#I need a barrier to the wind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecoochiefairy · 1 month ago

Text

bloodhound. toji.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 15.9K word count. blackfem!reader, toji fushiguro, mafiagangmember!toji , violence, dominant!toji, sweet!toji, aggressive!toji, sensual sex, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condom-less sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this idea came at a random, kinda just for fun. loved it at first, started hating it as i wrote it? was committed to finish. idk. ugh. however, it was inspired by ‘the yakuza wife’ anime. anyways, a lot happened in the real world, sorry y’all. i love you. just enjoy. visuals.

EYES. THEY WERE ALWAYS RECEIVED TO HER BY THE STARE OF OTHER PEOPLE. It was common at this point, so much that it didn’t even offend her—But it should’ve.

Instead, she brought her focus upon the dimly lit lanterns that lead to the end of the market, needing to make it back to Tokyo before dark. Chocolate brown panels above to protect the stores from rain, cherry blossoms sprouting along the poles as she passed by, watching as the bars and restaurants began to pack like sardines within a can.

Back to the staring, she counted about three people today. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world. It just didn’t make sense to her—she’d been in Japan all her life, and she still felt like an outsider. She didn’t have fair skin, silky hair, or a petite frame. She was different, but he always reminded her there was beauty in being like no other.

She’d make sure to grab a small carton of rouge strawberries, her favorite fruit at any time of day. Number four, the man at the counter gives her a strange look as she walks around the store, before suppressing his peculiar stare, replacing it with a respectful smile as she hands him 10,000 yen.

It was a silent two hour ride back home—she knew she was going to get chastised, especially being without protection. The familiar walkway of succulents swayed with the wind as she followed a pathway, now standing in front of the barrier that separated her from the machiya—or house— as he’d taught her to say. She glances up at the camera that tries to hide at the top of the gate, also looking down through the bars as she can see one of the guards pointing a gun directly at her. The groceries become heavier.

She sighs, “Are you gonna let me in, or shoot me?”

When the guard recognizes the familiar voice, he lowers his gun at the same time he bows, constantly repeating, “Sumimasen,” as the top of the gate unlocks.

She gives a polite wave to the older women dressed in their housekeeping attire. She hears one of them call to help her with the groceries, to which she always waved off. Making her way inside, she quickly dropped the groceries in the kitchen, beginning to pull the items out of the bag as she could instantly feel someone behind her. She doesn’t have to look back, knowing it’s the man that’s assigned to follow her everywhere she goes.

She exhales, “You don’t have to hide in the corner, Kenji. Is my grandfather awake?”

Kenji, a tall and muscular man, emerges from the shadows and makes his way into the kitchen. He stands by the fridge, hands behind his back.

"No ma’am, he is still asleep," Kenji replies, his voice low and authoritative. He watches as she unpacks the groceries, his gaze unwavering.

"You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving.”

“Would you have taken me down to Kyoto if I asked?” She raises an eyebrow, knowing the answer to that, “I needed fresh fruit. You would’ve gone out and got it yourself.”

Kenji was an older, extremely serious man. Barely could get a laugh, smile, even the twitch of his pale face. He’d been the guardian of their family for years, but even he had his stresses when it came to her.

“That doesn’t mean you should leave the estate without me,” he replies stiffly, “You could’ve woken me up and I would’ve taken you.”

“I made it back safely,” she counters, “No one recognized me, so it’s fine. You want a strawberry?” She takes one from the plastic, reaching it out to him.

Kenji eyes the strawberry for a moment, before reluctantly taking it.

"It’s not about making it back safely," he replies, a hint of irritation in his tone, "It’s about the fact that you left without telling anyone. Anything could’ve happened to you."

“Ahh, you took it from me! You’re not that mad, Mamoru,” she calls him the traditional term, “You can save all that intimidation shit for Jiji, not me.”

"Don’t call me that," he mutters, crossing his arms. "And don’t call your grandfather Jiji. Have some respect."

“What? Is Ojiichan better for you?” She questions as she reaches her hand out, “Here. Have another strawberry. You’re mean today.”

Kenji grumbles, but accepts another strawberry anyway.

"Don’t try and butter me up," he mutters, taking a bite, "I’m not mean. I’m just doing my job."

He leans against the counter, looking at her with a mix of annoyance and concern. He taps the piece within his ear, his eyes coming up as he says, “Your grandfathers awake.”

“I’m going,” she’s already beginning to make her way upstairs, “Don’t touch the groceries! I can put them up myself.”

She comes down the hallway, sliding the wooden frame of the door, pressing her hand against the translucent paper as her eyes follow to the sight of her grandfather. Smile lines creased his olive face, even when he wasn’t happy.

She watched the housekeeper dab a cold towel against his face, walking forward as she tells her, “I’m here, you can go take a break,” she gives a light smile, offering to take the towel from her.

The housekeeper nods appreciatively and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. The only sound left is the soft breathing of her grandfather.

He turns his head towards her, his eyes slowly opening. “You’re back,” he rasps, his voice weak.

She sits along the floor beside his bed as she softly replies, “I’m surprised you’re not raising your blood pressure to yell at me.”

Her grandfather manages a weak smile, wincing slightly as he shifts in the bed.

"I'll save my anger for later," he mutters, his voice gruff. "What were you thinking, leaving without telling anyone?"

“I wasn’t gone that long,” she tells him, to which he says, “Bogo de hanashite kudasai.”

She replies, “You’re getting better at your English—can you not be difficult right now?”

"You still haven't explained why you went to the market by yourself."

“I went to your favorite market in Kyoto to find those dumplings you like, I wanted to make ramen,” she says, reaching out as she lightly dabs the towel against his face, “You’ still wanna yell now?”

Her grandfather's gruff exterior softens, and he looks at her with a hint of surprise. He can never stay mad at her.

"No," he mutters, closing his eyes as he lets out a long sigh. "I suppose you did bring me my favorite dumplings."

“How are you feeling?”

Her grandfather grunts, waving off the question. "I'm fine," he says dismissively, "You don't need to worry about me."

He notices the look on her face, and sighs. "I'm tired," he admits, wincing slightly as he tries to sit up more in the bed.

“You’ll feel better once I cook,” she mentions, “Do you want to try to take an actual shower today?”

“I’m too weak to stand,” he mutters, a hint of stubbornness in his voice, “But I’m still capable of taking care of myself.”

“Yet you can’t stand?” She raises an eyebrow.

She watches him lean back into the pillow, breathing as if he’d just done a marathon. The ball in her throat begins to form, and she hates that. She then says, “The man that would kill to protect his family, is now letting cancer take him in the dead of the night. You say I’m stubborn, and you wonder where that comes from?”

He grunts, turning away from her gaze. “Don’t start,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “I’m an old man. I’ve already lived my life. I don’t need your pity.”

“And I’m not giving it to you,” she swiftly replies, “We could’ve found the best treatment in Japan. And yet here you are, wanting your final months to be in the walls of this home. The leader of the Yakuza—who’s gonna scare the city when you’re gone?”

Her grandfather glares at her, his eyes narrow and sharp. "I've made my decision," he snaps, "This is where I want to be. I'm not some coward who's afraid to face death. And don't talk to me about the Yakuza. I've done everything I needed to do for them."

He lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders sagging as he leans back against the pillows, "I don't need you to remind me that I'm dying."

She brings her head down, staring along the towel she holds. She says softly, “Gomen’nasai,” her throat becoming tight again as she continues, “I just wish you weren’t trying to run away from me.”

"I'm not running away from you," he says, his tone gruff but gentle, "I'm just tired. I've spent my whole life fighting and I just want to rest now."

She knows that. It’s just hard to hear. The man that raised her, taught her everything she needed to know, maybe even more.

She hesitates, “Nani ka kiite mo īdesu ka?”

He nods, intertwining his fingers back together, laying himself properly back along the pillows beneath his body.

“Do you regret the life you lived?”

The question is general, although she wants to be specific. She slowly continues, “I know you for who you are, but others don’t. They feared you, feared the people you brought in. You—hurt people, did…illegal things. Would you have changed that?”

Her grandfather lets out a long sigh, thinking about her question. He is silent for a moment, contemplating his life spent.

"Yes," he finally says, his voice rough. "There are many things I regret about the life I lived. Things I did that I wish I could undo. But I did what I thought was necessary for our family—But I never regret meeting your grandmother, and I never regret having your father. Meaning— I never regret bringing you into this world."

She suppresses her smile as she says, “You’re getting soft on me, Jiji.”

"I'm not getting soft," he mutters, rolling his eyes, “I'm just being honest. However, I have one dying wish.”

She nods her head, waiting for him to continue. He then says, “You will be twenty-six soon, and all I ask is that you’re married before I die.”

She frowns, “That’s not long, Jiji, what am I supposed to do? Go out and pick a husband off of the street?”

Her grandfather smiles at her reaction, amused by her stubbornness. "No, obviously not," he chuckles, coughing a little at the end. "I don’t expect you to pick the first man you see. But you need to start thinking about it. You need to find a good man, someone who will take care of you after I’m gone."

“I can take care of myself,” she always told him, “I’ll be the first in your generation to be lonely with cats.”

Her grandfather grunts, looking at her with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not going to live alone with cats."

“I suspect you have a line up of men to offer to me?” She raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think I’m fond of being with those Yakuza crazies you keep under your wing.”

He studies her again, his eyes narrowed, "They’re respectable men. You're not a little girl anymore. It's time to start thinking about your future."

“I do think about my future. I’m trying to finish school to become a registered nurse, but you seem to tune out as soon as I tell you that,” she reminded him. Her grandfather was unfortunately an extremely traditional man, only seeing women to be taken care of by men.

"You're wasting your time with that," he grumbles, his eyes flickering back to hers, “You don't need to work. You have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life. And you certainly don't need to be a nurse. You're a woman, not a doctor."

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’ve found someone for you.”

Her frown deepens. She says, “Ojiichan, I hope you aren’t insinuating an arranged marriage.”

“An arranged marriage is not something you should reject right away," he says, "I know the perfect man for you. He's respectful, wealthy, and he comes from a good family in the Yakuza.”

“What happened to not wanting me married off to a man like you or my father? That’s what you want for me?” She sharply replies.

"Don’t you talk to me like that," he snaps, "I worked hard for this family. So did my son. I made sure we had power and a life most people dreamed of. This is a good man—strong, traditional. You will meet him tomorrow.”

Her eyes widen slightly, “What? ‘The hell do you mean tomorrow?”

Her grandfather looks at her sternly, his eyes piercing into hers, “You will meet him tomorrow. I'm not asking you, I’m telling you. You will get dressed and you will sit with him for tea."

He raises a hand when she starts to speak, silencing her, “This is not a discussion. You will meet him, and you will be polite. Understood?"

When she goes to argue again, his hand raises further, her eyes catching the trail of ink littered along the back of his arm, knowing it followed all the way up his back, down his spine. It was a reminder of who he once was, and the authority in his tone also did that.

He finalizes, “This is my dying wish, Sayuki. You will do this.”

The call of her full name means it’s no room for argument. She wasn’t ready to meet anyone, let alone be married. But this was all he asked of her, and she wanted to respect his wishes in death.

She nods her head, “Okay.”

Her grandfather’s expression softens slightly as he sees her nod. He lowers his hand, gesturing to the door, “Good. Now go make my gyoza, a dying man needs to eat.”

At this moment, she thought about poisoning his food. But she gave him something easier. A fake smile, a bow, and exiting the room.

𝓐ᥫ᭡

CHAMOMILE TEA. That’s what she remembered from this interaction. When the next day came, it flew by just to spite her. It was now closer to the evening, the lanterns of the night beginning to light as she stood within the mirror of her bedroom. She turned her body as she looked at herself, the backless pale yellow dress flowing down to her thin golden heels, straps wrapped around the tattoos along her feet. The top of her dress tied into a bow around her neck, dark hair up within a matching claw clip.

If there was a luxury her grandfather had given her, it was to dress however she chose. He’d shoot on sight for anyone that had an opinion on it. Tendrils flew around the caramel complexion of her face, honey brown freckles showing through her makeup despite her foundation, fox eyes slender beneath her lash extensions, pointing upwards along her face.

She pressed the brown outline of her cupid's bow lips to mix with the mauve closest to her mouth, spraying herself of a sensuous vanilla and jasmine scent before she made her way out of the door, Kenji immediately following behind.

She asked him softly, “Do I look okay?” Knowing the older man didn’t have much opinion, but she needed some type of reaction from someone.

Kenji looked at her, his expression stoic as usual, his eyes roaming over her figure, "You look beautiful," he said, his voice dry as usual.

He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on her face, "But you’re nervous," he added, “You’re squeezing your hands together."

“I know,” she sighs, “What if this is the husband of my dreams, Kenji? Like those dramatic movies I used to watch as a kid?”

He patted her shoulder reassuringly, "Just...try to act normal. And don’t punch him, at least not right away."

She huffs out a breath, “Thanks.”

She then slides the opening door to her grandfather's room, seeing as a housekeeper sat beside him, pressing a spoon to his mouth as she fed him soup.

Sayuki greeted, “I hear a lot of noise from downstairs, Jiji, are your children already running amuck?”

“Don’t joke like that,” he said, his tone gruff, “But yes, half of the clan’s already gathering. They’ll be at a meeting while you’re on your date.”

“Did you have to do that the same day? I’d rather avoid the embarrassment,” she replies, “…You didn’t tell me my dress was pretty.”

“You look like a delicate flower, my child.”

That makes her feel at ease. She then says, “Don’t let those idiots rummage the fridge, please? Those groceries are for you. I’ll be in the garden if you need me, okay?”

Her grandfather grunts, waving her off with a hand, "Don't show that attitude when you meet him. Don't be sharp-tongued or sarcastic. Act like a proper lady."

She keeps from rolling her eyes. Leaning down closer to the bed, she gives him a kiss on the cheek, before sliding the door closed and making her way downstairs. The men of the Yakuza filled the entire living room and kitchen, rowdy, loud, cigarette smoking, talking shit. Matching black suits, dark hair—an intimidation brought all along Tokyo. It was as if she hadn’t passed by, throaty laughs filling the house as they continued to play cards, arguing with one another.

She was back to following the path of plants, leading up to the gazebo that was surrounded by clear water, koi fish and flowers she’d planted herself, or even helped the housekeeper plant. Her eyes fell over the figure sitting on the inside of it, a table now in the middle of the seating area, small bowls, cups and mugs placed atop. She glanced back at Kenji who now stood by the door that led back into the house, far away enough from the garden, but close enough if anything happened. Her eyes gazed over the smoke that released from the cigarette in between his scarred lip, his frame unfamiliar to her eyes.

Her eyes slowly dragged over the man seated in her gazebo, taking him all in. His broad, muscular shoulders. His sharp jawline. His tall figure even when seated, long legs traveling for miles. Onyx hair and eyebrows furrowed, the dark suit he wore hugged against his large frame that could’ve exploded the seams of material.

She couldn't help but find him attractive already—and maybe a little intimidating. She took a deep breath, gathering the last bit of her courage, and walked through the garden towards him.

She lifted her leg onto the step, taking him in even closer. When his eyes finally met hers, her heart thumped, as his face wasn’t the best at expressing his emotions. Her hands clasped together in front of her, and she gave him a respectful bow—although she didn’t want to—making her way to the opposite side of the table as she sat herself down. His hand was huge, two fingers molding around his cigarette, plump lips taking another inhale as he scanned her. A couple minutes of silence go past, before his deep, attractive voice is the first to speak.

“Nihongo o hanasemasu ka?”

She blinks, trying to hide the scrunch in her nose as she replies, “I prefer to use English. Why wouldn’t I speak Japanese?”

He doesn’t give an answer, only using his eyes to frown at her. She does roll her eyes this time, briefly explaining, “My mother is black. I’m fluent in both English and Japanese, if that’s what you’re trying to confirm.”

He seemed completely uninterested, his expression still blank. He took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out, his eyes never leaving her. After a moment, he spoke in English.

“You’re not what I was expecting.”

“Am I supposed to apologize for that?” She raises an eyebrow.

He narrowed his eyes at her, his expression cold, but amused, “Nah. An apology is unnecessary.”

His eyes flicker over her figure again, the corner of his lip twitching slightly, “But an introduction wouldn’t hurt, yeah?”

She crossed her right leg over her left, clearing her throat in a way to retract her question as she replies, “Sayuki. And you?”

“Toji Fushiguro.”

His eyes traveled down to her legs as she shifted them, watching her move.

“It’s a pretty name,” he says suddenly, taking another drag, “Sayuki. ‘Longevity, long-lived’.”

“You knew that off the top of your head?” She questions, “I don’t know what your name means.”

He chuckled slightly, a rare sound, his deep voice making her heart thump again before he responded.

“Lucky,” he says, blowing another stream of smoke out, “My name means ‘lucky’.”

“Are you lucky?” She tilts her head, “I would say the habit of smoking is relatively unlucky.”

“Are you worried about my health after ten minutes of knowing each other?”

The question throws her off a bit. She wasn’t trying to have the upper hand in this conversation, but she surely didn’t want to seem nervous. She felt her face go warm as she counters, “Smoking is a bad habit for anyone. My grandfather did it a lot, one of the reasons he’s on his deathbed sooner than I’d like him to be.”

He looked at her steadily, the light smoke from his cigarette curling into the air as he watched her through the haze.

“I’m not worried about shit like life expectancy,” he says simply, “My job comes first. If smoking helps me get through stress, then fuck it.”

“You Yakuza men seem to never care about something as important as your health, or your life,” she points out, “You think if you got married your wife wouldn’t be worried about that?”

Toji chuckled again—a dry sound—but an amused one. “Who says I’m looking to get married?”

“Then why are we talking then?” She questions, “Isn’t that what we’re here for?”

Toji’s expression darkened slightly, his eyes flickering with a flash of annoyance. But then he chuckled again, a mocking, arrogant sound.

“My old man’s making me talk to you,” he admits, taking another drag of his cigarette, “He’s your Ojiichan’s right hand. Wants me to start a family, continue the bloodline and all that bullshit. So here I am.”

Yup, there it was. Her patience was thinning.

She then asks, “And you don’t want that?”

“Nah,” he said simply, “Not at all.”

He then smirked again, his dark gaze piercing her’s, “Why? Do you want to start a family, Sayuki?”

The way he said her name, emphasizing the pronunciation in their native tongue made her shift a bit. It was annoying. She answers honestly despite his tone, “I’m about to be twenty six, so a family would be nice. But I want my degree first, I’m studying to be a registered nurse. I wanna help people in ways my grandfather wouldn’t allow me to help him.”

"A career nurse," he repeats, “How noble and selfless of you."

She raises her posture up a bit, “What is that supposed to mean?”

His dark eyes dragged over her figure again, “You’re pretty as fuck—enough to marry an old millionaire, who’d pamper you ‘till the day you die.”

She now becomes visibly irritated, “I’m not tryna’ be a housewife and pop out a bunch of kids if that’s what you think by looking at me.”

“And why not? That’s what you were designed to do. A body like that and such a pretty ass face. You’d be worth the fuck.”

Yeah, that was it.

