lying. You'd forgiven him the moment you opened the door and saw him standing there.

There's a chuff of laughter in your ear. Megumi's hand strokes down your back. "Okay. Whatever you want"

It's a promise Megumi can't keep. You know that, you're sure he knows it too. He's never stayed for that long before. He's in for a day, two or three at most. And then he's gone again. A note on the table next to a stack of crisp bills. And things aren't like they were when you were both in high school. You remember being in such a rush to grow up, to be an adult, independent and free. What you would give, to have things be so simple again.

Shigero corners you back on your way from the bathroom. There's a towel wrapped around your body, but it does little to combat the chill from the air, even though you dried off from the shower in your bathroom.

"I don't like him" Shigeo mutters, watching as you get dressed. "I don't want you around him"

That makes you pause, glancing at his reflection from your vanity mirror. "...why?"

"Why?" Shigeo repeats, incredulous, like you're the one being unreasonable. His brows jump to his forehead, and there's a crease, right in the middle. You want to smooth it out with your thumb. "He's too close to you"

"I've known Megumi since he was eight." You tell him, like you've told him a thousand times already. Shigeo's arms cross over his chest, unimpressed. "What? You seriously want me to go in there and tell him to just go back to wherever it is he came from?"

The flat look on your boyfriends face is the obvious answer.

Disgust crawls up your throat. You would never. "...I'm all he has left. I promised Tsumiki I would take care of him. I can't just―I'm not going to just abandon him."

"Fine." Is all Shigeo says, after a long while. "Tell your mom I said hello"

You raise your brows in surprise. "You aren't coming?"

"Some of us can't just call out of work" Shigeo says pointedly and to that, you say nothing.

When Megumi was 16, Tsumiki fell into a coma. The details around that time are fuzzy―moreso because you don't want to remember more than you have to, rather than some failure of your memory itself.

You remember the exact day it happened. Where you were (home; in the kitchen), what you were doing (helping your mom with dinner), what you wore (one of Tsumiki's faded shirts―abandoned after some sleepover a few years back and shorts).

It was strange, because Megumi called. At that age, you supposed it was normal for kids to change from the sweetness of youth to some false, nonchalant thing where it was suddenly embarrassing to show emotion. Megumi never called, is the point. He texted, maybe, but he never called.

Not that it mattered much to you. You saw enough of Megumi in person for that not to matter. Nearly everyday, Tsumiki was at your house―dragging her little brother along with her. He liked to hole up in the dining room and do his homework, or sometimes he wouldn't show up at all. A lot of time, Megumi was suspended. Too much fighting. It was a miracle that he hadn't been expelled.

Once, she said the estate where they lived at with Gojo was too big, too empty. You never pried. It wasn't your place to. Clearly they had no parents and this Gojo figure popped in and out, but gave them a much nicer place to stay. Even now, you don't know the full story of how the Fushiguro siblings came to be in Gojo-san's care, but you've met the man yourself a scant number of times. He rubs you the wrong way.

"Have you visited her? Since you've been gone?" You ask, standing shoulder to shoulder with Megumi once more. There's a bouquet of store-bought flowers in your hand. There's one in Megumi's as well.

"No" Is the reply, and you figured he hadn't. His eyes won't even look down at her headstone.

It had taken months for you to even get the courage to do that.

"Couldn't go without you" He says, looking at you. His eyes are rimmed red with unshed tears. You know you aren't faring much better. "I was scared"

His words pull a sound of sympathy from you. Tsumiki had been in a coma for two years. You and Megumi visited her often. She was your best friend. She knew you better than anyone else. And suddenly she was ripped away from you. In an instant, half of you was missing.

Strange, because the day he called, the two of you had made plans to drag Megumi off to the fair. The two of you had been up the whole night, chatting about the food you would eat and how best to corner him into getting matching face paint. You don't remember if you cancelled the tickets or not. You don't remember anything, except crying a lot.

Your hand closes around his wrist. "There's nothing to be scared of Megumi. It's just Tsumiki"

His hand moves down, and curls tightly around your own. With a wince, you break free―twining your fingers together instead. Even when the two of you visited her in the hospital, Megumi rarely looked at Tsumiki. He stood off to the side, or sat in one of the chairs, and listened to you recount whatever had happened in your life. You always suspected that he visited her often on his own, but, again, you never thought it right to ask.

"I can't" He breathed quietly, defeated. His eyes looked to you, imploringly. "I can't"

Quietly, you shush him. You step closer, gathering both bouquets in a single hand. The last time you had visited Tsumiki had been a month ago. The flowers you left there had long since wilted. But there were no remains. Maybe the wind had blown away the stems. Maybe there was a groundskeeper or something, who threw them away. Hopefully, if there was one, they had spared a few minutes at her grave.

Megumi's face pushes its way into your neck. A few moments later, the tears come. Soft, at first, then hiccups and sobs. He's malleable like this, and you manage to get him on the ground. The bone of his chin digs into your shoulder almost painfully. You've got your arms around him, holding him close.

The flowers are taken from your fingers. Megumi has to pry them away, and you don't realize how tight a grip you have on the stems until he does.

"Hi, 'Miki" Megumi says, voice clogged wet with tears. "Sorry. For not visiting. And for being such a shit little brother. I should've been better"

"Hey, no, don't say that" You mumble through tears of your own. You pull back from the hug, staring at him. "I should hit you for saying something like that. Tsumiki would have done it"

A laugh. There's little mirth in it. "She would've thrown the flowers at me, instead"

You join him. There isn't much joy in your laugh either. "Yeah. She wouldn't have missed, either"

"You're going to be just fine" You tell him, much later, back at the house. Visiting Tsumiki always zaps your energy. Leaves you depleted and exhausted. Shigeo never knows how to really help, when you get like this. Never knows what to do in the random boughts of depression you get around her birthday, or the anniversary of her death. You haven't been together long enough for him to learn you that way.

Megumi's curled protectively around you. This time, you aren't alone. Down in your bones you know that Megumi just knows exactly what you need. You're all he's got left, and you know he's learned you like the back of his hand because of it.

But Megumi's exhausted too. He's sluggish, craning down slow to kiss your nose. And again on your cheek, where he kissed you this morning. His hand finds yours. "I'll be better. I promise."

Your face scrunches into one of confusion. "You don't have to be"

A hum.

"I have to. You're replacing me, apparently" He says, squeezing you tight, voice murmured and tinged with exhaustion―yet alert. Succinct and to the point, as always. Your eyes widen. His nose is cold when it prsses into your cheek. His lips hover above your mouth, blue eyes hooded, boring into you.

Panicked, you turn your face to the side. Megumi's mouth presses against the corner of your mouth instead. There's a moment of prolonged silence, heart thudding in your chest. His hand strokes up and down your back. Idly, biding his time.

You open your mouth to speak. Megumi cuts you off. His eyes rake over your face. "Is it Shigeo?"

Swallowing, you shake your head. You think of him as your little brother. You always have.

Megumi seems to see this written all over your face. "I think it is Shigeo" He says, after a minute, tucking you against his chest―despite the way you protest. He clicks his tongue at you, like you're nothing more than a fussy kitten. "Stop moving. You're tired, aren't you? Take a nap."