She takes the steaming tea in front of her, chucking it directly in his face, letting the actual cup follow after. She stands as she spits, “A disrespectful ass mouth like that, I can see why you’d still be wife searching at your grown age. Go fuck yourself.”

She’s already stomping away, fire in her eyes as she mutters, “Fuckin’ stupid ass nigga—Kenji! Let’s go!”

Toji’s eyes widen for a moment as the steaming tea is splashed into his face, his skin searing against the liquid as it hits him, cup following after. He looked to see the large bodyguard standing by the porch, and even he was shocked. All he could do as he watched her fly past him was give Toji a helpless stare before muttering, “Yes ma’am.”

In the past years of her grandfather being sick, the next five days was the first time she’d heard him curse in the longest. His anger trickled over to guards, staff within the house, even his men who worked for him. He was pissed after hearing what his granddaughter had done. She stayed in the room if she wasn’t checking on him, and the moment she saw him ready to go off, she would grow wings and fly. He’d be fine eventually.

She was now within the living room, palms and feet pressed along a mat as she did her morning stretches, talking on the phone with her mom to tell her of the situation.

“Chile, I don’t know why you’re calling me. Kenji already told me what happened—had your grandfather called, the man would’ve written his own eulogy. Doctor said his pressure is at an all time high,” her mom said, chuckling into the phone.

Sayuki sighs, “I wasn’t trying to give the man a heart attack.“

“I’m sure you didn’t, honey. But you know that first impressions matter.”

She brings herself to her knees, halting her stretching as she deadpans, “Momma. I understand the cultures around here, okay? Respect is big and all that shit. Jiji taught me that. Ole’ boy was the disrespectful one. I just gave him a taste of his own medicine. Or tea, to be specific.”

“I know he was being rude, but you know how important this is for your grandfather.”

There’s a pause between them, before her mother’s voice comes through the line again, a bit softer this time, “It won’t hurt to try and get along with him. At least for your Jiji’s sake, yeah?”

“That’s if I ever see the bastard again. You know Grandpa said? That he made some valid points in our conversation—he thinks all I’m supposed to make of myself is the perfect wife,” she shakes her head, raising her leg out to stretch the muscles behind.

Her mother is silent for a few long moments, before sighing again, “You know your grandfather is stuck in his traditional ways. You can’t expect for him to just change this late in life. Your father was the same way—just wanted me to pop out babies.”

She knew her mom wouldn’t have much commentary on this, considering she’d lived as a housewife for years before her husband's passing. She couldn’t handle the life Sayuki’s father lived, being within the Japanese Mafia—but her father in law refused to be without his granddaughter. So she let her stay in Tokyo, and went to the states to set out her own dreams.

Sayuki sighs, “How’s the army treating you, Sergeant? Where do they have you based right now?”

Her Mom chuckles slightly into the phone, an amused sort of sound, “I swear they have me stationed in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Texas, in the middle of this town called Waco. The people here are good ‘ol bible-thumping country folk. I’m terrified.”

Sayuki laughs, “You’ wanted to be head honcho so bad, now they’ got you in places you’ve never been before.”

Her mother is quiet for a moment, still chuckling, before she speaks again, “The job’s more stressful than I imagined,” she says, “But I’m getting the hang of it. I’m stationed at the base now, working with the new guys and whatnot,” She paused for another moment, before she sighs and continued, “I really need to get stationed back in Tokyo, though. I miss you and your Jiji a lot, you know.”

Sayuki hates that feeling of tightness in her throat. She told her mom to live out her dreams with her being an adult, and that she would be fine under the protection of her grandfather. But she also needed the only parent she had left.

“I miss you too, momma.”

She then hears the sliding door open to the hallway, Kenji appearing with a bow as he greets, “Ohayou gozaimasu. Your grandfather would like to speak to you.”

Sayuki sits on the floor fully as she raises an eyebrow, “He’s awake already?”

Her mom’s still on the phone, a soft hum coming from the line before she questions, “He’s not a morning person. You’ really gave him a heart attack, huh?”

Kenji replies, “He seems to be fine. He’s awake and very much alive,” He glances at Sayuki and bows again, before saying, “His orders were to bring you to his room.”

“Alright momma, I’ll try to call you before you turn in your phone again. I love you, always,” she doesn’t want to hang up, but her grandfather could be an impatient man, especially if he was upset.

Her mother’s voice filters through the line again, a familiar, comforting sound, “I love you, too, Sayuki-baby. Stay safe, okay?”

Then, she’s gone, and Kenji turns his attention back to her. The big man just silently starts walking, obviously expecting her to follow.

Sayuki follows him down the hallway, making their way to her grandfather's bedroom. She sends off Kenji as she slowly opens the door, to be greeted by a housekeeper who’s nervously patting his face with a cold sponge.

She tells her, “You can go. Thank you.”

The housekeeper immediately scurries off, taking the towel and bucket with her. Sayuki’s left alone with her grandfather now, who’s sitting up in bed, a newspaper on his lap. His eyes flicker up to her for a few moments, still sharp as ever.

“Do you come in peace?” She questions, sitting herself beside the bed, “I see you have the newspaper. You must be in a good mood.”

“The doctor said my pressures have risen,” he starts, his voice still surprisingly even, “But I am still breathing. If you hadn’t annoyed me so greatly, I would probably have another decade in my life.”

“Oh? So it’s my fault now? How about you’ put your lil’ gang members in check?” She crossed her arms.

Her grandfather’s eyes widened slightly at her blunt words, obviously surprised. He looks at her for a few long moments. Then, he shakes his head, “I taught you to respect men. Why can’t you be a little more…well… gentle? Polite?”

“I was soft and feminine like you want me to be. He’s the one that said he didn’t want to be married, and that I wasn’t even his type. He doesn’t even like black women,” she rambles.

As she sees her grandfather’s face, she rolls her eyes as she corrects herself, “Okay—he ain’t say all that. But he did say he was only there for his father’s sake.”

“It doesn’t matter what he said. I know that boy’s a bit arrogant. A little rude too. But family is important. He’s my right hand’s son.”

His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at her, saying, “And you have no choice in whether you marry him. You’re getting older, Sayuki. Twenty-six is not young anymore. I’m not letting you leave this house unless you’re a wife.”

“Is this my death sentence? What did I do to deserve this treatment?” She flops herself on the end of the bed, “Have you’ no heart?”

Her grandfather simply rolls his eyes, his expression unchanging, “Don’t be so dramatic, Sayuki. You know how marriage works in this family. I had an arranged marriage, and so did your father. The men pick their wives.”

He paused before leaning forward a bit in the bed, asking, “...Why are women so damn stubborn these days?”

“Cause this isn’t the fifties, that’s why!” She exclaims.

He takes a deep breath as he mutters, “Now if I become as dramatic as you and die right here on the spot, you’ll be very upset with me.”

He lets a few minutes of silence pass before he mutters, “…With your father not here, I won’t have anyone to protect you when I��m gone, Sayuki.”.

She sits up a bit, hearing as he becomes serious. She comes closer to him on the bed as she lays her head on his shoulder, “I can take care of myself, Grandpa.”

Her grandfather takes her small hand into his large, calloused one, his fingers gently intertwining with hers. He sighs, “You may be a strong young woman, but you’re too reckless. It’s not safe in this world. No matter how prepared you are to defend yourself.”

He squeezes her hand slightly, “When you asked me the regrets I have—it made me think, with the kind of family I have, who’s going to protect my Mago when I’m gone? The people that hate me, the people that won’t be able to hurt me because I’m gone, so they hurt you?”

Arranged marriage sounded silly to her, but with the family she had, she understood where her grandfather was coming from. He wasn’t doing this to force anything on her. He just wanted to make sure she was safe—even without him.

She squeezes his hand, giving him a kiss on the cheek as she suggests, “Maybe I can talk to him. But he needs to apologize. If he doesn’t, I’m not agreeing to this, is that fair?”

Her grandfather grunts again, his expression unchanging as a soft sigh escapes him, “He’s not a man to grovel. And you’ve already left a bad first impression. He won’t apologize for anything. That’s how we raised them.”

He pauses for a few moments before giving her hand a tight squeeze again, “....But I will speak to him,” He finalizes, his voice low.

“See! Don’t you feel better when you talk things out instead of being violent? A lot of your issues would’ve been solved better that way,” she gives him a smile.

Her grandfather grunts once more, his gaze fixed on the window away from her, “Violence is good when there’s nothing else to talk about. But I’m glad you feel better—because you’ll be going with him to fetch some groceries to cook dinner tonight.”

She immediately pulls her hand back, stepping off the bed as she says, “Huh? A meal? Who he’ think he is—Buddha?”

“Sayuki,” He warns.

He takes a deep breath, before continuing to speak, “You’re going to go to the store. Then you’ll come back here and cook for him. And maybe by then, you’ll have managed to impress him with your lovely personality.”

“Why can’t Kenji just go with me? You want me and Toji to go, alone, as if I don’t want to put a fork up his ass? You said you don’t want me traveling to Kyoto without him anyways,” she crosses her arms.

“Gengo,” her grandfather snaps, “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I won’t break your ass in two. Toji will go with you. I’m tired of arguing with you. I want to take a nap.”

“Well go take your old man ass nap, then!” She exclaims, “And now you’re not getting any of your favorite fruits!”

She opens the slide door, shrieking as a tall frame stands on the side of the wall, instantly recognizing the cigarette that hangs between the dark pink lips she’d seen days before.

She exasperates, “Great—this was a set up! I don’t like anybody in this house.”

Her grandfather chuckles gruffly, a low, amused sound, just as Toji takes a long drag of his cigarette. He glances her way, still leaning against the wall as he speaks, “Good to see you too. I can feel the love.”

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere recovering from third degree burns?” She continues walking, making her way back towards the living room, purposely walking fast in hopes that she’d lose him.

Toji pushes off the wall, easily catching up behind her as he questions, “Why are you so hellbent on avoiding me?”

“Hm, I don’t know—maybe cause you told me all I would be is a good fuck? You remember that?” She pushes the door open to the living room, stepping back onto her yoga mat.

“Yeah, I remember clearly.”

He glances over her, adding, “Although, you’re a lot more interesting than I thought you’d be when this all started.”

She sighs, “If you’re doing this for some brownie points from my grandfather, we can wrap this up quick as fuck, Fushiguro. I’m not sensitive, okay? But what you said hurt my feelings. I was being nice to you, even if I wasn’t keen on this arranged marriage thing in the first place. I need to finish stretching, so are we done?”

At her words, Toji takes a puff from his cigarette, before taking it out of his mouth and crushing it out.

“I’m here to apologize.”

She crosses her arms over each other, raising an eyebrow at that, “Are you saying that because someone asked you to?”

“Why were you so pissed about some words that came out of my mouth?” He questions, “You could’ve easily ignored them.“

“You don’t even know me. You assumed that I’m some airhead ass bitch that’s looking to be sold to the highest bidder. Well I’m not. I have my own dreams and ambitions, none of them involving a man—unless I decide that for myself.”

Toji looks at her for a few moments in silence. He runs a hand through his dark hair, before speaking once more.

“So I hurt your feelings.” he mutters. “And you’re not some airhead. Anything else I should know?”

His stare was intense at times, and it made her feel naked under the SKIMS army green romper she wears, headband and glasses pulling her hair out of her face. Facing him, she reaches down to grab for her ankles, stretching her legs out as she huffs, “That’s your form of an apology?”

He does take the time to watch her stretch, but doesn’t comment on it, just saying, “Goddamn, girl. I’m trying. I’ve never apologized to someone without a gun to my head.”

He takes a step forward, his head lowered as he stares down, now practically upside down with her.

“I have a habit of saying shit I don’t mean. So I’m sorry. You can throw some more scorching ass tea on me again if you want.”

She pulls her hair out of her face as she stands up, looking around the expression on his face. It’s the same—eyebrows low, waiting for a response. But it doesn’t lack sincerity.

She sighs, leaning down as she begins rolling up her yoga mat, “I’m not gonna do that. My grandpa will throw me into a pit of fire if he hears I assaulted you again.”

He watches her roll up the yoga mat, “You’ still mad at me?”

She looks up at him, tilting her head as she questions, “Do you want me to be?“

“I don’t know.”

He glances down at her, eyes lingering for a moment on her exposed skin, before he returns his gaze to her face, “If you’re not mad, what are you?”

“Ready to take this long ass train ride to Kyoto,” she finalizes, making her way around him, “I need to go shower.”

“What, no invite?”

“And somehow you’ve managed to lose points again,” she dismisses, slamming the door shut to her bedroom.

When comes out of her bedroom an hour later, she steps into the hallway to glance along the full body mirror—as she usually did. She pulls her dark hair behind her ear as it was straightened, her usual makeup along her face that consisted of cat eyed extensions, her lip combo of brown and mauve, lower eyelid filled with the matching dark brown of her lips. Her leather jacket clung to her frame, showing off a bit of her midriff as her pants were a matching leather material, hips desperately wanting to bust out of the tight seams.

She notices Toji along the wall, “…I don’t know what shoes to wear.”

Toji’s eyes flicker her way, a brief, almost unnoticeable glance at her frame, then back to her face, then back to her frame. He’ll shamelessly admit that his jaw tightened, and maybe he felt his dick jump.

“You’ asking for my opinion?”

“Jiji is the worst dressed man on the planet, and Kenji is in hiding so—yes.”

She eyes him in the mirror as he walks behind her, turning her head as she notices the look he gives her. She raises an eyebrow, “What?”

“You look good as fuck, you know that?”

“You’re not telling me what shoes I need to wear,” she almost pouts, “I wanna go before it hits noon!”

Toji doesn’t respond right away, just looking her up and down again, his gaze lingering for a few seconds on her hips, before he mutters, “You’re hard headed as hell. I said you looked good. I didn’t say what shoes you should wear. If it’s gonna make you hurry up, you should wear heels.”

“‘Kay’,” she turns around, making her way back into the room with a twist to her hips. She finds a pair of Dior black pumps, knowing she’d be fine in those for most of the day as they were comfortable. She sprays herself of her vanilla scent, shaking her head from side to side, throwing her head back to fix her hair.

“You don’t have to watch me, you know.”

He pushes off the wall again with his foot, moving toward her now. He’s a very imposing man, his form broad and tall. He’s at least a full foot and a half taller than her.

“My fault. I have a hard time looking away. You’ ready?”

She grabs her purse as she nods, “Mhm,” giving him a quick head to toe. He’s more simple in his clothes, a long black sleeve that hugs his muscular frame, belt, jeans and hefty boots along his feet, hair tossed around the sculpted sharpness of his face. Her eyes flick down to his wrist as she sees the ink hiding beneath the material, coming forward as she pulls it farther up to fully cover it, “The point of your Irezumi is that it’s supposed to be hidden.”

His wrist feels like hot iron under her fingertips. He can’t help but look down as she touches his wrist, her head slightly tipped to look up at him. Fuck, she’s gorgeous from this angle.

He raises an eyebrow as he grunts, “I know that,” allowing her to fix his clothing.

“I can see it on the back of your neck too,” she points out, reaching up, wrapping her fingers lightly in between his neck and back, “You should put a jacket on.”

The tightness on his jaw returns, his gaze fixed on her as his voice drops to a low murmur, “Are you gonna let go any time soon?”

She hesitates, her fingers still sitting on his upper back as she questions, “Am I making you uncomfortable?” She then fully pulls herself back, “I’m sorry.”

“Did I say that?”

“No.”

“Then why are you apologizing?”

Before she can reply, he’s already going around her, heading down the hallway to pull the Harley Davidson leather jacket over his body, her eyes also taking notice of the M9 gun he places in the back of his pants. He nods his head in the direction of the door, and she follows after, not before quickly diving into the master bedroom to give her grandfather a kiss goodbye.

The train ride had been…interesting for her to say the least. With it being the weekend, it was one of its busier days, the train compact with people to a point where they had to stand. Sayuki leaned her back against the window of the train as Toji hovered over her, hand gripping the bar up top. When the train came to a stop, everyone began slanting forward, trying to catch their weight on themselves. Toji’s body connected to hers, pressing his chest lightly against her nose to keep her from moving.

She inhaled quietly, the scent of his cologne trapping her nostrils, his jaw touching the top of her head made her heart speed up a bit.

He tried not to be too obvious as he watched her from this view—but damn, she was pretty like this too. Under him like this. It felt like she belonged there.

It didn’t become any better the moment they arrived in the bustling streets of Kyoto. The cherry blossoms hung along the top of the buildings, brightly lit colored signs coaxing in their next customer. There was a feeling coming to him he’d never experienced before, watching as she politely spoke to people who passed her, talked up the people who worked within the stores, complimented each woman's outfit she saw. Hell, she’d even crouched down, sneaking sample food to a homeless cat mewling close by an alleyway.

Toji was starting to realize just how opposite their personalities were, but God, she had a certain…charm to her. He’d been silent, watching her with a blank expression as she interacted with everyone they passed, never breaking that smile. Toji was gruff, blunt, intimidating—didn’t bother to look at anyone twice. Yet she was the opposite in every way.

How could they ever be compatible?

She makes her way into a smaller market, empty as she knew it was more expensive than the ones on the outside. But this was usually where she bought all of her fresh produce. She glances to the man at the counter, seeing as he flicks his eyes up to her, sitting himself up more straight—as if he had to keep his attention on her.

She looks around, “Is there anything in particular you like to eat?” She questions, turning herself towards Toji who stays close to the front door, lighting a cigarette between his lips.

Toji takes a long puff from the cigarette resting between his lips, his dark eyes following her through the small shop.

He takes a moment before replying, “I like fish.”

His eyes glance over her form, her ass practically calling to him in those pants. She was sexy without even trying.

“How about Sashimi? Are you okay with yellowtail?”

She’s so concerned with his taste buds, Toji only seems to notice the grimace the man at the counter continues giving her.

He looks back at her, all while his eyes are still focused, his tone is a bit more softened as he replies, “Yeah, that’s fine,” taking another long breath from the cigarette between his lips.

“Okay,” she says softly, talking more to herself as she decides how she wants to cook the fish. When she has all of her ingredients, she comes up to the register as she sees the fruits are behind the counter.

She greets, “Ohayo gozaimasu, do you have fresh strawberries by chance?”

“No strawberries today,” he doesn’t return her greeting, cutting straight to her question as it’s nowhere near friendly.

She frowns a bit, “Are you sure? I come here for them often— the lady that works usually gives me a good amount.”

“I said we don’t have any,” he replies again, his eyes lingering over her, “Are you done shopping?”

He’s clearly not looking at her in a very favorable way, a look of irritation and disdain written on his face.

From Toji’s stance, he can see behind the counter, looking directly at a box of what looks to hold strawberries. And as he notices the man now glaring at him, he raises an eyebrow, pulling the cigarette down from his lips, blowing out a puff.

When Sayuki notices this as well, she turns back to Toji, putting together that he may have known Toji from being a part of the Yakuza. The owners of this store had to be from a clan that wasn’t too fond of them.

She then says, “We’re not coming here to cause any trouble—I just wanted my strawberries. I can buy a bundle of them?” She offers, beginning to rummage her purse for the money.

“We don’t serve the likes of you people,” the cashier spits.