You are. But having to obey like this feels demeaning, in a way. You're a grown woman. And Megumi's younger than you anyway. Being coddled isn't so fun when you're on the receiving end of it. Especially when there are more pressing things you want to talk about.

"He's not good enough for you" He says, after a while. Even without looking down to check, Megumi know you aren't sleep. How many sleepless nights have you spent, just like this, tethered to each other like two ships? His lips ghost your ear. "You think I'm keeping secrets? I'm not the only one"

The sun shines overhead, though you are protected from its rays by the shade of tree. It isn't often that you go to the Gojo estate—and the sheer luxury of everything surprises you.

You've never seen a single person own so much land before. The foyer alone is bigger than most of you and your mom's apartment combined. Everything screams of generations of wealth and power. The reflections shine so brightly that you can see yourself clearly in them.

The Gojo estate makes it quite clear that you don't belong there. It creeped you out as a child and you quickly understood why Tsumiki never wanted to be there. Why she spent so many nights sleeping over at yours, instead. It scares you now. But since Tsumiki's fallen ill...it's the only place you know you can find Megumi.

He's here with you now. The grass tickles your cheek. The wind blows. And Megumi is here. Right where he should be. The place doesn't matter that much anymore—as long as he's there with you.

Even this place, a gilded cage, is nothing too scary with Megumi insisting its okay.

It's time for you to start thinking about college soon. Well, the time for that was actually at the beginning of the year. But everyone seemed to understand why school wasn't so much of a priority to you at the time.

Your hands scratch through Megumi's soft hair. He's practically boneless where his head is propped onto your stomach—phone held above his head as he taps furiously at the screen. Some sort if mobile game thats popular with the second years.

You feel like you're running out of time. Everyone had been patient in the beginning. They don't seem to understand that what you need is time. Life has moved on for them but they can't understand why it hasn't for you. It makes you feel bitter and helpless.

Tsumiki was friendly with everyone. But she'll never mean as much to you as she does to them. As a third year, you're constantly plagued with the worry that she'll never wake up. What if she wakes up and you're not there?

You wonder is Megumi thinks the same. If he does, he does an excellent job at hiding it. You can't tell who's being strong for who—you or him.

"Hey. Megumi" You say, peering down at him. He shuts off his phone and tosses it to the side and gives you all of his attention. He isn't like Tsumiki, not at all. You like that about him. "I'm thinking about college"

Megumi doesn't say anything for a while. "You're leaving?"

"Not far" You explain, laughing nervously. "I don't think I'm cut out for something like tha–"

"I think you are" He says, staring at you. You laugh nervously, pulling at the collar of your uniform shirt and look anywhere else.

When you look back, Megumi is still staring.

"But my mom is here. You're here." You pause, swallowing. "Tsumiki is here"

"Do you want me to tell you to stay?" Megumi asks, sounding annoyed. Nothing like Tsumiki at all. None of her gentleness and none of her kindness. Megumi is all sharp, jagged edges with only the occasional smooth surface.

You make an undignified noise. "I would like some emotional support! I don't know what to do"

Leaving means moving on. Staying means...just that.

"Stay or go" Megumi begins. His hand splays on your lower stomach. Your muscles twitch and buck nervously, surprisingly ticklish. "I know it won't be the last time I see you. You're like a cockroach. We're going to be together forever"

His voice is dry and flat. You can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad one.

Then you feel it ; his thumb pressing in your belly button, and his forefinger pressing lower. Too low. His forefinger drags and presses lower, considering.

What. "What are you doing?" You ask, stomach clenching at the pressure. Megumi's head turns so that his eyes are staring straight into yours. "Stop. that tickles"

"It'll fit" Is all he says, monotone as always.

"Huh?" A beat passes. "Wait a minu—did you just call me a cockroach?! You are seriously the worst, Megumi! I'm older than you. Show some respect!"

A sigh. A moment later his hand is gone completely.

"You're so weird" He says, with a huff, rolling his eyes.

"Me?" You screech, loudly, pinching the side of his neck. He makes a soft, pained noise. Good, you think. That should teach him a thing or two.

The knife cracks down on the ginger root, splitting it. Too much force used, if the way the cutting board shifts against the counters is any clue on the matter. The smell wafts up into your nose, along with the spices you've put aside.

You think I'm keeping secrets? Yes, of course he is. Again, you cut through the ginger. There's plenty Megumi isn't telling you. And you're only human. Of course you're curious about them. But he wouldn't like it if you were to going spying around behind his back. So you don't.

Whatever it is Megumi and Tsumiki went through before you met them is traumatic enough for neither of them to mention it. The closer you grew to her, the more you realized that a majority of her personality was just...fabricated. She was sweet around everyone else, cordial, kind. Easy for nearly every boy in your grade to have a crush on.

But around you―she's different. She pushes you out of the way to get first dibs on the remote. Steals sips of your juice boxes and deems it the "Best Friend Tax". Cries into your shoulder when she's screamed herself awake from nightmares. Holds your hand and tells you that you're the only real family she has, besides her sour faced brother.

Flinches sometimes, hiding close behind you, whenever someone whispers tales of the Yakuza. Some hitting too close to home, you suspected. You had asked your mom about it, once.

"Some things, baby, leave a mark on us, for a long time. Just don't bring it up if she looks uncomfortable" She told you, kissing your cheek.

Your mom started inviting the Fushiguros over a lot more after that.

"Woah!" Shigeo chuckles, crossing into the kitchen. You perk to attention at the sound of his voice. "What did I do this time?"

Your hand holding the knife pauses. "What?" You think I'm keeping secrets? I'm not the only one.

"Sweetheart" He says, swooping in and kissing your cheek. Again, on your mouth. "There's nothing left of that ginger besides a paste. Did I forget to take the trash out again?"

You stare down at the cutting board, slightly confused. But Shigeo is right. The ginger you had been dicing is nothing more than a wet mush. Your thoughts had just...ran away with you.

The day after Megumi tried to kiss you, he took you out shopping. His way of apologizing, you think. You both visited a cute cafe you mentioned wanting to try but neither you nor Shigeo ever having the time. The barista at the counter assumed you and Megumi were a couple. You tried to say otherwise, but Megumi had just kissed the side of your head and thanked her.

Neither of you had brought up what happened the day before. You, because you're terrified of where this is heading and unsure of how to stop it. And Megumi, not because he's afraid, but because you know he's allowing you the time to process. He'll force you to face whatever this is, and when he does―you know you won't have time to run or stall.

You had forgotten about it all, nearly. Until you stepped back into the apartment to Shigeo sitting on the couch, watching reruns of his favorite show. The next morning, he was gone. A small note with his new number on it, and that was all.

I'm not the only one. The words repeat in your head, over and over again. What could Shigeo possibly be hiding from you?

"Are you cheating on me?" You ask, voice solemn and serious, staring down at your chopped vegetables. You don't think its that. But.

"No" Shigeo says, immediately. Not a lie, then. "Are you?"