And from the way he looks at her in disgust, it feels personal. Her eyebrows lower against her face, hating the way that once again—her feelings are hurt.

She sighs, “It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

Toji’s jaw clenches, his entire body stiffening. Something about the way her expression broke had his blood boiling.

“Go? Yeah, nah. I’m good on’ that.”

When he pushes himself off the wall, he’s already standing in front of the counter. In one swift motion, the shriek from this man fills the entire store as Toji has him by his shirt, tugging him halfway over the counter. He fights against the one hand holding him in a effortless yet painful grip, shouting as Toji casually sighs, “Shut up,” raising his cigarette, ashing the man on his forehead. He then takes it back to his lips as he talks, “Now see, we didn’t even have to do all this,” removing the gun from the back of his pants, tapping it against the side of the man’s cheek.

Sayuki steps back, eyes wide as she panics, “Toji! It’s fine!”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear her, his eyes fixated on the trembling man in his hands.

“Strawberries, right?”

When the man replies with a stutter, “Y-Yes, sir,” Toji’s expression doesn’t soften, “You got ‘em in back?”

He nods his head quickly, whimpering again, “Y-yes, sir.”

The sight of that man that just had so much mouth for Sayuki, now stuttering and terrified in Toji’s hold, Sayuki can’t help the slightly scared giggle that stumbles from her lips, shocked at what she’s witnessing.

That single sound of laughter reaches his ears, catching his attention as he slightly turns to glance her way, “Oh you like that shit, huh?”

When he looks back at the cashier, his voice drops even deeper, “Apologize to the pretty lady.”

The man replies instantly, “Yes, yes! I’m so sorry!”

Sayuki is still giggling, watching as Toji shoves the man back so hard that he knocks into the wall of objects behind him, nearly falling onto the floor. He presses his gun back into his pants, adjusting his jacket as he mutters, “‘Made me get all out of character,” before he commands, “Go get the strawberries before I actually get mad.”

The man scrambles on shaky legs, pulling out the box of fruit behind him as he says, “T—Take them! Take everything you need!”

Sayuki politely takes two cartons as she gives him a smile, “Thank you,” as Toji tugs the register closer to him, knocking his fist down to it, watching as it opens, pulling cash out of the object.

She shakes her head, “Now you’re doing too much.”

“They don’t call me a criminal for nothin’, baby,” he puffs out some smoke, “You’ hungry?”

She sighs, keeping her complaints to herself as she puts all her groceries within her tote bag, “Starving, actually.”

“Good.”

He takes one last drag from the cigarette, before flicking it to the floor, watching as the man flinches, thinking he was gonna toss it towards him.

“C’mon,” he gruffs, “It’s on me. Or him, in this case.”

They make it to a restaurant a couple of blocks down, Sayuki placing the strap of her tote against the chair behind her, giving a polite smile as the waiter places the food down against the table. She glances up at Toji, taking the mini slice of pizza as she questions, “Are you gonna smoke in every building we go to?”

“You gonna bother me every time I do?” he shoots back.

She scrunches her nose, “You’re supposed to be nice to me. Wanna bite of my pizza?” She offers, raising the slice towards him.

He raises a dark eyebrow, a huff of a laugh leaving him as he leans forward, his jaw parting slightly as she brings the pizza to his mouth, biting into it. When she pulls her hand back, he chews silently before replying, “I didn’t shoot that dumbass in the store, and I just took a bite of your food without arguing. I’m Peter Pan at this point.”

The laugh that falls from her mouth is bubbly, wrapping her full lips around her straw. Once again, she’s back to noticing him staring at her, she raises an eyebrow as she questions, “Why are you always just looking?”

“Can’t help it. Got some pretty ass lips.”

“Quit flirting,” she moves her hair behind her shoulder, glancing down at her phone to distract herself from the warmth that comes along her face.

She then hears him remind, “You never told me how school was going.”

She peers her head up, “Why do you care now?”

He doesn’t even look phased by the question, “Can’t I ask? You’d rather I don’t show any interest in you?”

She sighs a bit, “I don’t think you’d know anything about it.”

Toji’s eyebrows raise up at her response, “Why you’ said that shit like I’m uneducated?”

He leans in closer, his knee now touching hers beneath the table, the feeling intimate, “Talk to me.”

She tilts her head, trying to adjust her knee away from his, but it’d be too obvious to completely shift the way she sits. So she leaves it there.

“I’m tryna’ get my Bachelors in Science. Meaning I have to take some stupid ass, hard ass class like Pathophysiology. They teach shit like that in the Mafia handbook since you know everything?”

“You don’t need a degree to know how the human body works, baby,” he replies, “Seen a lot of dead bodies in my time.”

“Gross,” she dismisses, “Hearing that makes it all the more worse. This is harder than college advanced math for me. Maybe I’m just stupid or something,” she presses her lips together, leaning her head in the palm of her hand, placing her elbow against the table. He can see the change in her expression, the way her mood visibly drops.

“Baby,” he sighs, her heart fluttering a bit at the repeated pet name, “You can’t really think I was callin’ you stupid.”

“I know you weren’t. It’s just— I’ve taken this class twice, and I’m someone who believes shit happens for a reason—maybe this isn’t my path, cause I’d be able to pass if it was meant for me, right?” She blinks, her lashes fluttering heavily.

“Or,” he interjects, “Maybe you need to learn how to ask for help instead of just assuming you’re incapable of passin’.”

He can see her brain processing, a slow flicker of shock and confusion in her gaze. When she just stares at him, silent, he confirms, “You don’t gotta deal with all your problems alone.”

“This is where you just say I’m pretty and my brain is big,” she rolls her eyes, picking a pepperoni slice off her pizza, chewing against it to distract herself.

“Baby, I’ll call you pretty whenever you want. But I’d like it even more if you’d admit you’re smart without me havin’ to remind you.”

“My dad was really good at sciences, it must’ve skipped a generation,” she gives a weak smile, a tinge of sadness hidden beneath her expression.

Toji’s jaw clenches at the sight of such a weak smile on her face. Something about how sad she looked bothered him, and maybe he wanted to get back that bubbly expression she’d just had moments ago.

“You’re smart, Sayuki. It never skipped a generation.”

She tilts her head a bit as she replies, “I think you’re just saying that cause you have a lil’ crush on me.”

“Damn, guess I’ve been figured out.”

That actually makes her giggle, and to see that return to her face does make him relax a bit. She then offers, “Want me to feed you again?”

He glances down at the offer, looking back up at her, his head tilting a bit as he grins, “You miss my mouth already? Greedy ass.”

The stark contrast of their first interaction up until now was nothing that Sayuki had ever expected. She wasn’t the one to believe in fairytales, or have these high hopes when it came to the possibility of a relationship. But this was something she hadn’t felt with anyone in a while—romance.

Maybe she was starting to like him— maybe she was love bombing him. She wasn’t entirely sure. She noticed small things, like anytime his stride was longer than hers, he’d slow down to walk more behind her. They were now walking through the quiet night in between two buildings, planning to make their way back to the train.

When she caught onto his purposeful walking tactic, she took hold of his hand, tugging him forward a bit as she became annoyed, “You can walk faster.”

“You keep tuggin’ on my arm like that, I’ll think you’re desperate for me to touch you or somethin’.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don’t be cute. I’m not.”

But as she feels his long strides slow down, she turns behind herself, now feeling as her back is being lightly pressed along the wall. Her head tilted up as his jaw reached her nose, his body having to hover for her comfortability.

He places sturdy hands on either side of the wall, pinning her in place. His eyes hold a dangerous gleam in them, the playful attitude continuing as he looks down to her.

“You’re quiet. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He leans down, his face a lot closer than before, the distance miniscule.

She takes a deep breath, kneeling her face closer to his, scanning the dark grey of his eyes. She then admits, “I um…I had a nice time with you today.”

“You did, huh?”

She smacks her lips at that, turning her face away. One of his hands leaves the wall, moving to grip her chin between his thumb and pointer finger, tilting her face to look back at him. He hums, “What other shit you wanna admit while you’re at it?”

“That I like you,” she blinks up at him, “And…that I hope you saying you liked me too in the restaurant wasn’t just talk.”

His hand moves up further, his fingers moving along the skin of her cheek slowly, “How about you quit doubtin’ me?”

One thing he’s good at doing is making her easily irritated. Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at him, “Well why can’t you just say it again? You always gotta answer my responses with a question. You can just be so—“

Another thing she couldn’t stand about him—he was smooth. There should’ve been no way that he caught the rest of her words within his mouth, gripping her in a kiss to shut her up. His hand grasps the back of her neck, tugging her hair a bit to keep her head tilted up. A baby gasp pulled from her mouth, tugging at the bottom of his shirt to keep herself steady. His mouth was warm, tongue heavy, her eyes slowly fluttering shut at the taste of him.

And god, that gasp of hers was music to his ears, pushing his tongue further into her mouth in response as the hand once on the wall slid down to grip at her hip, using it to pull her against his body. It wasn’t rushed, instead slow, his tongue twisting slowly around hers, his teeth catching gently against her bottom lip in a way that couldn’t be an accident.

She’s so drowned within him, she has to reach up and clasp her fingers around his jaw, pushing his mouth back as she presses her forehead to his, breathlessly giggling, “We’re gonna miss the train…”

He leans forward again, and for a second, she thinks he’s going to push for another kiss, but his nose brushes against hers instead, his tone lower as he questions, “You’ that eager to go home?”

“I’m just—“

“Yo, Yakuza boy!”

They both halt, Sayuki pulling herself away as she looks to the end of the alleyway, seeing two men beginning to walk towards them. The way they walk towards them—it’s not inviting in the slightest.

“We heard how you robbed the market a couple blocks down, thought we’d come politely ask for that money back.”

She knew Toji wasn’t afraid. But in the sense of her being with him, she could see the way he lifted his head, glaring at the two. He lightly took her body within his arm and pushed her behind himself.

“We can do this shit later. I got a woman with me,” he warns, “Your cashier boy pissed me off, I was teaching him a lesson.”

The two men glance between each other, before going back to Toji, taking another couple of steps forward. One of them grins, his tone mocking as he responds, "And? We didn't ask for the life story."

Sayuki grips her fingers against the jacket he wears, trying to pull him back as she muffles, “Let’s go, Toji. We aren’t in Tokyo—“

“Leaving so soon?”

She turns, seeing another man coming from the opposite end of the alleyway. They were now surrounded, and this one carried a crowbar within his palm.

Toji tenses visibly, his arm tightening around her as he glares at the three men surrounding them, his eyes flickering from each one.

“You’ got a fuckin’ death wish?”

“I think you do,” one of the guys counters, “You know this is our turf. Now shit has to get a little ugly in return. We’ll just strip you down, call it even, cool?”

Sayuki steps from behind him a bit, coming towards the man with the crowbar as she quickly says, “I don’t mind bringing the stuff I took from the market back. It’s no problem—“

But just in that millisecond, it’s as if someone cut the lights off in her brain. She doesn’t register the knuckles that crush against her face until she slams against the ground, her hair falling over her jaw that throbs the minute she feels pain register. She grunts, her ears ringing, palm dragging against the cement to try to bring herself to reality as she can now hear fighting above her.

Everything seems to go silent for Toji when he watches her fall to the ground, a heavy rush of red flooding his vision that he’s never felt before. When he sees her hands desperately gripping the ground beneath her trying to get up, a voice in his brain snaps, and he’s charging at the guy that hit her before any sort of rationality can make an appearance. All three men are surrounding him as he swings, forcing his weight down into every punch he throws.

Within seconds, one of the men is clutching his abdomen, another bent over on the ground, and the third—crowbar in hand—struggling to stay upright as he raises the bloody metal weapon in the air to swing down against Toji’s head.

Her vision is a bit blurry, hand trembling as she reaches for the wall close to her, eyes opening as she begs, “T—Toji…stop…” so quiet that she knew he couldn’t hear it.

She could see as he picked up the man bent on the ground, beginning to plummet his fist into his face. He won’t stop.

She can hear the blood against his knuckles, the crack of bone shifting beneath his punch, the small grunt each time he swings forward. Her body feels cold, a sense of fear exhilarating her skin like no other. Seeing him mercilessly beat this man was a reminder of who he could be—who he was.

“Toji…” she pushes her voice out more, “…Please stop! You’re going to kill him…”

As she pleads, the punches continue. She watches as the man with the crowbar drops the weapon, pulling a pocket knife from his pants, rushing over as he lunges into Toji’s side. That makes Sayuki almost sober up, watching as he drops the man in his hands, hitting the ground with him.

Toji grunts out in pain, his hand moving to grip his side. He can feel the way more blood pours from the wound, soaking the side of his pant leg and jacket.

An anger she hadn’t expected seeps through her entire body. Even with a throbbing jaw, a weary vision, she scurries forward as she grabs the crowbar the man originally held, raising it as she swung harshly at him, watching as he slammed against the wall from impact. She reaches within the back of her jacket as she pulls out an even bigger pocket knife. Waiting no longer, she jabs it within his side, using her strength to hold him against the wall, ignoring the curse he lets out.

She grits her teeth, “Now you’ll both have matching scars,” twisting the knife within his body, ignoring his painful shout.

Toji pushes himself up with a low grunt at the sound of her voice, his hand still covering the spot where he was now pouring blood. He’s pissed at how own vision was becoming blurry—he can’t see. Hearing the shouts of the man, he sees his shadow glide by as he took off out the alleyway, knife still within his side.

Sayuki throws the crowbar within her hand, rushing over to Toji as she drops to her knees in front of him, pressing her hand against his wound as her eyes chaotically scatter over his pained look— “Hey—hey—look at me…” Her own hand becomes painted red, “Shit!”

Toji’s eyes are screwed shut for a couple of seconds as her hand presses against his, body flinching at the pain. But when he registers her voice again, his eyes snap open. The feeling of her hands against his skin is enough to help clear the darkness that was starting to take over his mind. His hand moves from his side to grab hers.

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

“No you’re not,” she croaks, her vision returning to a blur, clearing as warm tears slide down her freckled cheeks, “You’re not. I’m calling for help, okay? P—Please stay awake,” she’s holding his wound, clutching the side of his neck, her heart beating outside of her chest.

Toji’s eyes look at her, seeing the worry across her face. He knew he had to stay awake, not only for her sake, but for his own if he didn’t want to bleed out in some alleyway. Her touch on his neck was making it near impossible for him to keep his head up.

He huffs out a short breath, “Don’t…call anybody.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid right now!” She panics, fingers trembling as blood rushes over the screen of her phone, dialing someone, anyone at the moment. The phone slides farther away from them as she tries to pull him up, desperately taking his jacket off to press it against his stab.

She’s rambling in panic, “I—I’m—I’m so sorry…”

Toji feels his balance stagger a bit as she pulls him up, the action forcing a hiss of pain from his mouth. He leans his weight against the wall, his eyes flickering to the phone on the ground. His jaw clenches, the thought of her feeling like any of this being her fault irritates him, “S—Stop apologizin’…not now…”

“I can’t,” she cried, terrified at the sight of him, her face entirely red, breathing unleveled as her chest heaved.

Toji’s heart twists at the sound of her crying. He wants to reach up to wipe her tears, but the pain in his side stops him.

“Don’t cry…” he practically pleads with her, the thought of her crying any harder making his head spin.

In Toji fashion, he raises his free hand up to reach for her body, pulling her close to him. He wasn’t dramatic, but seeing his vision blur might’ve had him tense, and if he did pass out, he had to make sure she was still there.

He grits out, “You…had a knife on you this whole time?”

She blinks through her tears, sniffling as she registers the question. She nods her head, trying to keep herself calm. Even stabbed, he was able to form some type of amusement, a tired huff of a chuckle blowing against her face as he said, “You really are my fuckin’ wife.”

She can’t help but laugh in return, the weakness of his voice making her cry harder. Toji couldn’t help it, holding her felt good, especially in his current condition. His hand moves to tangle within the ends of her hair, pulling her closer to his chest as he leans his head back.

He couldn’t tell how much time passed as the lights of Kenji’s Cadillac Escalade illuminated the dark alleyway. But it didn’t matter, he’d passed out—Her touch being the last thing he could feel.

𝓐ᥫ᭡

SAYUKI LOOKED WITHIN THE MIRROR, head in her lap as the housekeeper continued to press ice along her bruised jaw, tuning in and out of her grandfather's chastising. Even in sickness, even on his deathbed, the man had a voice on him.

She sighed, “You’re going to run your blood pressure up if you keep yelling like that, Jiji.”

He makes a clicking noise with his tongue, the action clearly disapproving. His eyes glared at the bruise on his granddaughter’s face.

“Of course I’m going to raise my goddamn blood pressure. You were assaulted. I’m going to have those bastards heads sent back to their families!”

“Me and Toji stole from a market in Kyoto,” she reminds, “We didn’t know the store belonged to a different turf.”

“I don’t care where you were—“

He grits the words out between his teeth, his eyes narrowing. Kenji, standing in the doorway, gives the older man a look telling him to relax. He huffs, closing his eyes for a moment.

“How does your face feel?”

“Like I fell off my bike, Ojiichan,” she softly replies, “Is Toji alright?” Her patience is wearing thin, no one telling her any updates of him since they took him down to the basement, calling along their underground doctor.

The older man sighs, “The doctor stitched him up. It appears he didn’t lose that much blood…he was lucky,” he grumbles, his eyes flickering back to her face, “You two should’ve known better. We don’t need another incident like—“

He stops himself, not wanting to bring up the past. He then says, “He’ll be in one of the guest rooms tonight. You should go check on him. I would like to go to sleep.”

She knows he’s upset, but she doesn’t want to make it any worse. So she leans down as she gives him a kiss on the cheek, bowing as she allows the housekeeper to get him ready for bed. Her eyes kept down on the blood running off her fingers as she showered, and the whole incident replayed in her head like clockwork. Again. Again.

Throwing an oversized tee on herself, she slips along her plush slippers as she goes in search of the guest bedroom along the opposite side of the house. It’s dim within the hallway, quiet as she pads her feet against the floor. She doesn’t know why she feels nervous. She stands in front of the sliding door, halting herself there as she takes a quiet breath. She knocks along the wooden part, not wanting to intrude.

Toji is sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless as he looks over his stitched up wound. He had scars from every fight, any trouble he got himself into, but the newest one was…different.

The doctor was right—One wrong move and he could’ve died. That thought makes his jaw clench.

He huffs out a breath, replying, “Come in.”

She slides the door open, closing it behind herself as she looks over him, now seeing his Irezumi face to face. The colors strike upon his skin, body painted in ink from the top of his back to his tailbone, traveling all across his arms. It’s like he wears another shirt. Even through the ink, she can see the stitches along his side. She comes forward as she kneels herself in front of him, placing a gentle hand close to his injury as she asks, “How does it feel?”

Toji’s eyes watch as she moves. Her face is bare, freckles prominent, dark hair curly and damp, stretching down her back as she’d just gotten out of the shower. He had never seen her look so small—maybe because she rarely looked so vulnerable.

“Hurts like a motherfucker.”

He immediately catches hold of the bruise against her jaw, grunting to her, “Tell me it hurts. Don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t,” she promises, “I’m fine.”