A look of confusion befalls you. "Why would I cheat on you?"

A noncommittal hum. He takes a seat at the dining room table and observes you as you work.

"Usually if someone asks about something as serious as cheating, it's because they're guilty" Shigeo says, carefully, eying you. You realize, with a dawning sense of horror, that is is Shigeo who doesn't believe you.

"I'm not" You repeat, stressed. Your voice sounds high and whittled. This is about Megumi, you know it is. Why is he turning this on you, all of a sudden? " I'm not. Is there...anything else?"

Shigeo makes a soft noise. Elaborate.

"Is there anything else that you're keeping from me?" You ask, looking at him from over the stove now.

There's a pregnant pause. His eyes sweep left, and then right. Subtle. He isn't even aware that he's doing it. "No. There's not."

He's lying.

He lied to you. You wonder if he knows that you know. Maybe. He sits there, silent, eyes suddenly interested into the magnets you keep on the fridge.

Dinner is a quiet, awkward, affair. Both of you poke at your food. Conversation is brief, short, stilted. You wish Megumi was there. His silence, at least, is a comfort to you. Something you're used to. You aren't used to this at all.

You met Shigeo at the grocery store. A year and a half ago.

It was in the laundry aisle. He stood there, in front of the laundry detergents―taking entirely too long to debate between them when really he should have just grabbed one and went on about his business. You huffed, annoyed, and had coughed under your breath. Trying to get him to hurry it up.

He had turned around to apologize, and both of you just stared at one another. He asked you out right there. And the rest was history, as they say. In all of the time that you've known Shigeo, he's never really been a good liar. He always...looks around. As if he's waiting for someone else to interrupt. Or for the conversation to change. And when he realizes that no one's coming, he lies.

You and Shigeo are both honest people. You don't make a habit of lying. And you don't think he does either. A soft groan passes your lips. Actually―you aren't sure of anything anymore. It's been a month. There's been no sign of Megumi. You haven't texted him and it's like the universe is making you suffer greatly for it.

The house is tense and rolling with energy. Words unsaid. Fights over petty things the two of you had never bothered to fight about before.

Everything is a thinly-veiled insult now. Shigeo constantly alludes to you cheating. With Megumi. Everything is about Megumi now. He watches you closely, like he doesn't trust you to go to the bathroom on your own or else you'll cheat on him again. You haven't cheated at all. Sometimes, you want to tell him what happened that day. When he almost kissed you. You want to tell him that you turned Megumi down, that you refused. For him.

But you don't. You're afraid that if you do, it'll give your boyfriend another reason not to trust you. That the insults and passive aggressive behavior will get worse. And if he knows that what Megumi feels towards you is some misplaced feelings, he'll use it as justification for his actions.

You can't take much more of this. It's gotten to the point where you dawdle coming home from work, as you are now. And you've never been one to do that. Always among the first to clock out when your shift at the library ends. But, lately, you don't like being there. A place that you once considered your safe haven feels the complete opposite. You suppose, no one really tells you about that, once you move in with someone. There's really nowhere to go if the two of you start fighting.

Everything becomes barbed, sharp, dangerous. Everything becomes a shouting match and ends with you crying in the shower because you're just so tired.

You pause outside of your front door, arms full with two large paper bags. You don't want to go in. But you've ran off to the grocery store every day this week. If you do it again, Shigeo will have something to say about it. Sighing, your head thunks against the door.

You nearly trip and fall, when the door swings right open. The door you swore you locked before you left.

Megumi is sitting on your couch. That's the first thing you notice. He's wearing a suit. The last time you remember Megumi wearing a suit was at Tsumiki's funeral. The suit jacket is tossed over the couch, like he's been here a while.

Megumi is not the only one in your living room.

"Sh―Shigeo?" Your voice is a quiet wobble, eyes skittering over your boyfriend's limp form. His face is a smattering of blood and bruises and his right eye is swollen. Megumi's hands are no stranger to violence, but there isn't a drop of blood on them.

Your entire living room, and parts of the kitchen too, are just completely trashed. The coffee table is turned over, shards of glass all over the floor. Books and magazines and a flurry of destruction everywhere.

There are three men present that you don't recognize. Two stand next to Shigeo, on both sides of him. The third next to the couch, on the far end.

Your boyfriend's head lifts slightly, to the sound of your voice. A beat too late. You're just relieved to see that he's alive. The bags in your arms drop to the ground and you rush over to him, breathing heavy.

"What...what did you do to him?" You ask, wheeling around to face Megumi. Your hand lands on Shigeo's shoulder. He moves, but only to flinch backwards. There are tears springing in your eyes. You reach up a hand to brush them away.

"You told me she would come home much later" Is Megumi's murmured reply, uttered not towards you, but to your boyfriend. "If you'll lie about something as minor as that, Hayashi Takeo , you'll lie about anything―won't you? Your name, your age, your occupation"

"I-I, swear" Your boyfriend slurs. Halfway through that he's starts coughing up blood. It spittles out of his mouth like a dog with rabies, clinging to his teeth and gums. "I'm not―I'm not lying. It's there. All of it"

"...Shigeo?" He doesn't answer. Fearfully, you fold your hands over your heart. When you take a step back, your foot crunches glass beneath it. You look towards the only person who you know will give you answers. "Megumi?"

His eyes snap towards you immediately. They are hard, and impassive and very angry. In all of the years you have known him, Megumi has never truly been angry with you. Miffed, annoyed. But never angry. Slowly, his eyes soften.

"I didn't want to do this here" Megumi says, voice gentle and quiet like it used to be, years ago, when he found you crying your eyes out on some random bench at the hospital. His eyes flicker down to his watch. "Let's go get some ice cream"

Dumbly, you shake your head. You step closer to Shigeo, hands bunching around the bloodied fabric of his work shirt. His body is warm with heat. "No. Y-you're gonna kill him"

"Did I tell them to kill you, Hayashi?" Megumi asks, glancing at your boyfriend with a look so cold its scathingly hot in its fury.

Shi―Takeo, shakes his head. His hair falls into his eyes, obscuring them from your view.

Megumi hums, satisfied. There's a sharp glint in his eye. You've never been more afraid in your life. "What did I tell them to do to you?"

"To teach―to teach me a lesson"

"Why?" Your heart pounds in your chest. You're crying, you think. Making soft, scared, hiccuping little noises.

"Cause I st-stole from you" Takeo slurs.

"How much?" Megumi asks, voice thin and hard. Takeo doesn't say anything. He gestures towards the man on the right, just a lift of his eyebrows and you turn away just as your boyfriend is struck across the face. You squeeze your eyes shut at the way his breath leaves him in short, gasps. The sound of his spit and blood spilling across the floor and the way he sounds when he's struck―a grunt tumbling into a groan. "How. Much?"

"A mi...million―yen" Is the response, and your heart sinks to your stomach. You gasp, taking a step back, tripping over the leg of what must have once been your coffee table. Just as you're about to topple over and fall, a hand latches onto your upper arm, keeping you upright. It's one of the men you don't recognize. No, it's one of Megumi's...lackeys? Henchmen.

One look from your childhood best friend has the hand releasing from your upper arm. You can feel him freeze up behind you, as if he's afraid.

Megumi stands, and grabs his suit jacket from the couch. "Let's go for that ice-cream now, okay?"

He isn't asking. You spare one last look at Takeo, before a click of his tongue has you scurrying forwards. Megumi's hand slithers down to twine your fingers together. He squeezes. You know you have to squeeze back. So you do. His hand is cold. The smell of his soap wafts into your nose. Even now, your body tilts into his direction, staying close.

Even now―you're comforted by his presence.

The next time Tsumiki asks you for a favor, you're going to actually listen to her before you agree. She took advantage of your daydreaming and pushed you into a stressful situation on purpose!

You're going to kill her. "Uhm. Hello. T-Tsumiki sent me. We're friends from school. I have Megumi's homework?"

You had known that Tsumiki was rich. Everyone did. A few of your classmates had even claimed to have seen her house once or twice. But their accounts never lined up, so you just assumed they were rumors.

"Let her in" Says the bodyguard on the right. They wore black suits, even in the sun, and didn't seem to sweat at all. Your mind still spins over the sheer notion that Tsumiki's house has bodyguards. Not one, not two. But a lot of them, stationed around the property. Even though there's a fancy gate which would keep out even the most determined trespassers. "I recognize this one"

Your face morphs into one of confusion. You've never seen this man a day in your life. But you don't want to say anything. The men step aside. Another bodyguard comes, seemingly from thin air, and begins to march you towards the main building.

There are a lot of other, smaller buildings, littered about. Everything is done in the traditional Japanese style. It looks like something from a history book. You wonder just how old this place is. Everyone you've seen as you pass by is dressed impeccably, which makes you feel underdressed.

"The young master is inside" Says the man suddenly, pointing towards a set of doors. Before you can even open your mouth to thank him for the assistance, he's turning around and leaving.

Megumi is sitting on one of the couches, watching TV. He doesn't turn when the door opens.

You skip over to him, merry grin on your face, peering over the back of the couch. Then think better of it at the last second and stand straight again. This isn't your house, maybe there's a rule about hanging on the back of couches that you don't know about. "Hi! Tsumiki made me bring you all of the work you missed from your classes because you got suspended―"

Oh. He looks terrible.

"Fighting again?" You ask quietly, words dying in your throat whenever he turns to face you. There's a smattering of bruises on his face, a cut that had probably been bleeding, before. It looks like it hurts. "Megumi―I thought you said you would stop fighti―"

"They started it" Megumi bites out, eyeing you warily when you sit down beside him on the couch.

"What did they say this time?" You ask with a roll of your eyes. Megumi isn't exactly known for his everlasting patience and serenity. Even though you've been friends with Tsumiki (and Megumi because the two of them are a package deal) for years, you still mess up yourself from time to time. "Sorry, but teasing you for being rich isn't exactly a good enough excuse to―"

"They were talking shit about Tsumiki" He says, and your mouth clamps shut.

"Well...I can't exactly blame you for that now" You say sheepishly, with a grin, clapping him on the shoulder. "Good job for defending your sister!"

"What happened to 'talking through my problems'?" Your eyebrow twitches. Seriously, how can a mere middle-schooler have so much attitude. You were never like him at your age!

"Anyone who talks badly about Tsumiki deserves it" You tell him, putting your hands onto your knees. "Besides. She's your family. You two only have each other. You protect her and she protects you. Just like me and mom"

No one talks badly about your mom. But if she were, you'd like to think you were strong enough to beat them all up.

Megumi is silent for a minute. "I don't just have Tsumiki. Anymore"

Tears well up in your eyes. You know that the second one falls, Megumi's going to be out of there. He's allergic to showing affection, you think. So you sniffle instead. Megumi groans and predictably begins moving away.

"Well!" You snap at him, faux annoyed. "It's just my allergies! I'm allergic to uhm...to uhm...to dust! You should fire your housekeeper. What if I die on the spot from the severity?"

"You can't die from dust allergies" Megumi says drily "What are they even teaching you?"

"You can so too!" You protest, uncaring of how childish you sound. To be honest, you aren't even sure if that's possible. But no way are you letting him think that he's right. A series of exaggerated coughs and fake sneezes follow, hammering in your point. "My mom's a nurse. So I'm pretty sure I know more than you, you brat!"

"I take it back" Megumi grouses "You are so annoying. No―get off of me, I don't want a hug"

"Why are you sitting so far away?" Megumi asks, eyeing you carefully. You sit on the far end of the park bench, a loose cardigan around your shoulders to combat the chill. "I'm not going to hurt you"

"You hurt Shigeo" You say, staring down into your ice cream.

Megumi makes a disgruntled sound. "Takeo. The man I hurt was Takeo. He's been lying to you your entire relationship and you're still defending him?"

The words make you flinch. "You've been lying to me too...why―I don't understand"

Why Megumi would do something like that. He isn't the nicest guy around, and he stopped getting into fights when he transitioned into highschool so why...why is he―

"Gojo. The man who took Tsumiki and I in, he's the head of the Gojo clan, which is currently the most powerful family in the Yakuza" He says. Casually. Like he's telling you about the weather and not that he's affiliated with the-.

"The Yakuza?!" You screech loudly, but one sharp look from him has you quieting your tone. "Megumi, those guys are seriously bad news. Whatever it is he's offering you isn't good enough! You have to...quit or something!"

A snort. "You don't just up and quit working that kind of life. My real father was apart of the Yakuza too. A different syndicate though, and a real problem for Gojo. But for some reason, he didn't kill us after he murdered my dad. He took us in"

For lack of nothing better to do, you shovel a spoonful of ice-cream into your mouth.

"Either way, my fate was sealed since birth" Megumi continued. "I was going to be in the Yakuza. Just...didn't think I'd be doing it as Gojo's second. He offered me a choice. Said that once I was in, it would be impossible to get out. Tsumiki wanted no part in it. Neither did I but then..."

This part is hard for him to say. Without thinking, you slide down the bench until you're pressed shoulder to shoulder. Even though you're mad at him, you can't abandon him. Just like you've always been. Megumi takes a deep breath. "And then I found out that someone from a rival family had Tsumiki poisoned"

"Oh. The c-coma?" You ask, quietly, rhetoirical. Tsumiki had been in a coma for two years before she died. The pieces begin to fall together. You glance over at Megumi, whose face is blank and impassive. Forcefully so. Even now, he's trying to be strong for you.

The whole time then. It's always been like that. You thought you were Megumi's source of comfort, his strength. But he was yours.

It made sense now, why Megumi hardly looked at his sister, when the two of you visited her in the hospital. His personality growing more reserved. Distant. Why his visits grew more sparse as time moved on until you didn't see him for two whole years. He must have felt so alone.

"I wanted them all dead" He said suddenly, voice so dark and full of hatred that you flinch away. "But it wasn't enough for Gojo to do it. For some faceless lackey to do it. I had to do it. Because I failed to keep her safe. I was supposed to protect her and I fucked up and now she's dead"

You two only have each other Your words haunt you now. You can't help but feel as if you're the basis for the guilt that Megumi feels. You protect her and she protects you.