Toji makes a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. He brings his other hand to her chin, gently turning it to see her from a different angle in the light.

“I know you’re pissed off, but I’d rather you just say that you’re glad I’m okay,” Sayuki attempts to lightly joke, “My grandpa’s given me enough shit about my injury.”

His head cocks to the side as he gives her a look, “You seem to know me already.”

His grip on her chin is still tight, his thumb softly moving across the skin, “You have no idea how pissed I am that this shit happened….all because of me.”

She exhales, her mind flashing of memories she didn’t want to be reminded of. She rubs her thumb across his arm, flicking her eyes up as she admits, “The moment I saw you on the ground…it just—it made me remember how I felt…seeing my dad like that.”

She hates that she feels her body go cold, finding it so hard to talk about this.

“It happened all the same—walking from the market, being trapped by members from another clan. They stabbed him, killed him—enjoyed how I cried for them to stop.”

She can feel the tears in her eyes. She swipes her fingers under her cheeks, hands trembling as she shudders, “I just…I was so scared,” she tremors, “You can’t do shit like that, Fushiguro…”

She’s hyperventilating at this point, “I c—can’t lose someone else like that…” she brings her hands to her face, sharply inhaling as she full on cries.

Toji feels his chest shift at the sound of her broken voice. Seeing her cry because of him, seeing her so terrified—it does something to him.

He pulls her from her kneeled position to place her in his lap, his arms wrapping around her body to hold her close. He didn’t say a word for a while, letting her cry into his bare chest as his voice lowered, “…I’m sorry.”

She cries into his neck, clutching him tighter, feeling all of her emotions pouring through her body. Her cries are then encapsulated by his mouth as he grunts, “C’mere,” pulling her into a kiss, the mixture of her mouth trembling beneath his making him groan.

It’s messy. Her tears mixed within their kiss. Her body shaking between his, her sobs breaking against his lips as he continues to kiss her. Toji felt a pang in his chest at the action, his arms pulling her body closer to his, fingers tightening around the shirt she wore. His injured body ached, but having her so close to him like this was worth it.

Toji’s hand moves to the side of her face, pulling her in for a deeper kiss, tongue dragging her mouth around with his. She tasted like warmth, a home that he never knew.

His free palm comes under her shirt, gripping the skin of her ass to twist her back onto the bed, body now hovered above hers. She quickly hesitates against his mouth, “Your stitches, Fushiguro…” pressing her hand along his chest, not wanting to hurt him.

“Did I say you hurt me?”

“No—“

“So give me your mouth, I want you bad as fuck right now,” his nose nuzzles against her neck, the ticklish pleasure making her eyes roll back slightly.

She pulls face down to meet him, bringing her lips close to his mouth as she says softly, “Go slow, please…” pressing their noses together, breathing hesitantly against his mouth.

Toji’s face darkens, his eyes looking intensely as his pupils dilate. He wasn’t exactly a gentle man—but he wanted to try for her sake.

He clutches Sayuki by her neck as he pulls their lips back together, the weight of his body overpowering even as he tries to be soft. His hand presses against the bare skin of her hip, dragging his thumb along the goosebumps forming. Sayuki’s vision flicks to the mirror above, engraving the ink along his back in her brain—the colors— she locks her fingers in his hair to have his mouth fall more into hers, dropping her lower lip to release a shaky breath.

Toji’s hair was soft between her fingers while his touch was firm along her hip. His tongue flicks out to catch her mouth just before it leaves his.

She reaches below herself as she arches her back off of the bed, face warm as she pulls the end of her shirt upward, peeling the material from her skin. To see his glare at the sight of her, she pulls his shoulder down to press her chest to his, hating how he stared.

“Don’t do that,” he grunts, raising himself back up, pulling one of her hands above her head as he slips his fingers through, eyes burning at the sight of her bare skin. Her brown nipples, caramel skin, she’s glowing beneath the dim light of the bedroom.

His mouth travels, sucking her nipples in between his full lips, her body arching towards him the more he lowers himself. His arm holding one of her hands keeps her in place, her body wanting to pull away, contrasting as she also wanted to have him closer.

Toji’s tongue is rough and wet, tracing the skin of her neck line and collarbone. He wanted more of her—all of her. Her taste and her body makes his head spin.

“I can’t fuckin’ get enough of you.”

The sound of his voice makes her breathing become heavy, her thighs shuddering as he makes out with the skin of her leg, swirling his tongue up to her ankles, kissing along her feet—he was everywhere. It makes her grip the material of the sheet beneath her, his mouth gliding down to the back of her thigh, making her shakily release, “T—Toji…”

He loves the sound of his name on her lips, almost as much as he loves the taste of her skin. Her body shivers beneath his touch, her toes curling as he leaves a trail of kisses all the way back up her leg.

He growls against her, “Say my name again.”

His large frame is able to keep the intertwine of their palms together as lowers himself down, locking his other palm against the back of her thigh, tugging her lower half even closer. Her heart beating in her ears nearly implodes the moment she feels his mouth drag up the folds of her pussy that keeps her clit hidden, and she full on gasps, the sound shuddering as her head knocks back against the pillow, breathlessly whining a repetition of his name.

“T—Toji!…”

She’s warm and wet—thighs shaking as he holds her by the ankles, locking her knees against the sheets of the bed, tugging her down to meet the lap of his tongue. It’s flat against the nub of her clit that swells at the connection, her arousal collecting against his jaw, Sayuki’s skin trembling involuntarily as he’s already slurping.

She couldn’t remember the last man in between her legs. But Toji knew exactly what he was doing. She wants to snap her legs together, warmth forming along her cheeks as she desperately reaches for his hair, taking the air out of the room with her pouty gasps. His hands grip her ankles tighter, the spread of her legs making his mouth become even deeper. Toji grunts as his nose pressed into her slick folds, tip of his tongue circling the sensitive bud before sucking it gently between his lips, giving opened mouthed kisses.

"’Pussy never tasted like this,” he groans against her heated flesh, his voice low and husky with desire, “I could eat this shit all fuckin night."

He’s back to lapping at her, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick drags, almost lost within her taste.

She shudders, “W—wait— baby—“ the pet name falls from her lips naturally, although she’s shy to release it, another pant coming from her as he raises her legs right in front of her face, closing them in so she isn’t able to see him eating away at her.

She whimpers as her knees press a bit to her chest, dragging her nails against the skin of her thigh, laying her head against the pillow as she forces herself to fully relax. Her eyes flutter shut as she whines again, “Go slow, baby…” she keeps reminding him.

A deep growl vibrates through his throat, “Sensitive as fuck,” the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through her wet heat as he continues his assault. He’s pushing his mouth deeper, swirling his tongue around languidly, slow in his speed, weight in his efforts. He suckles the sensitive nub greedily, his lips sealing around it as he applies just the right amount of pressure.

The way he listens, his mouth runs off against her as he groans, grinding her hips to lead back onto his tongue, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, baby—fuck,” sucking her pussy so sensually into his mouth, the sounds it creates—she does the worry of her pleas as her eyes come down, watching as she gushes unexpectedly into his mouth. Her upper body arches up as she trembles, gasping deeply within her throat as she cums.

A moan flies from her lips when she feels him spank her, leaning up to capture the broken sounds she makes, dragging his palms along the back of her knees, already locking her legs over his wide shoulders. Her mind is within a pleasured frenzy, and she has to tug her fingers back into gripping his hair, giving herself a sense of control as she pants again, “S—Slow, baby…please…”

Toji was anything but slow, his mind hazy and cloudy as he felt his body throb with need. She was soft—like everything he could’ve ever needed.

His lips, wet and lush, move against her, a small grunt leaving his mouth, “I hear you,” he mumbles against her skin like a prayer, his hands gripping her waist to pull her further against him. Her eyes knocked down to him removing his pants, hearing the slap of his tip kiss his abdomen briefly—it’s heavy, smacking politely against her clit, but the size made it impolite.

He pulls his mouth back from hers, pressing their foreheads together to listen to her breathing, pleas within the music of her voice. It’s as if time halts itself, Toji taking her free hand and locking it back above her head with his, his other hand wrapping along her ankle, pressing it farther into the bed. His face frowns atop of hers, keeping a focused attention as his tip nudges in between her sensitive folds—Her lower body aches with a rush of pleasure as he sinks himself in, mixed with an erotic pain she hadn’t felt in so long. Her eyes fall shut as her head falls back into the pillow, her body shuddering as she whimpers, twisting his hair within her fingers as she knocks her forehead back to his.

Their lips brush along each other as he rolls his hips forward, spreading her legs wider, it makes her stutter out a whimper again, “Baby—I can’t—Mmmph,” squeezing his palm as he holds her down, feeling as she tries to escape.

“‘Not even in your shit for ‘real, baby,” he grunts against her lips, “Make this dick yours, you got more to take.”

She moans brokenly at his voice, pulling his mouth down towards her throat, “M—move….”

Toji’s head drops into her neck, his teeth dragging against the spot where a violet bruise laid. Her cries were pretty, but her moans were prettier.

He holds her in place as he pulls his head back to glance at her face, her skin flushed with heat.

“It’s mine now, huh?” he asks, his voice low.

Her face is warm, pulling his mouth back to hide her expression within his neck, sucking the skin there as she pitifully gasped in response to him grinding himself forward, feeling an arrogance pooling within his body.

Toji moans, his ego growing even more as he feels her mouth against his neck. She’s marking him just as much as he’s marking her, his head feeling fuzzy for more than one reason. He moves a hand to her jaw, his fingers gently holding her chin between his forefinger and thumb to force her face to his, “Let me see that pretty ass face.”

Her teary eyes blink up at him, bringing her tongue forward as she slides it along his mouth, essentially begging for a kiss.

Her tongue against his makes something in his brain short-circuit, his eyes closing as he opens his mouth and gives in to the plea, chuckling in between, “‘Needy as fuck for my mouth, even now.”

It’s hot, wet and messy, both of them pressing their lips together to taste each other in a way that will never be enough.

She whimpers to him, “Don’t laugh at me…” dragging her nails lightly along his back, trying not to form her mouth into a pout.

Toji’s eyes open in time to see the pout against her lips, he can’t help but release a low chuckle again at the sight of it.

“I’d never,” he grunts, leaning in close enough that their noses brush together, a small grin on his face, “I need you too, baby. Talk to me.”

Her voice is small, her panting heavy within her chest as she keeps her nose brushed against his, admitting to him, “It f—feels good…”

Toji’s cheek presses further into hers, his face becoming stoic again, a sense of hunger returning. He’s gentle with his touch, his mind completely focused as he absorbs himself in her pleasured noises.

“Yeah? Not hurtin’ you?” he asks, his voice gruff in her ear, his teeth nipping at the skin of her earlobe.

She shakes her head, pressing a soft kiss along his lips as she whimpers, “Just squeezing too hard on my wrist, baby…”

His grip instantly loosens from her wrists as her admission. He curses to himself, “Sorry,” he apologizes, rubbing his fingers along the skin to ease the pain from his large hands.

Feeling his attempts to be soft—it made her heart swell. A man that wasn’t emotional, wasn’t soft in the slightest, was trying just for her. It’s like crashing waves of pleasure rush her stomach as he rocks himself forward, making her deeply gasp, “R—right—t—there…”

The sound of the gasp mixed with the pleasure in her voice made Toji groan, his hips jerking against hers. He wanted her to be full of pleasure, wanted every inch of her to feel him—but the patience he had, it was leaving.

She blinked before she knew they were switching positions, trembling as she felt him smack her ass again, grunting to her, “On your stomach.”

This was…different. She’s now against her belly, chest to her back as his body hovered above. He clutches her neck from behind—his mouth is now against her ear, still using his free hand to hold her fingers against the sheets. He sinks his dick in, the heaviness of her ass clapping along his skin— her face contorts, her mouth lightly dropping as his hips become connected with the back of her thighs, tightening his palm against her throat.

His hand is firm against her throat, holding it in an intimate way that controls her. It’s possessive.

His mouth is hot against her ear, his voice a growl against her skin, “‘Just gonna have to take it,” he grunts, voice heavy and full of meaning as his hips drop down against hers, hand holding her in place, “‘Need you to feel me, baby. You feel it?”

She knew he wouldn’t be able to be gentle for long. Here it was, that cocky, dominant side he’d been holding back. The sounds she makes—they’re loud, high-pitched. She’s mewling with each stroke as he swirls his hips down, Sayuki’s eyes rolled back, listening to the sounds their skin creates against the room, arching deeper into the bed as she embarrassingly moans, “Oooh, shit. Baby—I feel you…”

He grunts in response, his teeth biting her ear as she moans. She felt so tight around him. He’s not pulling halfway out like before—he’s now pulling back until his tip is halfway inside, sharply driving back in, watching arousal squelch more and more, filling to the brim to drip against his balls. He presses his body against hers, his chest flush against her back, moving his hand to the side of her face to hold her head in place as he growls in her ear, “‘Makin’ a fuckin’ mess, baby. Can’t even think straight anymore, huh?”

Her head is leaning back against his shoulder, tilting her eyes up to look up within the mirror on the ceiling as he clutches her jaw. She watches the muscles of his back flex, the color of his tattoos all along his skin, she shudders, gasping, “Yeahh, c—can’t think…”

He catches her gaze in the mirror, watching his body, the way his muscles were flexing. She’s staring at him, him—and the action makes his brain feel like it’s overheating.

“You lookin’?” he groans, her voice wrecked as his grip on her jaw tightens.

She’s clawing at the sheets beneath her, inhaling deep, gasping dangerously as she whines, “Y—Yeah….don’t stop. Don’t stop…” she feels tears brimming within her eyes, a pleasure erupting within her body she’d never felt before.

She's sniffling, trembling, a small sob pulling from her lips, reaching behind to clutch for his hair again, pulling his mouth down to her throat. He’s cooing in her ear, “I know, baby.”

She drags her fingers into his scalp as she turns her head, “Kiss me,” she begs, rolling her hips back, “Please…”

Her back is arched against him, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat, watching the way her ass recoils against his skin—It drives him wild.

His nose slides against her face to reach for her mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips, the kiss filthy and raw. He grunts to her, “Gonna fuckin’ marry you, gonna’ kiss you like this at our fuckin’ wedding.”

He chuckles against her shuddering body, watching as she holds onto him for dear life. He won’t stop talking, “You never answered my question. This shit mine, huh?”

She’s full on crying, so wrapped up in the pleasure he gives her— her cheek is along the sheet of the bed, his body following down with hers, pressing his cheek against her jaw, dropping his hips down, earning a squeal in response. She groans, letting the sound drag into a loud moan, clutching her hand over her mouth as she softly cries, “I’m yours, fuck…don’t s—stop…”

His. She's his. The thought is almost his undoing, his heart beating heavily against his chest as he feels her crying, her body clinging to him like she’s lost if he leaves her.

Her voice is broken as he speaks, a whine from the back of her throat as she tightens around him, “You hear me? I’m gonna marry your ass. Never gonna’ fuckin’ leave. Always gonna fuck you like this.”

He watches her tears stream down her face from the mirror above him, a dark desire stirring within him. It’s a gorgeous sight—her completely and utterly ruined from his touch.

He grunts into her ear, “You gonna’ say yes?”

His palm locks around her parted mouth, sliding his fingers on her tongue, using the leverage to yank her back, skin applauding like gunshots within the room. The scent of his body is all around her, she’s moaning, turning her head back to look at him, “Yes ...yes…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You mean it?”

She can feel her hips falling into his, body becoming exhausted as she trembles, the scream that attempts to release from her lips inhales into a gasp, pulling her mouth down to muffle her sounds as she softly cries, “Mean it, Toji…”

Her words leave her in a whimper, the sound mixed into a sobbed moan, Toji can’t think—He feels like he’s on fire. The pleasure, emotions that course within their body come together in another kiss, her entire body spasming beneath him as she orgasms. Her sobs, her trembling, he can feel it, smell it, taste it.

He whispers in her ear as he holds her, groaning as he releases with her, his voice completely wrecked, “Fuck—I got you, baby.”

There’s nothing left but their shaking bodies, their tangled limbs wrapped together, panting breaths, and the sound of the two against each other. He can’t get his arms to leave her.

She grazes her nails along his arm, trying to take control of her breath as she whispers, “Gonna’ put me in a headlock if you told me any tighter…”

He loosens his grip, shifting to turn her body to face him without separating. He’s still inside her, and he won’t budge. He wipes his thumb along the tears on her face, “My bad, pretty.”

She frowns, “When’d you get soft on me? Didn’t know I’d have such a sweet bean of a husband,” she giggles, seeing him raise his eyebrow at that.

He hates that something in his heart melts at her words—but just like a man—he has to circle back to another point of her sentence.

“Just when I was gonna’ be nice and ask what size ring you wear,” he smacks his lips, Sayuki gasping as he wraps his fingers along the back of her neck, pressing her face down into the sheets, “Now’ I gotta remind you who I am. Put that ass up, I’m not done with you yet.”

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro x black reader #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro

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maniculum · 11 months ago

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A post of mine from several months ago about the Perlesvaus self-rearranging forest just wandered across my dash again and made me think about it some more, so I wanted to talk about it a bit.

Perlesvaus, for those who don’t know, is a 13th-century French Arthurian romance. It’s intended to be a continuation of Chretien de Troyes’s Perceval, but it’s mostly known for being completely batshit when it’s known at all. (There’s an old book on Arthurian texts that dedicates a chapter to Perlesvaus and repeatedly speculates that the anonymous author had Something Wrong With Him. This is the longest scholarly treatment of Perlesvaus I’ve been able to find & read.)

Anyway, there’s an odd worldbuilding detail in the text. See, it’s a Thing in chivalric romances that the questing knights happen upon castles & lords & damsels & such that are unfamiliar to them and have to be explained. You know, “this is the Castle of Such-and-Such, where the local custom is as follows. It’s ruled by Lady So-and-So, whose character I shall now describe to you.”

This is a genre convention that largely goes unquestioned, but it’s a bit odd if you think about it. All these knights are at least minor nobility. They don’t know the other nobles in their region? They don’t know what castles are where? Don’t they have, like, diplomatic relations with these people or at least attend the same tournaments? Even if they’re all fully committed to the knight-errant lifestyle and don’t really engage in courtly diplomacy, you’d think they would share information with each other and get the lay of the land. But instead, to use TTRPG terminology, it’s like they’re all on a hexcrawl that was randomly generated just for them to have these adventures.

The author of Perlesvaus decides to address this. In what’s kind of a throwaway paragraph late in the text, he explains that God moves things around so knights always have new quests to do (and, presumably, is also making sure they always arrive at the right narratively-significant moment). So the reason they’re always encountering people & places they have no knowledge of is because those people & places really weren’t there yesterday. They didn’t know about the Castle of Such-and-Such because it’s normally a thousand miles away and the forest path they followed to get there used to lead somewhere else.