There's a sudden cold press against your lips. Megumi's kissed you.

"So imagine my surprise" Megumi says, lowly, hand pulling you in by the shoulder "That the last guy I have to kill in order to fully put my sister to rest is. Playing. Fucking. House. With. My. Wife" Each word is broken up with another kiss.

Your dizzy when he finally pulls away. You push lightly at Megumi's shoulders. He doesn't budge. His hand lands between your spread thighs on the bench, pale like the moon. His icy lips are nipping at the side of your neck now. Heat pools in your lower stomach.

"Me-Megumi...we're not, we're not married" You manage to gasp out, thighs clamping shut. Your stomach curls with disgust. "You mean...the whole time Shi―Takeo and I were dating he had...he was one of the ones who―"

You think you're going to be sick. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes and you hold on tightly to the sleeve of Megumi's suit jacket.

He makes a disgruntled sound, and mutter something like don't talk about him while I'm trying to kiss you but eventually works around to continuing.

"It took me a while to track him down. He was a rat, working for a rival family who had also been working for us. An informant. He knew where Tsumiki would be that day. He had been watching her and you too, for a long time. I never even fucking noticed" He says, spreading your legs again. "But before I had the chance to kill him, he fled―along with 1 million yen"

Your stomach swoops. But it's hard to focus on the dread you feel when Megumi has his hand down your skirt, toying with the waistband of your panties and kissing at the sensitive part of your neck he discovered earlier.

"Megu-Megumi, stop" You mutter, panicked, looking around the park for any voyeurs. "We're in a public place―someone could...Megumi, someone could see us, stop"

"There's no one around" Is the reply, cold fingers pressing against your skin. "Did you fuck that bastard? How many times?"

Despite the cold, you can feel the way your face begins to flush. "I'm n-not telling you that!" You exclaim hotly. As close as you are, even some things must be kept private. And your sex life is one of those things.

"So you did" Megumi says drily "How good was he? Not better than me"

"We never even!" You protest "We've never had sex Megumi―so how would you know?"

The wrong thing to say, apparently. Megumi wrenches away from you like you've just insulted Tsumiki herself, eyeing you like a predator would prey. In one quick movement, he's pulling you to your feet, snatching the ice-cream cup out of your hands and into the trash before setting a fast pace over to the car.

The car is a lot warmer than the chill air outside. Megumi pushes you down in the backseat, clambering on top of you. You try to scoot away, but one hand on your hip is strong enough to keep you in place.

Megumi's mouth presses to yours, hand rubbing up and down your stomach idly as he devours you. Kissing Megumi is different than any of the other guys you've kissed before. He kisses you like he's angry, frustrated―but then softens up, hand cupping your cheek and thumb stroking your jaw. Liking kissing you is enough to quell whatever fire and darkness swirls inside of him. He moves back, enough to strip out of his suit jacket, flinging it into the front seat.

"The windows are tinted" He says, as if that makes any difference to you. "Spread your legs"

Your eyes blow wide. "I'm not...I'm not doing that"

"Why not?"

"B-because!" You exclaim, trying to shut your legs again. And again, it's pointless to try. Honestly, the nerve of him! "I don't like you...like that. Megumi, we're practically siblings!"

"I don't think siblings kiss" Megumi says casually, flipping up your skirt instead. You want to point out that he kissed you. You just...reciprocated it for a minute. "And if you knew how much time I spent jerking off to you, I don't think you would believe we were 'practically siblings', either"

"You―you were―?" You stammer, unable to even get the words out

"My first wet dream was about you too" Megumi whispers, kissing you on your forehead. He sounds fond. "I still remember it. You were moaning so cutely when I fucked you. And god, you were a little spider monkey back then, remember? Kept clinging to me in the dream just like that. I wonder if you'll make the same sounds"

His hand splays across your clothed pussy. You can't think, can't even breathe, other than the fact that Megumi is about to fuck you in the backseat of his fancy car of all places and it feels like your entire world is falling apart.

You don't want this. You're sure you don't. But when Megumi's hands reverently pull down your panties (ignoring your protests when he tucks them into his back pocket), you can feel how wet you are. The brush of air against it doesn't help.

"Did that bastard ever get you this wet?" Megumi asks, tips of his fingers spreading your folds and gently trailing through your slick to gently pet around your hole. Your face burns with shame at the way your pussy clenches, knee jerking up involuntarily. His voice is far away and too close, all at the same time. "Did he?" He repeats, impatient.

"No" You wobble pathetically, watching as he shifts even closer. Megumi's hard cock grinds against your ass, heavy and smearing something hot and wet against your ass, even with the layers of his pants and underwear between you.

"I didn't think he did" Megumi says, before sliding two fingers into your cunt. The insides of your thighs spasm like pulled strings, a choked gasp leaving your lips as he pushes his fingers up until the last knuckle. "That bastard couldn't even fuck you properly"

His fingers pull back out of you, and then press back in. Slowly, at first, like he's mapping you out. The rest of his fingers smack against your ass with a soft slip and squelch. There's a determined knot in his brow before he slides them in―and starts finger-fucking you so hard you can't breathe.

"Meg―Megumi!" You squeal, though he shows no sign at all of slowing down. No, no, he speeds up―scissoring his fingers inside of you. A third finger spears into your cunt, thumb rubbing slow circles at your hooded clit. Your stomach curls and rolls, breathing hiccuping into sharp gasps and whimpers.

"He murdered my sister" Megumi growls lowly, fucking his fingers into your pussy like it's done something against him personally. You can't do anything but hold onto his inner wrist and take it. "Steals my fucking money, runs off with my girl and he can't even fuck you properly. How long were you two together? It couldn't have been worth it. You should've known you were mine instead of cozying up with that shithead"

Your insides churn rapidly. Each drag and push is like liquid fire, hitting your body in so many spots at once. You brace yourself against the cool leather seats of the car, heating up with how hot you feel, getting hotter still―chest heaving and heaving for air, toes curling in your socks.

When Megumi stops it pierces you like a physical pain. One moment you're nearly there, whimpering and pleading and the next―nothing. He's breathing hard, staring at the sticky mess between your thighs before those dark eyes slowly trail up to your body.

You cover your face with your hands, desperate for relief. Any relief. Why did he stop? This is wrong, you shouldn't be doing this at all. Much less feeling good from it. What would Tsumiki think? You don't want to know. All you know is that you were so close. You were right there and your pussy hurts, throbbing and you're so ashamed of the gushes of slick that seep out of you.

"I'm going to kill him" Megumi says. His hand cups your pussy, warm and solid. Your hips buck against it―chasing what he had once given you. "Very fucking slowly and very fucking painfully. You can't stop me from doing it. Do you understand?"

His other hand comes up to pull yours away, staring into your eyes. A part of you, despite everything, doesn't want Takeo to die. It makes shame curl in your gut. He was apart of the reason Tsumiki was in that coma in the first place. Those two years were the worst of your life. He was apart of the reason why she died.