And I think that would be a really interesting thing to stick into a novel or a TTRPG or something. When a knight rides into the forest with the intent of Going On A Quest, at some point they go around a bend in the path, cross an invisible barrier, and wind up in the Forest of Narrative. This is a vast forest with no set geography, filled with winding paths and populated almost entirely with questing knights, damsels in search of questing knights, friendly hermits, strange creatures, and allegorical set-pieces. Then, at the narratively-appropriate time, they cross back over the invisible barrier back into the regular world, and find themselves wherever the Narrative has decided they need to be. This could be a different country, a different continent, or a different world entirely.

Whether anyone involved is actually aware that this is how it works is… optional, really. Though if it’s not a Known Phenomenon, the people whose jobs it is to handle trade & diplomacy & god forbid, maps, are going to end up tearing their hair out in frustration.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 month ago

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The Yeti's Cave

Yandere Male Yeti x Gender Neutral Reader CW: Noncon, pleasurable sex, oil like precum, size difference, rut, language barrier, kidnapping, general yandere behavior Word Count: 1.1k (Took a tiny break from comms to give you guys a winter fic that I hope you will all enjoy. Not my best work, but I hope it will feed you. I am sorry I have been writing so slow lately.)

It was winter in the town of Whelm. Not too unpleasant. Rather cozy, to be perfectly honest. Curled up by the fire. But Whelm was in the valley. Winter in the northern mountains was a frigid hell that few would venture into.

But you had to. A week before cold weather had hit there was a messenger from the village on the other side of the treacherous mountains. A sickness had taken hold, they had urgent need of medicines that could only be crafted from ingredients found around the valley. But it took time to gather and collect such supplies when they were needed at such scale.

You were the apprentice to the wizened old apothecary. A seemingly ancient man who had taught you as much as he could about collecting medicinal herbs, preparing them, and administering them. Seeing as he was so old, only you could make the trip and treat the villagers past the mountain.

You managed to make it there in time. But while you were on your way back home winter kissed the region.

Caught in a flurry of stinging wind and violent snow you barely managed to make it into the relative safety of an odd smelling cave. You wrapped your coat tightly around you. Was this how you were going to go out? Trapped in a cave with limited supplies? Slowly fading into the cold in a weird smelling cave?

As it happened, no.

There was a loud rumbling growl from deep within the cave. Your eyes widened, but you told yourself it was just the wind entering the deeper reaches of your makeshift shelter and making weird noises. But then you heard it again, louder this time.

From the depths emerged a fearsome beast the likes of which you had only heard rumors of. A hulking form, rippling muscles apparent even under thick white fur, a human-like face with sharp teeth and icy blue eyes, and two curled horns atop a shaggy mane of long white hair.

Despite the cold, that got your blood flowing and your heart flowing, you were out and in the snow immediately. A possible death in the cold mountains was better than a certain death by that man-like beast.

Ikkan, the yeti who you had run from, was worried. You were an odd thing that he had never encountered before. But you clearly had no proper fur except what was on your head, and your artificial covering didn’t seem all that effective. You’d freeze out there!

And thus he made it his mission to go and retrieve you.

And he succeeded. Expeditiously.

He dragged you back, kicking and screaming, into his cave. Deeper into it. He held you down on his fur-lined bed with the hope it would warm you up. He also cuddled close, though you still struggled despite his good intentions.

Ikkan decided he would take care of you and you could be his tiny mate. He was lonely, in rut, and you’d definitely die without him to care for you during this harsh time of year. Besides, some part of you clearly wanted him to be your husband. You had entered his den that very clearly smelled of him, after all.

In an effort to calm you down he tried to communicate with you, but each harsh guttural word sounded like a threat to your ears. You were convinced he had saved you to eat you later.

He moved on to offering you food and water but you wouldn’t give up your resistance.

Maybe you were having trouble understanding that he wasn’t intending to hurt you? That he just wanted to be the best he could be for his small mate. How could he get his intent through to you? The answer was clear! He just had to give you some high quality sex! Yeti cum would keep you cozy and you’d know exactly what he wanted to do with you.

You kicked and squirmed as the large furry thing held you down and removed your clothing. His huge cock had come out of its sheath, making his plan for you exceedingly clear. You tried to kick him away but he held you still and patiently applied precum to your hole and massaged it in to lubricate your tight entrance.

Since you were so much smaller than he was he knew you’d need some special attention before slipping into you.

He added his thick saliva to the mix and eventually got to the point where he could easily slip in several fingers into your twitching little hole, making you gasp when he wiggled them around inside of you.

Ikkan knew his little human was ready. He sat on his large bed of furs and pulled you close, planting you firmly on his cock while nestling your shivering body into his warm chest. It really felt amazing. Inside and out. He was surprisingly soft and his touch warmed you quickly.

At the same time, his cock continuously exuded warm oily precum that heated you up from the inside out. He fucked away your resolve in record time. It was clear to you now that he was in no way trying to injure you. Unless you counted having your senses fucked out of you. You wrapped your arms around him and nuzzled into his cozy chest. You even began bouncing on his big cock, desperately trying to get it deeper inside you despite your earlier protests.

The yeti smirked, he knew you’d love his dick.

Ikkan was overjoyed to give his human what they wanted. He quickened the pace and went a bit harder, holding your sides as he began really fucking into you. Blush crept across your face as the two of you came together. The pair of you shivered not from cold, but from pure pleasure.

He cuddled you as you leaned on him with his slowly softening cock still in you before eventually pulling out and laying you on his bed of furs. Strangely, your body seemed to have somehow absorbed the cum and it kept you well heated without the need for your clothing.

For the moment, your brain was overstimulated and you had not fully processed what had happened. But that didn’t matter much to Ikkan, he would take the opportunity to get some food and water in you and if he noticed you becoming bratty again he would just give you some more top tier yeti cock.

You didn’t know when spring would usher in better weather. And it didn’t really matter, because no matter what happened, you would never be leaving.

#yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #yandere yeti #yeti x reader #My OC Ikkan

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strangererotica · 9 months ago

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: You and Eddie spend some ‘quality time’ together in his van on a stormy afternoon 😘 Includes oral sex (f receiving) face-sitting, masturbation, squirting, unprotected p in v sex

It’s a gorgeous, stormy afternoon in Hawkins. Heavy rainfall drums against the roof of Eddie’s van, trickling down its fogged-up windows. The two of you are wrapped together under a blanket in the back, stripped to your underwear. Eddie’s hands run along your back as you lay over him, his fingers working your bra undone. He succeeds at unhooking it and the bra slides down, the fat of your breasts now pressed against his bare skin. Your breath hitches when your peaked nipples meet the coarse hair on Eddie’s chest. Every part of you seems on fire, sensitive and filled with need. Eddie can feel your arousal, one of his thighs situated between yours, the warmth of your soaked panties wetting his leg…

His breath is warm and moist on your neck, raising goosebumps across your skin. Eddie’s lips suck gently along the base of your throat, traveling down your chest till he’s massaging your breast in his mouth. You keen into his tongue, gliding your nipple against the soft, wet pad. Lightning strikes close by, the rumble of thunder vibrating the backseat under your bodies. Eddie slides his lips off your breast, his eyes wide with mischief. “That was a big one, huh?” he murmurs up at you. Adjusting yourself on top of Eddie, you’re now straddling his bulge instead of his thigh. He groans as you bear down on his stiff cock, the fat outline prominently tenting his boxers. “Yeah, it is a big one,” you respond, using Eddie’s previous words.

He holds you at the waist, rolling his hips upward, grinding you over his bulge. The rain grows stronger along with the wind, whipping against the sides of Eddie’s van. He gently eases you off of him for a second, gazing between your bodies at the soaking mess you’ve made on his boxers. “Jesus Christ,” he marvels, sounding awestruck. “I don’t know if it’s wetter out there, or in here…Fuck I need to taste you…” Eddie guides your hips as you crawl up his body, till your thighs are framing his face. “Atta girl,” he mumbles into your cunt, but his words are obviously muffled by your pussy in his mouth. Eddie’s left hand squeezes at your hip, while his right hand moves to touch himself.

His eyes drift closed, his tongue lapping your cunt through your slippery panties. You sink deeper over Eddie’s face, humping his lips and chin, marking him in your scent. He’s tugging at his cock now, grunting into your wet heat as he fucks himself and you at the same time. Your fingers are locked in Eddie’s hair, his ebony curls damp with sweat. The atmosphere inside the van is extremely warm, prompting you to toss the blanket off your bodies and onto the floor. Eddie’s hand is working himself closer and closer to climax, his mouth sucking your clit through your panties with the same goal. The underwear is completely saturated by this point, a useless barrier between your cunt and Eddie’s mouth. When you come, your orgasm fucking drenches Eddie, the slippery liquid running down his cheeks and neck.

Eddie flips you over, pulling his cock from his boxers and tugging the sopping crotch of your panties aside. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, begging him to fill you up, and he readily obliges. Eddie enters you easily in one thrust, his hands clutching your ankles for leverage as he pumps your cunt full of his release. He lays over you, panting and chuckling into your hair, “fuck sweetheart, m’sorry I came so quick. Y’just squeezed me so good, couldn’t help myself…”

Eddie slides a hand between your bodies to pull his dick out of you, his fingers grazing your clit in the process. A little gasp leaves your body at the contact; Eddie smiles up at you wickedly, that mischievous look in his eyes again. “Aww,” he coos. “Looks like you’ve got one more in there for me, huh princess?”

Before you can respond, Eddie’s already moved backward in the seat, nuzzling your belly on the way down to your pussy. He peels the ruined panties off of you, slathering your legs in your juices as he pulls them off and tosses the soaked fabric to the floor. Eddie rests on his elbows in front of your ass, and burrows his face between your legs.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in Eddie’s wet mass of curls as he eats you. Heavy rain pummels the roof of Eddie’s van as his tongue bullies its way inside your pussy. It’s almost too much, the way he forces his tongue in and out of you. Eddie isn’t content with licking your clit; he literally has to fuck you with his mouth before he’s satisfied with his work. He knows from experience that you have the strongest orgasms when he pumps his tongue in and out of you like this, rubbing the tip against your g-spot, licking you from the inside out. Your hold tightens in Eddie’s hair, your cunt gripping his tongue as its thrusts continue.

Rutting yourself against his face, your clit bumps Eddie’s nose just as his tongue reaches the deepest place inside you yet. Your climax streaks through you like a bolt of lightning painting the sky, your creamy walls twisting and clenching around Eddie’s tongue. He grins into your cunt as you soak his face again, getting off on the vibrations of your orgasm he can feel through his tongue.

Eddie licks soft stripes up and down your pussy as your orgasm fades, pressing feather-light kisses onto your clit. “Good job, baby,” he says, lifting his head from between your legs. “I knew y’had another one in you…”💋

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nottswitch · 3 months ago

Note

Hey! Can you do 46 and 6 with theo (smut and fluff like he's really just wanna help his girl <3 thankssss

heyyy, thanks for your request <3 love this, need theo to help me when i get cold ngl… also, this is based on real life experience, bc guess who also forgets to close the window for the night?

6. "let me help." 46. "it’s so cold."

warnings: 18+ mdni, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; theo m.list ; prompts (closed)

it was kind of stupid, how you kept forgetting to close the window for the night, especially now that it was november, infamous for its cold and gloomy nature. and once again, you woke up with a shiver, feeling your teeth chatter as soon as your brain fully turned on. your feet, despite being clad in fuzzy socks, were freezing, causing you to pull the blanket down a bit. it made the fabric slide off your shoulder, eliciting a frustrated groan from you. you just couldn’t win.

you were a bit relieved when you felt theo’s firm and warm body cuddling up to you from behind, his arm wrapped around your waist, his breath warming up your neck. the shivers he was giving you were definitely much more pleasant than the ones from the biting wind blowing through the window.

you hummed softly as you felt theo’s morning wood prodding your ass, the fabric of his sweatpants being the only barrier between your bodies. he moved his hips lazily and slowly against you, letting you feel every inch of him, while his lips started a wet trail from behind your ear down to the crook of your neck.

you sucked in a sharp breath when you felt the chilly air brush wet patches of skin left after theo’s gentle mouth. "it’s so cold," you complained, pressing yourself further into his chest, which caused the friction between your bottom and his length to increase. theo’s cock reacted by twitching and straining more against his sweatpants, the movements against you still lazy and slow, but growing a bit firmer.

"let me help, hm?" theo murmured into your neck. his hand gently pressed on your side, turning you so that you’d be laid out on your back. his form covered you fully from the top, the weight of him instantly making you warmer, as well as the heat pooling between your legs at the kisses he kept planting on your neck.

theo’s hand traveled down your body, careful not to lift your sweater up. as much as he’d want to feel your skin, he cared about you not catching the cold way more. finally, his fingers grazed the waistband of your pajama bottoms, pulling them down just enough for him to be able to slide between your legs.

"sorry, tesoro," he whispered, feeling shivers running up your thighs once the freezing air of the room touched your skin. "i’ll warm you up in a sec, alright?"

you nodded, smiling when he pulled the blanket from the sides, tucking it under your body. now the two of you were in a soft cocoon, your bodies flush against each other, creating even more warmth. you missed the moment when theo pulled down his sweatpants, whining quietly at the feeling of his flushed and throbbing cock suddenly right at your core. the heat of his arousal contrasted with the coldness of precum leaking from his tip, sending another small shiver through you.

your moan at theo’s slow entrance inside was eagerly swallowed by his lips, capturing yours in a soft, tender kiss. the movements of his hips were slightly constricted by the blanket tightly wrapped around you, but it didn’t prevent him from giving you all the pleasure you needed. on the contrary, the tip of his cock was forced to stay deep inside of you, constantly hitting the sweetest spots and bringing you to the edge quicker than usual.

theo planted kissed all over your face, keeping his lips unusually dry in order not to give you more chills. your hands gripped his sweatshirt on his back, your mouth at his ear as you moaned out a quiet "close, teddy…" you felt the vibration of theo’s contented hum against your cheek, and his soft "cum for me, amore" in response. your orgasm washed over you in a wave of heat, causing some sweat to break out on your neck and chest. the sweater you had on started to itch a bit due to the dampness of your skin underneath it, almost causing you to miss theo spilling into you with a quiet groan of his own.

"warmer now, tesoro?" he asked, looking at your flushed face with an adoring smile, his hand coming up to wipe away the small droplets of sweat dripping down your forehead.

you nodded, leaning into his touch, but then chuckled softly, glancing at the still-open window, where the rain could be heard rattling against the windowsill. "you know you could’ve just closed the window, right?" you asked, looking back at theo with a smirk, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth as your eyes studied his also flushed and sweaty face.

"yeah, but…" he drawled, giving you a small kiss between the words. "where’s the fun in that?"

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moonstruckme · 3 months ago

Note

You asked for holiday fic ideas…

I was thinking ice skating with lanky Remus and he’s just so good at it and it’s shocking but clumsy reader keeps falling down. Just something fluffy and cute

(I know ice skating isn’t technically just for the holidays but that’s what I think of typically)

Love you darling <3

I think of ice skating that way too! Thanks for requesting <3

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 548 words

“You weren’t supposed to be so graceful, you know.”

Remus smiles, skating alongside you while you grip the wall of the small outdoor rink for support. Sunlight refracts off the ice, making it look glittery and almost blindingly white, and at the top of the rink is stationed a plump fir tree, standing tall despite the oversized ornaments weighing it down. It had been your idea to book the two of you an hour-long slot in the rink, and you’d been even more excited about the plan when you found that Remus, like you, had never been ice skating before. Unfortunately, it seems he’s let you down by not being a complete disaster at it.

“Would you rather I was falling all over the place?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you answer. No hesitation, but you make it up a sheepish smile. “You have a higher center of gravity. It doesn’t seem fair that you’re naturally gifted.”

“Right, I see. I’ll try to make more of an oaf of myself.”

“I’d appreciate if you would.” You’re smiling. It crinkles the corners of your eyes adorably. “We were supposed to hold hands and be awkward and clumsy together. It’s not cute if it’s only me.”

“Of course it is,” Remus says, softly enough that you look at him like you’ve not quite heard. He touches your shoulder fondly. “I’m sorry to have ruined your plan. We can still hold hands, if you like.”

You look like you’re considering it, but you don’t take your hand more than a few inches away from the barrier before it’s flying back. “Thanks, but I think I need them both.”

Remus can see how you would. You’d given ice skating a valiant effort, but after a series of falls he’s sure will result in a patchwork of bruises around your knees for him to kiss later, the wall has become your most treasured ally.

“Do you want me to grab something that will help?”

“If you mean one of those penguins the kids are using, I’m going to cut our hour short.”

Remus chuckles. “We can go, if you want to.” Although the sun feels nice, the wind is cold. He’s willing to bet that if he pinched the tip of your nose between his fingers it’d be half frozen.

You look over at him in surprise, then soften. “I don’t actually want to leave,” you say. “I was only joking. This is fun.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know, are you having fun?”

“I am,” Remus admits. “But I can stand on my own two legs. Are you having fun?”

You shoot him a playful glare, but your smile undermines it. “Yeah.” You shrug, self-conscious. “I mean, I’m a bit edgy, but I’m still glad we’re here. I always have fun with you.”

Without his permission, a coo comes from between Remus’ lips. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, careful not to put any weight on you as he kisses your head. “Oh, you’re such a melt,” he says into your hair, teasing. You laugh but don’t push him away.

Eventually, you let him take your hands. Remus isn’t good enough to skate backwards, so you stick close to the wall, wobbly and faltering, but that’s alright. Now you’re awkward and clumsy together.

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whirlybirbs · 6 months ago

Text

— BRUISED EGO ; PART TWO ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: he should have waited for you. but no, toshinori felt like he had something to prove. now, roles are reversed and he needs your help. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 5k tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (male receiving), piv, sex pollen trope but make it canon specific, dirty talk, praise kink, denied feelings, deeply needy fucking, size difference, toshinori being a good old fashioned lover-boy (again), enemies-to-coworkers-to-lovers hits hard a/n: oh wow a part two,,, i'm sick in the head ← previous | the tag

This ain't great.

This is, uh, bad actually.

Like, Toshinori has absolutely no idea what to do, bad.

For Christ's sake, he's All Might. He should have known better. He should have known to wait for you — but no, he just had to calm his nerves by beginning your usual shared patrol an hour early.

It's been one week, two days, six hours, and thirty-seven minutes since he last saw you. Not that he's counting. It's not like he's suddenly acutely aware of the time he's spent apart from you, or anything.

Japan is locked in a heatwave.

(Or, maybe it's just the fever in his bones.)

Large, calloused palms dig into his eyes as he leans back against the rooftop's barrier and groans. Toshinori drops his head against the iron railing in defeat, sending a twang through the hot air. Sweat is running down his back beneath his suit, tracing the curve of his spine.

Oh, and he's hard.

Painfully hard.

Like he said, this ain't great.

The call went out that they spotted the same love quirk user from last week holding some sex workers at gunpoint. He should have waited. The two of you could have handled him easily.

But, no. Toshi had to go and think he had something to prove.

He groans again, pounding his knuckles to the gravel.

It's going to be all over the evening news. That clip of him, panicking, and absolutely decking the very-much-not-a-real-violent-threat-of-a-man in the face on reflex after being hit with his quirk. He couldn't help it. It was like... a knee-jerk. It's like suddenly you're being touched everywhere and nowhere. It's strange. Sort of violating. It... I-It was just all he could do, okay?

And he apologized! Plenty! A-And Officer Tsukauchi said it was fine, that he had it handled, as a bunch of officers began to help the now-unconscious offender out of the storefront's debris.

...Toshinori's phone is ringing.

He has half the mind to ignore it.

But it's the guitar riff from 'Bad to the Bone'.

It's you.

He barks out a huffed 'shit' before digging his phone from the pocket in his belt. Even your picture glowing alongside the phone call notification is enough to make his cock throb.

It's not even racy. It's blurry. It's in the All Might Agency's lobby. You're smiling. It's such a rare sight. You're holding up your official hero license and a big thumbs up.

He took the picture a few years ago. It was a big deal, a huge win. Your hair was a little shorter, and your hands weren't as scarred from Pro-Hero work as they are now. And god, that smile.

...Jesus, you're just happy and he's this horny?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Toshinori picks up on the last ring.

"Where the hell are you?" comes your voice, cutting through the sound of wind — he can hear the thrum of your bike's engine in the background, "I've been looking all over for you, and I just got a call from Tsukauchi — are you alright?"

The sound of your voice is making his mouth dry.

"I'm fine."

He's not fine.

He's sitting here, aroused out of his mind and in pain, trying to battle through the mind-numbing, knuckle-breaking heat of desire. He can't even come close to the word 'fine'. He's a mess. All he can do is sit here and sweat because he knows no amount of trying to jerk off is going to solve this problem.

He's so not fine.

You can tell.

Tsukauchi gave few details — just that whatever the hell happened sent All Might hightailing it outta there. And, after getting a brief description of the prep, you had a pretty good idea why.

Your fingers twitch against the throttle.

"Send me your location," you say sternly; the glint of your helmet's visor catches the passing lights of traffic as you talk into the built-in comms system, "I'm coming to get you."

"No," he grits out, tugging on a piece of his blonde fringe, "N-No. I'll be fine. I-I am fine. Just need some time—"

"Toshinori," you bark back as you check for an opening between cars; your whole body is hot and it's not just from the summer heat, "I'm not asking. Let me help."

...Oh.

Help. Right.

It's ambiguous and sort of ominous but, if he squints, it's the first time either of you has even come close to talking about what happened last week. Y'know. When he kissed you in your entryway, the way he ate you out on your couch, or the way he absolutely fucked your brains out in your bed. All because you had been hit with the same quirk influence he's riding out now.

His location pings up on your visor's HUD.

"Be there in five."

And you hang up.

Because — I mean, what else is there to say? You are going to do what you have to to help him. Just like he did for you. Then, maybe it will be even! And then, maybe, this feeling that has been eating your heart away for the last week will disappear. Right? And things will go back to normal!

...Right?

Ha! B-Because, yea, that feeling is definitely guilt, right? Like... You... uh. You feel bad. Because... he had to... help. And you haven't helped him. Right. Yes.

Yep.

Not because you can't stop thinking about his hands on your face, cradling you tenderly as he drove himself deep into you. Not because you can't stop thinking about the way he looked up at you with his tongue flat on your clit. Not because you can't stop thinking about his voice, or his smile, or his laugh, or his—

The telltale roar of a motorcycle sets Toshinori Yagi's stomach ablaze.

Immediately, the air gets thicker like the feeling before a summer thunderstorm. He knows you're here. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and before he can rub the feeling away, you're there.

On the roof.

"You look..." you breathe out as your feet touch down with a crackle of lightning crescendoing around you, "Like shit."

(Truly he looks divine. Rosey cheeks, his chest heaving. His eyes are half-lidded. There's a bead of sweat that runs down his jaw, down down down, down his neck, then disappears beneath the collar of his suit.)

Toshi sighs. It's a ragged sound. He pulls his knees up, trying his best to hide the apparent tenting across the front of his hero costume. He scrapes his rough palm down his face.

"Don't start—"

"Did I look this bad?" you ask, voice hiking an octave as you move towards him. You keep an even distance. Your face is morphed into a look of pity, but there's something in your voice that makes the knot in Toshinori's gut wind tighter, "He got you good, huh, Tosh'?"

He can't do nicknames right now.

"Ha, ha," he grits out, the trademarked All Might boisterousness dying in favor of the lackluster, dry humor he was born with, "You're real funny, zippy."

It's your favorite flavor of him. The man is out of the limelight. Though he may still be bigger than life biceps and thick steel-corded quads, the facade has fallen.

"And you're a mess," you sigh as you squat down, rummaging in your pack for something. It's a water bottle. You offer it as you watch him.

The condensation kisses his fingertips as he takes it and pops it open.

He takes a long drink, caps it off, then presses the cold bottle to the back of his neck. It does little to dissipate the tension in his broad shoulders. The sensation arguably makes it worse. Another bead of sweat runs down his back.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

We're never gonna talk about this again echoes somewhere in the back of his mind. At this rate, they're gonna have to talk about this. Because once is just a fluke. Twice is a problem. A real problem.

He places the bottle back on the ground after another long sip.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. Despite your desperate attempt to remain levelheaded, you know exactly how he's feeling at this moment. You gotta admit, his self-control dwarfs your own though. You could hardly keep your hands off him the second he walked in your door.

You wrestle your bike helmet off, and Toshinori has to quell the wave of longing that rises in his chest. Your hair is sticking to your forehead and neck. He suddenly wishes he made you look this way — windswept and sweating.

The jet-black helmet lands on the rooftop with a thwat. He can see his ragged, flushed reflection in the black visor.

Your voice is soft. "Hey."

It brings his focus back to you. His mouth is dry. Big blue eyes swivel as they rake across your face — and he hates how his cock jumps at how softly you speak next.

"What do you need right now, Toshinori?"

His chest is rising and falling a little faster. The usual steadfast expression on his face has melted into something doe-eyed and boyish. It makes your heart clench.

"Are you sure about this?" his voice cracks as he swallows roughly. It's a non-answer. It's a metaphorical boot-kicking-in-the-door, though. Toshinori rakes his hands through his hair, "I-I... I can wait it out—"

You exhale tightly; your rationale is clear. Totally unbiased and very much not rooted in an unabashed obsession with the way he touches you.

"Tosh', you helped me. I won't sit around and let you suffer when the same hand is dealt your way."

He drops his head back again. Another twang echoes through the night air.

"Plus," you offer with a slow, crooning smile, "I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

It takes a second.

Then, one blue eye cracks open. Long, dark blonde lashes flutter a bit — and then, he's smirking.

Ha.

Right.

"You sure about this?" he asks, his head still dropped back and shoulders slumped.

"Sure as I'll ever be, big man."

That's the only permission he needs.

Toshinori Yagi is fast. He has to be. He's the Number One Hero in all of Japan. Top of the popularity ranks, fan-favorite, best stats in history. Being fast is part of the gig.

He's fast to sit up and catch you in a kiss that feels like a bruise — tender and aching and miscalculated. It's teeth and tongue and then a deliciously low noise that rumbles up from his chest and sets your whole body on fire.

His grip is rough — his fingers fist your hair as he drags you closer, his mouth presses firmly to yours as you scramble against the rough rooftop. It's...

Needy.

You're crawling towards him.

"That's my line," he breathes out, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and pressing back in to steal your breath. His grip tightens in your hair. His voice is so low that it feels like someone lights a fire under your skin. It's rough and breathless and so not All Might.

"It's a good line," you mutter back as your brain stutter-steps. You pull away to crawl closer and straddle his hips. Your knees pin his cape to the gravel. You're kissing him again, letting his feverish need set the pace, "Worked on me."

You can feel him through your hero suit.

His suit's pants are thick, made of some patented material you can never remember the name of — but his arousal is more than apparent as you settle your weight down against him. The added pressure earns a throaty hum of approval.

You always forget just how big he is in this form — his hands dwarf your hips as he drags his grip down, allowing himself a little bit of an edge when he unceremoniously bucks up against you.

"Sorry," he slurs out, his boots scraping against the roof; it's utterly pathetic, "Sorry—"

"Stop apologizing," you breathe out as you follow his lead and continue the movement, grinding your hips down, "I asked what you needed—"

"Anything," Toshinori's words rush out with his blue eyes screwed closed tightly as he grips your hips and slots his mouth back against yours, "Anything you'll give me."

...How is he so romantic? Even in a moment like this? Even when he's blindly seeking friction through his pants, bucking his hips against your own, as he moans into your mouth.

"Hands? Mouth?" you parrot his line of questioning from your previous encounter; it seems to knock some sense into him.

His breath catches. Blue eyes widen minutely. You feel him twitch beneath you.

"God, mouth, please—"

Who would have ever anticipated you'd be here?

Who would have ever anticipated you'd be helping him work off his belt, work off his tactical pants? Who knew you'd be watching his taut stomach flex as you push his costume's top higher up his torso, who knew you'd be dragging his stupid All Might-themed boxers down his narrow hips to spring him free?

Who thought you'd ever see him like this, so desperate and winded and needy?

Not you, that's for sure. You never thought, in all those years you sat in prison, this would be your life shortly after: giving head — happily — to the man who put you there in the first place.

And here you are, slipping him a tentative look as you wrap a gloved hand around his hardness and smirk.

"Is this okay?" you murmur up at him, on your hands and knees. You're teasing him. He knows this.

Toshinori laughs — an incredulous bark. It's all you need to hear as confirmation.

The sound splinters into a choked moan when you bend down and take him into your mouth.

He sees stars.

This is going to be a problem.

All he can do is lean back and grip the guard rail over his head for dear life because ho-oly shit. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. His biceps go taut, his knuckles white, and he tries so hard to keep his hips still as you hum around him. His whole body shudders — his thighs tensing under your other hand as you balance above him.

This is — son of a bitch. Your grip around the base of his cock tightens incrementally, and as you lap at the head of his cock, his thoughts die in a strangled burst of pleasure.

Then, his hand lands on your cheek.

The touch is reverent. Holy. Tender and adoring.

"Jesus, Der'," he slurs out, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to keep his eyes on you; he can't stare too long. The sight is too much. Too pretty. Mouth full of him, "You're such a good girl."

There it is.

The little bit of praise he slipped you before.

If the iron rail creeks beneath his tightening grip, neither of you pays it any mind.

You're on your knees, gloved hand around his shaft, watching his face contort into something so wonderfully steeped in bliss. You've got more important things to mind rather than the structural integrity of some stupid rooftop rail.

Like the way his stomach clenches — the way his abs tighten. Like the way he says your name or the way he chokes out a nervous laugh when you take him just a litttttle deeper.

"Fucking shit," he hisses; you make a mental note to rib him for his language some other time. Hearing him curse like this is a hell of an indicator for your ego that you're doing a good job, "Der', if you keep that up—"

"What?" you rasp, spit connecting your mouth to his cock, "You'll cum?"

Something snaps.

It's a flash of red and blue and silver and blonde, his cape tearing through the air.

Suddenly, you're pinned to the rooftop — gravel scrapes as your boots kick and grapple for purchase. Your elbows scuff against the ground. The wind is swept out of your body and he's kissing you so roughly you swear you taste blood. One of his hands is locked around your jaw. You're effectively trapped.

All you can do is let out a shaky, startled, yet painfully aroused laugh.

His other hand isn't gentle — it's tearing at the bottom half of your suit, unceremoniously snapping the button of your tactical pants open and shoving his hand down the front of them. You can feel a slight shake in his fingers as they delve past your underwear and slip into your folds.

"I need you," he hisses; his eyes are dark, and you can see the edge of frustration building. You know the feeling.

Another kiss.

Suddenly, there are two fingers in you.

You whine against his mouth.

He doesn't waste any time. He can't. Not when all he can think about is splitting you open on his cock. You're right here and you're soft and beautiful and fuck, he can't even think straight when you clamp down on his middle and ring finger.

"Be nice," you warn between pants and whines and whimpers. It's an empty threat.

"Or what?" he chirps back, working his fingers in and out; his voice hitches along the syllables, trying his best to sound unaffected by the little breathy sound you let out when he kisses your jaw, "You'll cum?"

It's your turn to laugh. Your hands grapple with his cape, trying to anchor yourself in any way possible. You fist it as his fingers continue the task at hand: opening you up enough to take him. His knees nudge your legs open a little bit farther. Toshinori's body feels like it's on fire.

His heavy, hot cock drags up the inside of your thigh and he shudders.

His face is pressed to your shoulder in a flash; it's good because he doesn't see the blissful smile working its way across your face as our own arousal builds.

"You're soaking wet," he strangles out; his pride is overshadowed by the embarrassing need to have you. He feels like if he doesn't, this raging fever will just get worse and worse and worse.

"Par for the course," your words hitch on a hot wave of arousal as his palm grinds down against your clit. You grip his wrist, trying to ignore the tell-tale shake in your legs. His hand is holding your face.

"At least I'm doin' something right," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek as he relinquishes his fingers from your heat and drags your mouth across your jaw, "Y'think... Think you can...?"

Take him? Yea.

You're a brave girl.

Yea, that shouldn't be a problem.

What is a problem is your riding gear and hero suit — but Toshinori can't be bothered. He's grappling with them for you, hauling you into his arms as he drags them down enough. They get caught on the tops of your boots, but he doesn't give a shit. Not when you're here, spread, and glistening before him. Not when you're in his lap, half-dressed, and trying to maneuver yourself down onto him with some semblance of grace.

Everything is bigger when it comes to Mr. Double Detriot Smash.

Again, you're a brave girl. You're not going to shy away from the upgraded dicking down you got last week. Hell, that was great. Filled you up perfectly, and hit all the right spots... and now, you're realizing that the already tight fit is going tobe a littttle tighter.

Your knees are like jello as your fingertips dig into his shoulders. Your hair is wild — and you're sweating. He's no better off; there's a crease of worry in his brow, even amidst the blinding heat of desire that's eating him up inside.

He knows he's big. He's huge. He's...

This is the first time he's ever had sex in this empowered form.

Not like he advertises this as a service.

He'd be lying through his trademarked smile if he said he wasn't nervous — but there you go, giving him just another reason why he should buy a ring tomorrow and give you everything you've ever wanted because fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, you're so tight and hot and wet and the sound you make the second you sink down on him—

"God, yes, Tosh'."

The gasp that wrings itself from his mouth is utterly pathetic. He doesn't care. He truly can't even think straight — all he can do is dig his fingertips into your hips and slam his mouth against yours to muffle the whines crawling up his throat.

"Stay right there," you whisper; there's an edge to your voice of warning. He's trying to listen. He's trying to be a—

"Good boy."

You're holding his face and he can't seem to catch his breath. His boots scuff in the dirt, his brows knit, and he inhales sharply when you clamp down on him for good measure. Fuck. Shit. God, nonono. He needs to move. He needs — c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, please.

"Der'—"

You're kissing him again — and then you move. Slow at first, a little hiccup of your hips. Then, more assured, more confident. An easy up, then down. Then again, and again, and again. And again.

"God, yes," he nearly cries; he smothers his desperate moan into a kiss that melts away time. Toshinori's hands are trying to find purchase, trying to help guide you up and down his cock as best he can. He doesn't want you to do all the work — he wants to help, "You're so fucking good, Der'."

"Y-Yea?" you breathe out, your entire body shuddering at the praise. Your hip tightens, and you don't even have the wherewithal to consider the cramp. You're not stopping for anything.

Not when this is, like, the hottest thing you've ever done.

"You have no idea," he melts into another kiss that's all tongue and adoration, his bare thread composure snapping up like his hips in a testing manner, "Lemme fuck you, please, Der', please, please, I promise I'll be good—"

It certainly felt good.

All you can do is hold onto his shoulders.

If you've learned one thing in the time you've known Toshinori Yagi, it's that he's a man of his word. He holds promises in the deepest homes of his heart, ensuring that nothing prevents him from honoring them. He's dedicated entirely to those around him and to seeing them prevail. Toshinori, even on his worst days, never makes a promise he can't keep.

So, promising he'll be good?

I mean — it depends on the definition, doesn't it?

If 'good' is desperate, pathetic, fast drillings of his hips as you cling to him and gasp? If 'good' is filthy, muttered praise into your collarbone as he slams into you again, and again, and again?

If 'good' is scrambling in the gravel, being pressed flat as he takes you from behind?

Then, yea.

He's really good.

He's incredibly good — especially as he presses his chest to your back, and wraps his arm around your front. His fingers are greedily pushing through your folds as he keeps up his thoroughly rough pace. The thick, calloused pads of his ring and middle finger grace your clit and you nearly scream.

The gravel is biting into your knees and palms but you don't care. Not when his mouth is on your neck and he keeps saying your name over and over and over and over again as he drives you into the ground. Not Derecho. Not some tender version of a nickname.

Your name.

The hot fire of your arousal is building steadily — the wet, explicit sounds of him pushing his cock into you over and over again as he pins you are doing plenty, but it's the way he says your name that really seals your fate.

Toshinori isn't here right now. Come back in two business days. He's lost in the bone-deep influence of this quirk, hellbent on filling you up and proving he's a good boy. He can give you everything. A ring, a house, a life — three more motorbikes and whatever you want on top of that.

Fuck, he loves you.

Your fingers dig into the rooftop.

"Oh, fuck, Toshi — yes," you cry; there's a crack in your voice, "Right there. K-Keep... Keep doing that—"

"C'mon, I wanna f-feel you cum," he babbles as you bury your face into his elbow bracing his weight, "Come on, Der', you're such a good girl, you're taking me so well, I know you c-can—"

Everything is Toshinori. His breath is hot against your neck as he pants, and his voice — so low and honeyed — is right in your ear as he moans.

Even now, he's ever so selfless.

"I need you to cum first," he grits as his fingers work your clit just a little faster, "C'mon, Der', you're doing so good — you deserve it, you deserve to cum so hard—"

Your knees jerk — and the world's best orgasm rushes up to meet you headfirst. A snap of lightning ignites your skin as you lose all control, and so suddenly Toshinori is right behind you, tumbling down the white-hot bliss of the best sex he's ever had in his life.

He made you snap, he made you lose control, h-he made you cum—

His composure shatters. There's a guttural sound wrenched from deep in his chest and it's delicious. He finishes with a series of frantic thrusts that make you whine. His mouth is on your neck, your cheek, then your mouth.

You crane yourself back, humming delightfully into the kiss that quells the rolling tide of desire into something softer.

His whole body shudders as the after-quakes of your orgasm ripple along him. All Toshi can do is smother his sounds into another kiss. This one is slower. It's needy in a different way.

When the kiss finally slows, it takes a second for him to peel his eyes open.

You look thoroughly wrecked.

Your expression is that of a woman exhausted.

Toshinori is suddenly aware of his own bulk, his own weight. Gently, he presses a hand to your cheek as he pushes himself up and off of you. His muscles burn — and pulling out of you makes his entire chest ache.

The feeling wrings a gasp out of you.

You exhale slowly, through pursed lips. Then, you brace yourself up on your elbows and hang your head. Toshinori flops gracelessly onto his back, his arms and legs spread with his half-hard cock sloped against his stomach. Your slick is coating him. His pants are half down around his ankles, and his usual up-right bangs have sagged. From heat or exhaustion, you're not sure.