But you think of his face in the morning, mussed from sleep. Whiny and always wanting to cuddle. It couldn't have all been fake, could it? At some point, Shigeo and Takeo had to have become one and the same. You loved that part of him.

Megumi calls your name. Your eyes flit to his face immediately. "Do you understand?" He repeats.

"I...I understand" You whisper quietly. Maybe the real reason you don't want Takeo to die is because Megumi will inevitably be the one to kill him. You've known Megumi since he was eight. He has always been a fighter, but he would never have it in him to kill someone.

If that's the Megumi you know, then who is this in front of you?

Hands settle on your knees. Your face flushes with embarrassment as you're suddenly spread open as far as you're able to in a car. You try and cover yourself with a squeak, but the movement of your hips as you move does nothing but reveal more of yourself to Megumi's ravenous gaze anyway.

"I'm not using a condom" Megumi states, flicking open the button on his pressed black slacks.

Your face pales.

Fingers skirt along your side. "We're going to be married anyway" he continues, shucking out of the pants and underwear. You try to dart your eyes away from looking at his cock―but you're a beat too late and you've already seen it. "Don't see why I have to wear one when you're going to be pregnant eventually"

He's big. Longer than Takeo, flush a pretty shade of red. Curving just slightly and dribbling precum. You don't know which one scares you more : Megumi's words or his cock.

He shuffles forward slightly, hooking a hand under you and pulling you forwards. The second, definitely the second.

Your legs snap close. Megumi wrenches them open again.

"Th―that's not going to fit." You say fearfully, whining as you try to break free of the sudden hold he has on you―squirming and bucking. You move so much that Megumi growls at you and then pins your hips down to the seats so that you can't move anything at all.

"It'll fit" Megumi mutters as a pitiful reassurance, bracketing your thighs overtop his knees. His brow knits, face pulling, and it's the most focused you've ever seen him. "I checked. Don't worry"

What's that supposed to mean? But before you can open your mouth to ask, he's cutting through your confusion with a simple, "Relax for me" and then proceeds not to miss a beat as he pushes inside.

Air rushes out of you in a sudden gust of adrenaline, back bowing off the seats with a high-pitched whine as Megumi spears himself inside your cunt. It's like a punch to the gut, flesh aching as you feel yourself stretch to properly swallow the first push. There's a loud grunt below you and then Megumi rocks gently back out, muttering a few choice words as he pushes himself in, all the way to the hilt.

A pair of hands settle across your waist. Megumi's fingers are long and pale against your dark skin, nails neatly trimmed with not a speck of dirt underneath.

"Told you it would fit" He says lowly, words melting like warm chocolate. His eyes flit down your body. "Look" He demands.

You do, moaning softly, staring down at the sight of your weeping pussy stretched around his girthy cock.

Megumi begins leilursely thrusting inside of you, cock bullying further into your cunt, eyes trained down at the place where your bodies are joined together. You've fallen flat on your back, gasping and choking for air. Each slow thrust is enough to make you feel it, impossible to ignore. This isn't your boyfriend, hands too big, grunts and groans too low-pitched to be Shigeo. Takeo.

This is your sour-faced Megumi. Megumi, who likes to pull out until the tip is just barely inside of you. This is Megumi, who likes to slowly push back in, muttering soft praises of how good you feel, how long he's been waiting for this, into your clammy skin.

There's the faintest press of lips to your forehead. Your eyes snap open, teary and wet. He's leaning over you now, cock nestled only deeper for it. His hand braces itself on your shoulder before sliding back down to your waist.

"Wanted our first time to be in my bed" He confesses, gently, hips slowly picking up the pace. His eyes are lidded with lust, skin ruddy and slightly red as your breaths sync into one rhythmic beat. "Not the one in the shitty Gojo estate―the one in your apartment. The one you've always had just for me"

His voice is low and reverent before a sweet kissed is placed onto your lips. "Going to fuck you now" He says, a warning, before he does just that. Your moans punch out of your throat, tapering off into high-pitched keens and whines. Your back arches but with Megumi's hands pinning you down to the seats there's nowhere for you to escape to.

You keen, gasping at the sudden shock sizzling down your spine―entirely too sharp and sudden and forceful to be wholly pleasurable, but achieving that same effect. Yet you clamp and clench around Megumi's cock anyway, tears streaming down your cheeks. One hand claws at the leather and the other grips tightly around Megumi's thumb.

And your orgasam is a sudden burst of pleasure that has your head tipping to the side with a noiseless scream as your cunt pulsates around his cock. "That's it, cum on my cock" Megumi grunts lowly, fucking you through it, cunt hot and slippery around him. Gripping him tightly, but milking at him like you already know whats coming.

Your head thuds against the seats lightly, body going nerveless and weightless in its entirety as Megumi's hips continue to snap into your cunt―chasing his own impending orgasam. Then he's pulling out, just so until the tip is pressing against your clit. His head collides with your shoulder, panting into the space between your neck and shoulder.

Megumi jerks at his cock in quick harsh strokes before painting your pussy in thick ropes of cum. Time stretches out, seconds, minutes, half an hour. You can't tell. You're floating somewhere faraway―only coming back to yourself when Megumi shifts your body upwards, cradling you to his chest.

You blink, slowly.

There a kiss planted on the top of your head. Megumi's voice is hoarse when he speaks. "Was I too rough?"

You swallow. Thinking is still pretty hard right now. "Rougher than I'm used to but...but it felt good"

"That's good" He says, and kisses the top of your head again. "I would never want to hurt you"

You are hurting me you want to say. The words don't come. Even if you weren't' half fucked out of your brain you don't think you could say them. Not to him. You're all Megumi's got. You won't abandon him. Not even for this. Just not in the way you think.

"I didn't know that was the kind of girl you went for" Gojo says, with a smirk on his face that Megumi wants to scratch off. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his navy colored pants, white hair tickling his neck.

Megumi scowls down at the pavement. Gojo falls into line behind him. The black sudan is just up ahead. "What are you talking about?"

"Is that where you've been going after school?" Is the question he's asked in return. "Tsumiki's best friends house?"

Why is Gojo asking a question he already knows the answer to? Gojo is so annoying. "Yes."

"Well I guess you are at that age now..." Says the man, whistling some odd tune. "I just didn't expect you to become such a pervert so quickly"

"Shut up" Megumi barks, clambering into the backseat of the car, face hot. Gojo slides in beside him. He clicks his tongue at the driver and soon, they're back on the road. "I'm not...you're being weird"

"Her skirt rode up when she flopped next to you on the couch" Megumi freezes. "You kept staring at her thighs."

"I wasn't" He lies, jerking his head towards the car window.

"I wonder if her mother notices that you stare at her like that" Hums the man, crossing one leg over the other. There's no use trying to defend himself. He's mostly sure that Gojo's only doing this to pull a reaction out of him. And he's fallen for that trick one time too many.

It's Gojo, who gives in first. "Don't look so down, Megumi. She'll be yours, don't worry" Megumi makes a grunting noise as his hair is ruffled. "Haven't you heard? Good things come to those who wait"

loved how you would get so sheepish when he would grab you and give you a hug having not seen him for a while, leaving you with a kiss on the forehead. heart beating out your chest whenever you had to talk to him alone and you’d embarrassingly would stumble over your words. “easy kid, it’s just uncle shane.. no need to be so nervous.” he would chuckle, his hand cupping your jaw to rub gently underneath your chin.

and always talking about how much of a looker you are, “warning” your dad about all the boys in your university that must be pinning after you. but you didn’t want them you wanted shane, wanted him to not see you as some little girl. and that’s why when summer break started you finally accepted his camping invitation, convincing your dad to let you just go alone with him instead of your whole family. and it didn’t take much convincing for your dad because he had the utmost respect and trust for uncle shane.

little did he know how much of a pervert his best friend was or just how much of a crush his daughter had on the man twice her age.

and that’s how you ended up in the woods with shane, standing to the side as you watched him set up the the tent for the two of you, muscles flexing in his black t-shirt. he looked so good and you wouldn’t be surprised if you were drooling at the sight. you were staring so long you didn’t realize shane was done, having to get back to reality by him snapping at you. “you there sweetheart?” he says with his lips curling into a smirk, you jolt back embarrassed and nod profusely.

“sorry..“ you say, eyes looking everywhere but at him, “um why is there only one sleeping bag?” gently cocking your head to the side, feet quietly kicking at the dirt. but shane just sighs and rests his hands on his hips, “you didn’t pack one with you?” making you shake your head no, a little confused not knowing how this camping situation usually goes. “well you could share this one with uncle shane yeah? I wont bite.” he jokes and you just comply, thinking you could get closer that way.

…

the day consists of shane showing you around the woods, his calloused hands guiding you to where he wanted you to go. he led you to where he often goes to catch deer, a very crowed place with trees and nature surrounding it. even being so lenient as to let you hold his shotgun, teaching you how to hold it with his head behind your neck, feeling his breaths as you focus on the sniper glass. and you panic when you see a deer trot into your sight, whimpering in shanes hold when you tell him you don’t want to hurt it. “shh it’s okay, don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do sweet girl. just put it down, I got you..” and you’re still shaken up, tears welling up in your eyes while shane holds you in his lap. kissing your head and soothing you, and once the tears aren’t as heavy he gets you up, patting the dirt off your knees.

you barely remember the way back to the tent, all you can recall is him holding your hand along the way, his shot gun on his shoulder. and you were still sniffling a bit until he got you to sit on the sleeping bag, tugging your little “camping” clothes off and leaving you in your underwear and bra. “s’cold uncle shane..”you’d whisper, “can you hold me, please?” holding your arms out to him so he would cover you in his warm grasp, and of course he can’t let his precious girl feel any discomfort on this trip he planned. so he lets you climb into his lap, biceps smothering you into him. “I know, just need to get you to bed babydoll.. it’s late.” shane says, rubbing his hand over your bare thigh, and you’re just nuzzling into his neck and gripping at his shirt, surely leaving stretch marks on it with your nails. you don’t know what comes over you but now you’re kissing his neck, his stubble tickling your lips as you feel him hold you closer.

“being real sweet on me baby..” your uncle grins at you, moving his neck back so you have more access to kiss him, letting you slowly getting up to straddle him. “what would your daddy say if he saw you like this kid, hm? being such a needy fuckin girl for his best friend..” yelping at the harsh smack he lands on your ass cheek, making you take your lips away from the older man for a moment, looking at him with want.

“m’not thinking about that right now shane, just want you to touch me.. .” and he just backs up a little with a quirked eyebrow, his hands groping your ass to soothe it, taking in that this precious girl he used to know is all wet for him, pleading for him to fuck her. “yeah? such a big girl asking for your uncles help.. give you just what you want pretty girl.”

a couple minutes later you’re on top of the older man, covered warmly in the fabric of his flannel that he had laying around the tent, working your way down his thick cock. “wont f-fit uncle shane..” you cry, hips quivering above his lap with only half his length inside your walls. and shane only coos at you from on top of the sleeping bag, gripping at your ass to plunge you deeper on his cock. you choke out a loud “augh!” in surprise from how deep it hits your stomach, falling into shanes chest. “know how much of a good girl you’re being for your uncle? taking my dick so good in that tight little pussy fuck-“

and he starts being so rough, fucking himself into you at the harshest pace, your ass rippling against his lap that it throbs. “mm s’too deep have t—have to slow down shane..!” you whimper out. you’re pounding at his shoulders with your fists from the stimulation, squirming as you feel him repeatedly kiss your cervix with his dick, just using your hole as if you were some sort of fleshlight for his pleasure. “t’aw it’s okay babydoll, just feels good that’s all.”

he’s teasing, panting from how much your clenching on him but still finding a way to grin in your face. from the wincing in your face and the way you could barely hold yourself up on his lap, shane could tell you were on the verge of cumming, looking so pretty above him with all the huffs and hiccups you’re pushing out. “go on pretty, cum all over your uncles dick.. feel it all stuffed in this tummy right? can see it right there pretty girl.” shane says slithering the rough pad of his fingertips over the bulge in your stomach, pressing on it until you cry loudly again. he’s nodding at you and for some reason you start to nod in his face too, your nose brushing against his lips and you could barely keep your eyes open. mind in a daze as you mumble out that you’ll cum like a good little girl just for him.

“thaats it, my sweet girl keep cumming fr’me..” shane praises, imbedding his cock as far as he can into your messy cunt. ignoring the whines that leave your lips, and emptying his load into his best friend’s daughter.

jack exhales through his nose, bringing you into his en-suite bathroom and locking the door just in case. he has you sit up on the counter, asks you to peel your panties off while he puts on some gloves.

a black lace thong? okay, he guesses that must be what the youngsters are wearing these days...

he spreads your pussy lips open with two chubby fingers, peering down at your fluttering cunt. one look at your egg-white cervical fluid and it's clear to him, nothing's wrong, you're just ovulating.

"s okay?" you murmur breathily.

"she's perfect," he replies, his eyes roaming over your dripping pussy, at the way your clit twitches under his gaze. "still, dad has to check inside. just to be safe."

soon he's got you leaking all over those blue nitrile gloves as he curls the thick digits against your g-spot, making you whimper. jack just grins at you, loving how your eyes can't leave his. "theeere we go. that's it. dad's hitting it, isn't he? i'm a doctor, baby. i know where all your precious spots are."

his fingers massage at your spongy insides, coaxing more slick out of your swollen pussy. "mmmhm. so responsive. dad's girl is perfectly healthy, nothin' to worry that pretty little head about."

and when he starts fucking his digits in and out of you, your hands gripping tight against the countertop, he says, "i wish i coulda taught you how your body worked, kiddo. y'shouldn't be getting scared about things like this, not when i'm right here. you know dad's got his good girl, always."

his free hand presses over your lower stomach and steadies you when you start to shake and your walls begin to clench, rubbing almost clinical circles over where you'd complained about it hurting earlier. "shhh... that's it, almost there, honeygirl. you're trembling, baby, dad's fingers really feel that good?"

when you nod, he coos, thumbing at your clit tenderly. "i got you. don't fight it, 's gonna feel even better now. all tingly, isn't it? lotta nerve endings there, kiddo. touchin' here makes you come real hard." and you do, tight around his fingers while he watches your sweet face, how you look while you whimper for him.