It sure as hell is cute.

"You okay?" you ask after a second, taking him in as he begins to catch his breath.

"Oh, yea, just peachy," he rumbles. The thousand-yard stare into the evening air is a hell of a thing on him.

It makes you bark out a laugh.

Toshinori lolls his head to the side lazily, taking you in.

Your knees and elbows are bleeding. You're picking out the gravel stuck to your palms. You're in no better of a state — your pants are half on, wrenched down over your riding boots, and your uniform's top is pushed up over your breasts. His orgasm is leaking out of you, and the insides of your thighs are coated with your own arousal. Your hair is a mess.

You're both messes.

You laugh again — and his own laugh starts shortly thereafter. Before you two know it, you're both locked in a laughing match that only ends when you try to reach to shove his shoulder. Your abs burn. Toshinori tries to muscle the grin off his face but fails.

Fuck.

Fuck, that feeling hasn't gone away.

It wasn't guilt.

Mayday, mayday, abort, abort, it wasn't guilt. He's smiling at you in the moonlight, looking so utterly wrecked and handsome and gentle—

His hand moves, a single crux finger gracing the curve of your arm soothingly. It's slow. Tentative. Hesitant. Not too much, not too little.

Toshinori's voice is rough with sheepishness.

"Are we, uh, are we never gonna talk about this, too?" he asks.

The touch and the question make your heart kick into a stutter.

You swallow roughly.

"I..." you drop your head, as you wet your lips; play it cool, "Is it something you... want to talk about?"

"...Do you?"

A non-answer.

Your lashes flutter as your stare widens. You open your mouth, about to say something, but suddenly both of your phones are blaring with a city-wide alert.

It takes a second for it to register — and as suddenly as the moment came, it went.

ALERT, ALERT, ALL PROS REPORT TO CITY HALL, MULTIPLE HOSTAGES, ARMED GUNMAN, ALL PROS REPORT TO CITY HALL, ALERT, ALERT!

You're struggling to haul your pants up as All Might fumbles with his belt. You hop on one foot, cursing as he scrambles for his phone in the gravel.

"You gotta be kidding me," he grits quietly, thumbing through the notification as you struggle in the middle distance behind him, tripping into your pack as you try and button your pants.

"Time to go?" you ask pathetically as you try to ignore the feel of after-sex between your legs.

"I guess that conversation is going to have to wait until later," he says apologetically, bending to grab your helmet. He offers it as you shrug on your pack; there's a sudden cocky confidence seeping back into his posture, "So let's make this quick, shall we?"

You swallow down a rush of worship.

"I guess so," you remark easily, again trying your best to seem cool. That's your whole persona after all. Little miss spiteful, cold, rough-around-the-edges...

Beautiful, perfect, lovely, Toshi muses as you shove your helmet on and jut your chin his way. You flick your eyes toward the edge of the building.

He's already got a running start.

"After you, All Might."

"Race you there, Derecho."

#bruised ego #mha imagine #bnha imagine #all might x reader #all might x you #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi imagine #all might imagine #bnha x reader #mha x reader #WOOOO I AM NOOOOTTTT SORRY #ENJOY U WHOREZ #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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vin-taege · 11 months ago

Note

Hiii, if you're willing to, could I request a chishiya x reader where reader gets seriously injured and knocked unconscious during a game and chishiya carries you out of there and treat your wounds, and they only find out about it when they wake up and kuina tells them (+bonus points if they just assume someone else like ann or anyone else really was the responsible for letting you live🙏🏽) just had this thought and was like aaaaa👉🏽👈🏽🤔

Flesh Wound

Summary: Your body is aching all over when you wake up, but you have no idea who put the bandages on you.

Genre: fluff

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 2k

Note: I got carried away aGAIN ; O; This is set during the five of spades game :>>

The wind blew against a lock of your hair softly. Chishiya leaned over the railing beside you, looking expressionless as always. Three stories below, you could see the Horse Mask empty another round of bullets into two poor souls—the girls who might have been friends. They stilled for a second, probably gauging their surroundings. Suddenly, they looked up, the front of their mask pointed directly towards you.

Chishiya swiftly grabbed your arm, pulling you down as he ducked. You shared a held breath, though you stubbornly peeked from behind the concrete. Horse Mask was unmoving, until they finally tore their gaze away and went back to loading their gun. After cocking it, they trudged slowly down the hallway.

“It has a blind spot,” you told him. In response, he raised an eyebrow, tilting his head to the right a little. “It didn’t see us, I think. Kept on going the same direction.”

“That’ll come in handy later. I’m still figuring out where exactly the safe zone could be.” He leaned back against the concrete barrier, eyes scanning the night sky above you before landing on your own. You tensed up, but for a different reason this time.

Don’t let him intimidate you, Kuina had told you before you entered the game. This was the first time you and Chishiya went to a game together. Kuina usually went with you, and your trio was granted the same group each time. But ever since the tension with the militants grew, Hatter had to reshuffle the groupings in an attempt to quell Aguni’s temper.

You opened your mouth in response, words caught in your throat as you heard another bout of gunfire. Carefully, the two of you peeked over the rails again, eyes drawn to a scraggly mop of hair poking from behind one of the lower floors. You craned your neck, trying to get a glimpse of were Horse Mask might be.

Chishiya tapped your shoulder to gain your attention. “It’s below us. The noise came from our area.”

“We need to move out then,” you muttered, getting ready to stand up. Chishiya stopped you with another tug on your arm. His eyebrows were furrowed a little, gaze transfixed on the spot Horse Mask shot at.

“It’s that room,” he nodded towards the bullethole-riddled door. The kid with messy hair dragged a man wearing a cap away from it, no doubt to seek a safe spot. “The tagger wouldn’t have shot at them from far away if it wasn’t.”

Without a second thought, you leaned over the railings and shouted as loud as you can, “Fourth floor, sixth door!”

Almost immediately, heavy boots smacked against the staircase on your far right. Shifting his hand to wrap around your wrist, Chishiya steered you toward the left-wing staircase. Your feet padded against the steps, heart beating rapidly. You let Chishiya lead you through turns and stairwells until you found yourselves back on the fourth floor.

You stopped momentarily, planting your hands on your knees to catch your breath. Chishiya panted next to you, though he tried to control his breathing more. In any situation, he’d never fail to keep up the mask of calmness.

“Let’s end this. I’m so hungry,” you attempted to banter. Despite having played several games together, you still didn’t know where you stood with him. At times he would act uncharacteristically… nice. Getting you meals unprompted, bringing you back trinkets he’d find lying around—like the hair tie that held your hair right now. And other times he’d be so withdrawn, going for days without a single conversation with you, as if he’s deliberately trying to ignore you.

Like now. He glanced at you blankly, eyes flicking for the briefest second towards your lips. Or maybe you imagined it?

“Let’s go.” Without another word, he peered around the corner before walking in like he owned the place. You were left to trail after him, anxiously glancing at the upper floors surrounding you. Sensing your nerves, Chishiya turned his head towards you. “We’ll hear the tagger coming because of his shoes. Don’t worry your pretty head too much about it.”

Oh! Pretty? Did he just call you pretty?

Thankfully, you were behind him, meaning you’d be able to hide your cheeks heating up. To distract yourself, you looked up only to find the same mop of messy hair and a cap trailing behind him. Chishiya spoke first before you could.

“You figured it out too, huh?” He said, almost as a challenge.

The boy nodded at him, saying how he also noticed the tagger’s protectiveness over that one specific door. He watched the taller man grip the door knob. Chishiya leaned against the wall, voice cool as ever. “What puzzles me is why the tagger isn’t here yet.”

You perked up, and you could tell that the other two players were intrigued by this statement as well. For a moment, everyone was silent. You turned your head towards Chishiya. “That means…”

“We don’t have time,” he cut you off, eyes meeting yours. He flashed his phone, showing the timer counting down from three minutes. His gaze never left yours, a silent plead for you to keep quiet in the meantime. You glared back at him, having a bad feeling that this was one of his tricks again.

“Arisu, he’s right. We need to finish this now.” The man in the cap whispered to who you now know as Arisu.

Arisu nodded back at him. He took a deep breath, then swung the door open. The four of you peered from the doorframe, scanning the inside of the apartment. Suddenly, gunfire started once again. This time, you felt a bullet graze your calf. All at once, everyone yelled, ducking into the safety of the apartment. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself fall forward into the darkness.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Chishiya’s chest. His arms were wrapped tightly around your back, and you could hear him try to stifle his heavy breathing. Slowly, you tilted your head to meet his gaze. His eyes widened a little, realizing the position you were in. He quickly retracted his hold over you, as if you were hot metal.

With the moment broken, you rolled off him with a grimace. You muttered, “Thanks for—Arisu!”

Behind the apartment door, a second tagger emerged from the shadows, shotgun trained on the back of Arisu. He whipped his head back upon hearing you, dodging just in time as you pushed the gun out of line.

The tagger thrashed against you, bringing in a leg to kick at your stomach. With a step back, you managed to dodge them, taking the opening to knee them in the torso. Your fingers still wrapped around the barrel of the gun, struggling to point it towards the ground.

From behind you, Chishiya lunged at the tagger. The charge of his tazer broke through the air, the man driving its points deep into the tagger’s leg. The tagger let out a pained yell, their leg giving out. They managed to catch themselves on their other foot. With the sudden shift in position, the gun slipped from your grasp. The tagger brought their arm back, bringing the butt of the gun on the side of your forehead.

The room spun around you. It felt like your head was dunked inside a fish tank, with all the noise sounding so muffled. Through the bleariness of your vision, you saw another spark in the dark—probably from Chishiya’s tazer again. Before you fully blacked out, you could recall Chishiya calling after you.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You woke up with a groan, not even bothering to sit up because of all the pain. There was a light throbbing in your head, and your legs felt incredibly sore. You squinted your eyes, letting them adjust to the light. When your vision cleared up, you recognized the room you were in to be yours.

There was a blanket covering you from the hips down. A wide bandage was wrapped over your head. Gauze was wrapped around your forearm, held in place by medical tape, a faint red mark seeping through the light fabric. You hadn’t even felt that injury from the game.

The game!

Does this mean you won? Is Chishiya okay? What happened to that Arisu kid and the man in the cap? Before you could stand up and get answers for yourself, a soft knock on your door echoed in your room.

“Come in,” you called out softly. Your voice was hoarse, and if you had spoken any louder, it would start up the headache again.

Kuina walked into the room, a bread basket slung on her arm. Chishiya shuffled in behind her, his gaze trained on the floor. They brought out some of the hotel chairs in your suite, sitting on either side of you. With a smile, Kuina proudly plopped the bread basket on the empty space of your bed.

“Where’d you even get that?” you chuckled lightly.

“Chishiya nabbed it on the way home,” she wiggled her eyebrows, a teasing smirk on her face. Across her, Chishiya scoffed, eyes not leaving the carpet. “He was very worried you know. It was the first time I saw him shaking in his flip-flops.”

“She’s pulling your leg. Not that it’s been injured already,” he replied curtly.

Through the pain, a smile made its way to your lips. With your uninjured arm, you gingerly ran your fingers across the basketweave. Your eyes found their way to Chishiya, his face framed by loose strands of hair.

“Thank you, for getting me out and for the bread.”

“I didn’t say I got you out,” he narrowed your eyes at you, though a smirk quirked at the corner of his mouth.

“I know, but you’ll never admit it anyway,” you grinned. Bringing your attention back to Kuina, you nudged the basket closer to her. “Here. I want you guys to have some too. Oh, and please bring some for Ann down in her dungeon as well.”

Kuina raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What for?”

“For patching me up,” you shrugged, gesturing to your bandage-riddled body. Kuina still looked partly surprised, before a wave of realization washed over her.

“Ah… I see.” She shot a knowing look toward Chishiya. It almost looked like he had a small pout. You could sense him starting to deflate a little in his seat, one of his knees starting to bounce repeatedly. “You know what, Ann isn’t the only person in the medical field here.”

With a wink, she grabbed two muffins and waltzed towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’ll drop this off at Ann’s too. To thank her for her ‘help’.” She emphasized with air quotes.

With a soft click, the door shut, leaving the two of you in silence once more.

You broke the silence first this time.

“Chishiya?”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Who treated my wounds?”

He stayed silent for a moment, too stubborn to meet your gaze. Finally, he let out a long sigh and still his knee. “I used to be a doctor in the other life.”

It was a non-admission, but an admission nonetheless. He had this way of things where he’d never say anything directly. He loved puzzles so much, that he became one. But you were getting used to his hints. And over time, you were learning how to piece together his thoughts.

“‘Shiya.” He finally looked at you. No one’s called him that since his mom.

You shuffled to the side, patting the space you made. Hesitantly, he crawled beneath the covers with you. You laid down in now comfortable silence. Slowly, you placed your hand above his.

He tensed for a moment before turning his palm up and enveloping yours. Your thumb traced his knuckle.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better.” You turned your head to face him. “Way better.”

He thickly swallowed, turning his head to face you. In the softest voice, he said, “I’m happy you are.”

The throbbing in your head faded. With that one small sentence, you understood most of the things he wanted to say, bubbling just beneath the surface. Over time, he’d be able to fully let his walls down. You just needed to trust that he will.

#alice in borderland imagines #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #aib imagines #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #aib x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #asks #requested

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solbaby7 · 11 months ago

Note

Holy mother of pearl I need a part 3 of blurred lines like I need air to breathe

as you wish. but this lil blurb is it y’all 🤣

[ part 1 ] [ part 2 ]

Rhysand was being obnoxious.

Unreasonably jealous and filled with a need like no other—almost comparable to the one induced by the powder that still burned in your system—his mouth wouldn’t stop latching to the marks Azriel had sucked into your neck. “Don’t get all quiet on me now,” Rhys huffs out, teeth nipping at your ear from behind.

Water sloshes over the edge of the tub, soaking the floor and the clothes scattered in it but neither of you can find it in you to care. Not when Rhys’ cock felt so deep, fucking into the swollen mess of your pussy like it was the first time all over again. “Azriel’s still here. It’s rude.”

“Don’t,” He’s vicious in his reprimand, guiding you up and down the girthy length of him with ease. Nails bite into already bruised flesh but the relief overrides the temporary discomfort. “—ever say another males name while I’m fucking you.”

A low hum dips in your throat. “Jealousy’s sexy on you, High Lord.” The soft fat of your breasts drag against the rising muscles of his chest, manicured nails raking through strands of silky obsidian. “Worried he did a better job? Lived up to the rumors about those great, big wings of his?”

The hand that splays across the length of your neck is unforgiving when he pulls you in closer, noses touching and breath mingling when a growl grows in his chest. It should spark fear, force your heartbeat to rise but all you feel is the electrifying tingle of anticipation. “Did he?”

“Maybe,” You shrug, feigning nonchalance but you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside you. There’s no friction, just fullness as your arms remain looped over broad shoulders, cool air nipping at wet skin. “Can’t remember—was a little out of it.”

“Is that right?” Rhysand’s eyes glaze over a moment, a dark smirk forming on regal features. Through the drug induced haze, you have half the sense to notice the shift in the air. Gone is the mate willing to offer endless coddling and comforting words crooned into the sensitive spot below your ear. Sweet touches are replaced with the all-consuming power that made Rhys the most dangerous of all the High Lords; dark magic cloaking the bathing chamber in pitch black, cutting off all sense of sight and distorting sound. “Shall I give you a refresher?”

Familiar talons tease at the barrier of your mental walls, itching to sink in and take the reins. Goosebumps swarm your skin despite the warmth of the water lapping at your legs. “Do as you please—take notes if you must.”

Your mates leniency towards your steadily growing snark seems to dwindle with each sentence spoken and he’s less than gentle when breaching the boundaries of your mind, rooting around as if he owned the place. Rhys yanks the offending memory forward, his presence lingering at your back, breath tickling at your neck as you’re forced to watch with him.

Watch you and Azriel—the fucked out glaze in your eye. The moans and hoarse screams for it harder. Deeper. “It surprises me that you could’ve forgotten this,” Rhysand taunts, chuckling to himself at the pliant lean of your body when his hands mimic Azriel’s. Fingers pinch at hardened nipples, copying the cruel pace set until witty remarks fizzled away; all the spark snuffed out by alluring darkness and the delicious drag of Rhysand’s cock inside of you. Your eyes begin to flutter closed when a hand curls around your jaw, face forcefully raised to keep watching. “Pay attention,” The rasp in his tone shoots right between your thighs and it’s impossible to resist wiggling your hips, meeting every thrust until you swore you could feel both of them at the same time. “Don’t look away,” He commands, barely winded. “Or I’ll stop and leave you here to ride this out on your own.”

Thank the Mother he was standing behind you, unable to catch the harsh bite of your lip and the pitiful wobble of your chin. But still, you obeyed. Never tearing your eyes away for even a second as Rhysand fucked into you, hands gripping at your hips and wandering the length of your body before the touches began to lose its synchronicity. “It’s so deep,” The whine is abruptly cut off, a palm pressed against your lips as he manually silences you.

“That’s not what you said to him.” One finger raised from your face to point at the memory, Azriel’s gruff words muffled by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. Every nerve burns, muscles screaming with tension as that coil tightened more and more and more in the pit of your belly. “I thought you were worried about Az hearing you, pretty girl?” Your neck cranes as he pulls your back flush to his chest, resting your head on his shoulder but the devastating thrust of his hips don’t stop and the angle threatens to force your eyes closed. “Don’t be fucking rude.”

It’s torture; trying to remain quiet with so much happening. You swear you can feel Azriel’s hands on your body, skipping past Rhys’ own while twin tongues taste at your neck. Your sounds muffle against his palm, water splashing and skin slapping until four hands became too much for one body.

“He didn’t fuck you like this,” The High Lord all but snarls in your ear, two strong fingers rubbing at your clit in firm circles. “Say it.”

“He didn’t—“ You stammer over the words, garbled syllables rumbling against the hand that slides back down to your throat and the memory is shoved away; tucked in a box and lock deep within the corners of your mind. “He didn’t fuck me like this. Not how you do.”

Plush lips kiss at sweat-slick cheeks, tongue claiming at the line of your jaw and teeth sink into the already bruised expanse of your neck. “Now say it like you mean it.”

It’s too much, the teasing and that possessive bite in his grip. “No one does it like you, Rhys.” You’re so close, fingers digging into the edge of the tub, back arching into him as you teetered that line—coil threatening to give at any second. “No one ever will.”

#acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x you #acotar #azriel #high lord rhysand #acotar azriel #rhys x reader smut #rhysand smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhys smut #azriel x reader #acotar x reader smut #acotar fics #acotar smut

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liillyliilly · 7 months ago

Text

No Free-Solo

kenji sato x reader words; 10021 synopsis; from high school on, kenji couldn't do it alone, especially not when she was there for him.

“You’re missing me with that busy shit. You’re missing me with your whole ‘I can’t come over tonight’ act.” Kenji sat in what she liked to refer to as his dungeon, his lair, his Ultraman den. His too large for life couch made of black leather was cold and the emptiness was expansive in his mansion. He wanted her near, he wanted her to come back.