"oh, baby, you look so pretty..." he pulls his gloved fingers out of you with a pop, your juices stringing messily off of the nitrile. he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean, humming greedily at your taste before he pulls the gloves off with practiced ease and tosses them into the trashcan.

You sobbed, thighs trembling around his waist as another devastating stroke punched right into that spot again. Your walls clenched hard around him, slick and fluttering, but he just laughed softly under his breath, psychotic delight gleaming in his gaze.

“Poor little thing,” Dex murmured, leaning down closer so his breath ghosted over your wet cheek. His hand came up to brush a tear away with his thumb, almost tender, but the smirk twisting his mouth ruined any illusion of care. “I’m hitting it so perfectly, aren’t I? Right there… and there… and there.” Each word was punctuated by a sharp, targeted snap of his hips that made stars burst behind your eyelids.

You cried out, fresh tears pouring as the overwhelming pressure coiled tighter in your belly. It was too much, his thick length stretching you open, the relentless accuracy of every thrust grinding against that perfect angle until your whole body shook. Pain and pleasure twisted together so viciously you couldn’t breathe.

Dex’s pout deepened theatrically, eyes sparkling with cruel amusement. “Shh, shh, don’t cry so hard. I thought you liked it when I don’t miss.” He rolled his hips in a slow, filthy circle, pressing right up against that spot and holding there, grinding. “Or is it too good? Are you gonna break for me already, hmm?”

You nodded frantically, half-delirious, choking on a moan as another wave crashed through you. Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving red crescents, but he only grinned wider, clearly thriving on the sight of you falling apart beneath him.

“Good,” he whispered, voice dropping into something darker, hungrier. “I like you like this. All teary and ruined… just for me.”

Illumi already thought of you as this precious creature who can't exist outside of his care. You're nothing more than a doll to him, a puppet who requires him to pull the strings of your life.

But when you get pregnant those feelings become even more overwhelming. He's over you, really over you. All of those years working as an assassin without a break finally come to use as he's able to take a vacation to take care of you during your whole pregnancy.

Everything he and everyone else does must be catered for you to be happy and safe, content with your life so that you need for nothing.

If you ever express wanting or needing anything, he's on it instantly. No matter how superficial or mundane it may seem. This extends to pregnancy cravings, you mention the faintest desire for a certain food and he has already brought a ton of it to you, allowing you to indulge to your hearts content.

Your diet and day are monitored to the last detail. He has always been incredibly meticulous and careful, everything in your life is controlled by him. The moment you wake up, what you eat, what you do during the day, even the exercises you do to maintain yourself healthy during the pregnancy are looked over and assisted by him.

If there ever is any complication with the pregnancy, such as gestational diabetes or increased blood pressure you're bed ridden immediately. He will not hesitate to tie you to the bed if he feels that's what it takes to keep you safe. Of course, even then he's there to keep you company. His precious wife will never, ever feel alone.

When the birth-date is near Illumi doesn't leave you alone a single second, he insists on bathing you, always excusing his behavior with the very rational in his opinion fear that you will slip and fall and die with your baby while bleeding out. A true fatalist for sure.

He insists on a natural birth, finding endearing when you curse at him and his entire family as you push. He lets you squeeze his hand as much as you need, even if he thinks you will break it from how hard you grip.

Very mindful of you after you've given birth. You will not do ANYTHING other than care for your child the first few months. He wants you to be completely back in shape before returning to your normal life, and even then, he will not let you or his child out of his sight for too long. He needs to make sure you're both safe, and most importantly, his.

hope you enjoyed this!!!

have a great/day night!!!

COMISSIONS INFO

TAGGING: @pasteldaze @sunnymmoon @eroscastle @goldenglow149 @rania200527

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"Who cares about what you want?" His words are as cold as ever, devoid of emotion. You're half naked, barely able to cover yourself with the bed-sheets, he's shirtless, jet black hair falling over his shoulders.

"You should care." You answer meekly, gasping when he effortlessly tugs away the sheets from your body. "We're married. My desires should matter to you." He tilts his head to the side slightly, and you wonder if this is just another case of miscommunication. His voice is always so even, you've had a hard time distinguishing when he's joking to when he's serious because of this. "I-It really isn't funny, Illumi."

"I'm not trying to amuse you, ___." He's always so robotic, you feel your skin crawl.

"I understand. But- Still... I want to sleep now. I don't want to make love." You breathe in deeply, trying to calm down. "We'll have time for that later... when I'm ready."

When you open your eyes after those words, he's naked and on top of you. His eyes fixed on your face, his body caging yours. You try to move, but he has you trapped against the mattress. He's smiling, amused.

"Make love? When you're ready?" He lets out a chuckle, showing emotion for once. "Don't be absurd. Sex is for reproductive purposes, and from what I know about you..." His eyes travel downwards, to your naked stomach. "This is the best time to put my seed inside of you."

"Illumi!" You scream when he tears at your clothes, he shuts you up by pressing his palm against your mouth, shoving your face against the pillows. Your eyes fill with tears, he's able to manhandle you so easily. He's strong, far too strong. He twists you around to his liking, finding an angle where he's able to line the tip of his cock with the entrance of your cunt. He rubs it against your clit, at least helping you get a little slick.

He tries to push past the tight ring of muscle, barely able to get the tip inside.

"Huh?" He says, more to himself than to your teary eyed form. "Seems like you're too tight for penetration."

"I'm telling you!" You cry out, struggling against the hand that keeps you pinned down. You let out a choked scream when he pushes again, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration.

"It doesn't matter, He groans, his free hand squeezing at your hip, that will surely leave a bruise. "I'll make it fit." His hand travels down to your clip, rubbing it in circular motions that seem far too calculated, it doesn't matter how much you try to deny it, you're getting wetter by the second. "Who would've thought you would be so tiny to fit me? It's my fault too I suppose, I should've thought about it." He smiles again, the hand pinning you to the pillow relenting as he runs his fingers through your hair.

You're limp, sniffling as you stare at the wall. He's finally able to slip all the way inside, bottoming out with a satisfied groan.

"You're so warm inside..." He says, slowly pulling out until only the tip is inside, then slamming back inside you with as much strength as he can without harming you. "Maybe I'll end up liking it too much and making love to you for fun, not just for babies."

He grins, he's making fun of you. You can only moan, taking in the brutal way he thrusts inside of you.

"Wouldn't you like that, ___? Making love to me."

hope you enjoyed this!!

have a great day/night

TAGGING: @pasteldaze @sunnymmoon @rosemary108233 @yukimutsu  @eroscastle @goldenglow149 @Voidthewriting @rania200527 @kitzusune @Blueivyoreo @coolnekochan9961 @Notreallyablogger @lilyalone @ayn-yurbestie @oliviathatgirl @eeelieschariot