“I really can’t come over, I’m helping out Ami with Chiho tonight.” She tried to let him down gently, but he huffed through the phone.

She wasn’t a nanny per se, but she did do a fair amount of long-term babysitting for lots of people, mostly for Ami, occasionally for other busy mothers. She had a certain touch to the whole watching and raising kids thing, entertaining the child while also educating them.

Chiho was snoring in her bed. Ami was out with her fellow reporter boyfriend. And she, well she was watching movies in the family room of Ami’s house. Drawings that Chiho had done were covering the walls, plenty of Ultraman pictures to Kenji’s amusement.

She knew the Sato family through a long-winded connection by friendship shared between mothers. Kenji’s mom was best friends with her mom. In terms of maturity though, she was light years ahead of Kenji even when they were in high school. Back in America, when life was typical (meaning lacking in Kaiju and Ultraman responsibility) and the LA Dodgers still reigned supreme in Kenji’s head. They had met for the first time right before her junior year and his senior year.

She would be the youngest junior at the school and he would be one of the oldest seniors at their Los Angeles high school.

Her mom had insisted they visit her good friend the summer before her junior year started, and that she would need to help the son out in adapting to American High school since they had just moved from Japan.

She was worried due to a potential language barrier, but her mom assured her that he would be fluent in English. But how would her mom know that? Her anxiety was off the charts. She spent hours studying basic Japanese, which she found was probably going to kill her, why a language needs more than one writing system was beyond her.

“Ah! It’s so good to see you, Emiko!” Her mom went in for a big hug, and the petite Japanese woman returned the hug with as much enthusiasm as had been given. Her mom muttered about the separation between Emiko and Hayao, and Emiko gave a strained smile, leading them into the house.

Kenji was lounging on the couch, which she soon learned that he loved to do, a tendency to sprawl due to his height and lankiness. He was switching TV channels, until he landed on a baseball game and committed to watching that.

Her mom ushered her over to him, telling her to make conversation and get to know him. How she expected her to do that despite not knowing him at all was a wonder. She didn’t suspect that they had anything in common, and with the zeal he was watching the baseball game, she also suspected that he wasn’t going to be a huge fan of her preference for movies and shows over sports.

So she mustered up a greeting in Japanese from a textbook she had picked up. She had missed the way his eyes glinted with amusement, it was at that moment he decided to play just a small inconsequential game. A game where he pretended he didn’t know any English.

He responded in Japanese, and she realized she really knew nothing at all about Japanese. He sat up and patted the seat next to him. The moms left the main living space in favor of drinking some tea upstairs on a balcony, leaving her alone and incapable of communicating.

Pointing to herself, she said her name with a forced smile. He said ‘Kenji’ while pointing to himself and saying a variety of other words that she had no idea meant anything at all. At least Japanese sounded pretty, so she started thinking about the linguistic history and design of the syllables. He waved a hand in front of her face and she snapped out of her mini history lesson to herself.

Pushing his joke a little further, he used his head to point to a door near the stairs. She raised an eyebrow. He spoke for a few more moments, and she could only stiffly smile and nod in return. When he grabbed her hand and went to the door she thought she was going to die.

Inside the door was his room, and she really thought that this was the end of her sanity, her childhood, her innocence. She had fandangled herself into an intimate relationship with someone who didn’t even speak English and her heart was going to burst at the seams. Trying to recall all the words she had memorized, she was mad that she never learned the words for; no, stop, or I’ll kill you.

It was when she began to slink towards the door and hold her arms across her body in a cross shape that he realized maybe he should drop the joke. Her ears seemed like they were burning and her breathing had increased to a mile a minute in pace.

“Relax, I just wanted to show you my baseball cards.” He held up a binder and opened it to reveal a collection of player cards double sleeved and tucked neatly into a sheet protector.

“I thought you didn’t speak any English!” She frowned and put a hand to her heart. He laughed and she realized she had fallen for a trick.

“My bad.” He holds his hands together and puts them up near his head with a slight bow to apologize. Kenji pushes his bangs back and licks his top row of teeth, “Do you know if our school has a baseball team?” He asks.

She nods. “We’re in the top bracket for playing, it’s super hard to get onto the team though, my friend tried-”

He raised a hand to get her to stop speaking, then he informed her of his inherent athletic prowess, “Believe me, I’ll get onto the team.”

And he had. He’d even qualified to play on the varsity team.

A few months into the school year, while she was eating in the library with some friends, Kenji came bustling into the open space with his pack of baseball players. They always tagged along behind him, treating him like some sort of fancy foreign exchange kid, which she realized was exactly the situation and so her mental analogy didn’t end up working out and she clicked her teeth.

But the majority of white boys at the school did tend to lean a little too hard into the racial stereotypes and unfunny jokes. All Kenji could do sometimes was purse his lips and keep eating his natto. They thought because they had an Asian friend it was an excuse for their behavior, why Kenji never stood up to them and told them off was a huge confounding plight in her eyes. Kenji himself didn’t quite understand it either. Not even when they shortened his name into just Ken for ease and convenience.

Before she could tidy up her comparison and dissection of Kenji Sato, he was leaning on her desk, eating her carrots and searching for her eyes to meet him. He said something in Japanese, and she tried to remember how the words sounded so she could look up what he had said.

“I need your help.” He stole a bite of her sandwich, then drank some of her water. Before he even took it without asking, she offered her pastry to him and he ate the whole thing in one bite and mumbled a ‘thanks’ with his mouth full. He finished chewing and swallowing.

“I need you to pretend to date me so I can get these guys off my back.” He stuck his thumb in the direction of his teammates.

“Absolutely not. No way in hell, Kenji.” She started to pack up her bag, but he just put his hand on her bag and pressed it hard against the desk. With his other hand he gently grabbed her by the chin, and tilted her face up to his. Inches away. Her eyes went wide.

“Pretty please?” He licked his lips and she tried to bring her own face back to avoid his tongue getting to her lips.

She thought about what her mom said, telling her to help out Kenji if he needed it. This couldn't apply though, right?

“I’m going to need so many favors.” She groaned, managing to get her bag out from under his hands.

He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, ruffling her hair and heading out with his friends who began to goad him for keeping her a secret for so long. He had just taken her first kiss and it didn’t seem like it bothered him at all. She was too busy pressing her hand to her lips to even notice the way his ears were a scorching hot red.

When she went to research what he had said to her, she thought she must have misheard him because the proposed English translation was something along the lines of, ‘please let this work out in my favor’.

Continuously, she called in favors, and he was there to meet them. Getting books off the top shelves in the library. Sharpening pencils when they were studying. Even helping her learn just a little more of his language.

“No, no you gotta give each syllable its own beat. Copy me.” Kenji went over the blended ‘r’ and ‘l’ sound that felt clunky in her mouth.

She did replicate what he was saying, at least to her own belief that that was her best ability. He laughed a little and she frowned.

“Okay, move your tongue a little, right behind your front teeth, but also not touching your teeth, just let your tongue kinda do the sound in the middle.” Kenji opened his mouth a little so she could observe. She tried again but it sounded even worse than the first attempt.

“I wish I could just move your tongue for you so you could get the motion right.” She looked quickly side to side, biting her bottom lip. Kenji backtracked immediately, “That didn’t come out quite right, I think that’s enough Japanese for one day.” She nodded rapidly and closed the journal she was using to take notes.

He said that they could go get food, she agreed and they got burgers and milkshakes at a run down family owned diner. He paid, despite her insisting she could pay for her own food. Saying that that was apart of the whole fake dating thing.

“You know, you do a lot of things under the guise of our not dating, dating thing.” She sipped her milkshake. Kenji took a bite of his burger, musing about what he would say.

“Well, we’re friends as well right?”

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out since you basically arrived here. We’re friends, but honestly, we behave more like best friends.” She finished off her shake and cleaned up her area.

That was something he liked about her, her consideration for cleanliness and organization. But also her appreciation for others around her, cleaning up her stuff so that the likely overworked waitress didn’t have to. A person who thinks about other people. Now that was his type he decided.

“I’m happy with being best friends.”

In all fairness, he was probably the best fake boyfriend that a girl could’ve asked for. They had settled on knowing their relationship was best friends, but for others they had the additional label of dating. Sometimes though, he’d do something like grab her hand or wrap an arm around her. When those situations presented themselves, she always looked for possible viewers, his teammates. But based on her data, he only did things like that around 20% of the time when his teammates were actually watching. Meaning that the other 80% of the time he did the physical acts of affection, no one was around to watch.

While his English was practically perfect, he had the hardest time in social studies and history, so he got her help with his U.S. government class. He claimed that because he hadn’t lived here at all, and because he had Japanese citizenship that this class was completely useless for him. His defeatist attitude towards history made her roll her eyes at him.

One day, when she was intending to come over to help him, Emiko crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe as he cleaned up his room. He threw his baseball socks and jersey into the dirty clothes hamper.

“She’s coming over then?”

He mumbled an affirmative answer.

Emiko got giddy, saying she’d make a good rich curry tonight for dinner and that he’d need to tell her to stay for dinner. He gave a wave and kept picking up his room.

When the doorbell rang, he ran to the door. Emiko chastened him and told him to calm down. He let her in, and she greeted his mom, giving Emiko the box of fruit her own mom told her to drop off. He complained in Japanese that she always went straight to his mom instead of greeting him first. Emiko in turn smiled at her while scolding her son again in Japanese.

Watching the conversation unfold, she shrugged, Japanese was just not her strong suit.

“How hard is it to understand a constitutional federal republic?” She looked over his essay answer to a prompt she had given him to practice for his upcoming test. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, chewing the end of a pen. She was leaning against his bed frame, reading papers and marking up his essay with her red pen. Each time she made another red mark, he grumbled. Of all the people she had tutored though, his handwriting was the best.

“Correct these things first, and then I can edit again with my orange pen.” She held up said pen while handing the paper back to him. He just mimicked what she had said, holding his own pen the same way she had held up hers, even going so far as to bring his shoulders upwards to make him appear smaller.

In response to the insulting imitation she grabbed her notebook and hit him repeatedly on the knee. He let out a pained ouch, and she felt bad, so she put the notebook away and just patted his knee instead.

“If you really loved me you’d just write out the whole essay and then I could just memorize it and cross apply the right parts for the actual prompt Mr. Henry gives in class next week.” Kenji adjusted his body position, and her hand wasn’t on his knee anymore but dead center of his thigh instead. He smirks, and she immediately retracts her hand.

“Good thing I don’t love you then.” Kenji presses his hand to his heart and sighs, falling back into his pillow. “Just do the essay Jiji.”

He lifted his head and repeated what she had said, “Jiji?”

“Kenji.” She says his name and enunciates the two syllables cleanly.

“I like Jiji, I think it suits me. It’s a cute nickname.”

He finished rewriting the essay while she poked around his room. Photos of him with his mom and dad, which she already knew not to ask about because last time she did he went total silence for two weeks. But then he felt guilty about ghosting and took her out to get a sweet treat everyday after school for one week straight. Trophies from his old school back in Japan for his baseball achievements. Multiple MVP awards from the games he had played here.

The other photos that were in his room were mostly of him and his teammates. He just didn’t look too happy in those ones, so she tried to skim them, but failed. His teammates did their best to make him seem like he was a part of the group, but it just didn’t click all the way. Kenji always looked too serious in the photos, or it seemed like he was actually looking at the baseball diamond instead of the person taking the photo.

There was an adorable little figure, made either of acrylic or vinyl, of a little superhero with a red and silver supersuit and a blue circle on the chest. She picked it up and inspected it. What she assumed was Kenji’s name was on the foot of the toy. She bent the arms of the toy and moved it around like it was flying midair.

Kenji had completely paused writing his essay in favor of watching her dart around his room. He clenched his jaw for a second when she picked up the Ultraman toy, then eased his body language when she started making the toy fly around. If only that’s what Ultraman really was, just a toy. Just a toy and not an impending responsibility to protect and serve the people of Japan from Kaiju monsters. He wondered if she’d ever want to live somewhere besides Los Angeles. Tokyo for example.

“Kenji! Curry! Get the applesauce from the cabinet please!” Emiko called out.

She set the toy down and turned around, but Kenji was already standing right behind her. He had only meant to watch her movements a little more closely, but now this was entirely too close. He played it off like he was adjusting the Ultraman doll, smiled and then opened his door for her to exit and head downstairs.

When he heard the steps trailing down, he silently screamed and raised his hands to the sides of his head. Then he dragged a hand down his face and carded fingers through his hair. He envied the self he saw in the photos, cool and nonchalant.

“So, are there any boys you think are cute at school?” Emiko ate another bite of katsu that was drenched in curry sauce.

She swallowed thickly for a second, “I- uh, no. There’s not many good options for dating material at a hyper-athletic school.” She laughed to cut the edge off the conversation.

Emiko drank some water, but then prodded a little more. Kenji wished the earth would open and swallow him up.

“Not even at a school full of athletes? I would’ve sworn there were some good options for you on Kenji’s baseball team. What was his name? Eric? Eli?”

“Ohh, Ezra Johnson?” She supplied, eating some applesauce and then tapping her mouth with a napkin.

Kenji looked to her, then to his mom, then back at her. He was trying to stuff his face with his food so he could exit the conversation and then drag her and himself back to his room. She seemed insistent on blocking out the whole fake dating thing from his mom’s view and perception.

“Yes! He’s a really nice kid! He actually greeted me when I went to the first game. It was so sweet of him. His mom and I got to know each other a little bit. I can send you his details if you want?” Emiko grazed the back of her phone.

“No!” Kenji burst. His mom and his fake girlfriend both looked at him. “Uh, Ezra is talking to this girl named, um, Claire. Yeah, Claire.” He held his plate up and his mom nodded.

Rinsing his plate off he put it into the dishwasher, then from behind his mom’s back he tried mouthing to her so they could go back upstairs but she was too busy still talking to his mom to notice anything.

When she finally finished eating, she said she needed to go back home.

“What about my essay though?” Kenji rested his forearms on the kitchen counter while she was busy doing the dishes despite having to gently fight with Emiko about letting her even do the dishes in the first place.

“I gave you enough content to work with, just do the corrections and you’ll be good to go.” She bumped the dishwasher with her hip to close it, and he wondered what her bumping into him would feel like. And then he groveled a little that he wanted to be a dishwasher for even a split second. “I need to do my own homework now, tell your mom thank you again for me, okay?”

She rubbed his arm to comfort him slightly, but he took his chance to reach to her hip, tugging her lightly into him.

“What are you doing?” She hissed at him, trying to keep her voice down in case Emiko was still lurking around.

“Saying thanks for the help, goodbye, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed the hand that she had on his arm and held her hand for a second, then brought it up to his mouth to press a light kiss to her knuckles.

She smiled, then pushed his shoulder.

When she had left the house, he flung himself onto the couch and giggled a little. Kicking his feet that were dangling over the arm of the couch. His mom peeked downstairs to see Kenji wriggling around and muttering. She just laughed a little. Maybe her instigation had worked out in the end.

The next week, she was hounded by baseball players after school.

She kept holding up a hand to cover her face, but they would not relent. Asking questions about her and Kenji. What Kenji was like outside of school, outside of baseball. If Kenji ever stopped being serious and aloof for even a minute. At this point they were just crowding her and not giving her the space to breathe.

She kept giving short curt answers, tugging her backpack straps closer and closer to her. At one point, one of them stepped on her foot and she winced a little.

It was like some kind of sonar sensor, Kenji could tell something was wrong. When he turned the corner, all he could see was his girl getting cornered by a bunch of idiots who didn’t even have his best interest at heart. The only reason why he asked her to fake date him was so that he could get out of dates with the girls his teammates had thought would suit him. The secondary reason was so she could avoid his teammates entirely. But clearly, the second reason did not go as planned because his teammates were a bunch of no-brainers who didn’t even really care about baseball.

“Hey, let’s go, I’ll drive you home today.” Kenji stuck his hand in between two of his teammates, and she grabbed it, so he was able to pull her out from the crowd they had made around her.

He strung two fingers around her jean belt loop and guided her to his car. When they finally sat down, and Kenji had started the engine, she let out a shaky breath. He put his hand behind her seat, and then moved his hand so he could lightly touch the back of her neck at her nape.

“Are you okay? I had no idea they would do something like that, I mean, it’s just completely ridiculous. I don’t even talk to them that much, if at all. And they treat me like some kind of foreigner, which I may be yeah, but really come on. That’s just herd mentality to the max. Ridiculous behavior, so childish.” Kenji kept talking while driving, she thought that maybe he needed a chance to really unload everything and mitigate the tension that had built up around him.

When they got to her house, he apologized again. And again.

“Don’t let it eat you alive, it’s all good, no harm no foul, if it makes you feel better, they totally reeked of body odor.” She chimed in after he finished his long wind of apologies. “And, um, what time is your game on Wednesday? My mom asked, she wants to hang out with your mom.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to see me completely kill the opposing team.” Kenji tried to lean out of the car just a little more, but his seatbelt kept him from getting his head out of the passenger side window. “I’ll text you. Get to your house safe ok?”

To her house from the car was approximately seven steps. The smile she gave him wrinkled her eyes and creased her nose just perfectly. He slid his hands up and down the wheel, smiling to himself as he started home.

The game went perfectly, he stole practically all the bases, and he made two home run hits. And an LA Dodgers scout was there. Once he got the documents and the scout shaked his hand, he was over the moon excited to play for the best team in the United States.

When he saw her with her mom and his mom, he just couldn’t hold himself back. In a second, he was hugging her and ranting about the scout continuously just repeating the experience over and over. Since his mom knew she would have a hard time prying Kenji off of his best friend, she just had to listen in to what he was saying, and she clapped when she had finally heard it all, celebrating from just far enough away to let them enjoy the moment.

His graduation was boring, she sat with his mom in the stands waiting for him to get his name called out. There were a lot of speeches, and she recognized the valedictorian from various library encounters, but for the most part everyone was a stranger to her. Emiko kept getting a call from an international number, but she didn’t try to ask about it.

Kenji barrelled through the crowd of graduates to get to his people, his mom and his best friend. When he started to talk about what he was going to do over the summer, his baseball camps and training, getting to meet the members of his team. His mom put a gentle hand to his shoulder, and he furrowed his eyebrows at the serious environment his mom had suddenly crafted. She backed away a little, but Kenji grabbed her hand and shook his head, telling her to stay for whatever his mom had to say.

“Kenji, your dad, he’s, your dad wants to talk to you. He’s, he’s on the phone.” Emiko couldn’t help but stutter a little, unnerved with how Kenji would react.

Kenji shook his head no, pulling her closer to him trying to use her as a crutch to prevent an interaction with his father from occurring. She looked between Kenji and his mother for a moment. Emiko with her tightened face and hand gripping the phone tightly said more than what her original request was saying. Emiko wanted Kenji to answer the call. So, she in turn encouraged him to answer it.

“Jiji, just answer the call. It’s your dad.” He felt betrayed.

“I’m not picking up the phone, I’m not talking to dad, and I’m getting a ride with a friend.” He pulls his hand away, despite missing her touch, and leaves his mom and her standing and stunned from his reaction.

Emiko pulled her into a side hug. “Thanks for backing me, you’re much more mature than I think people give you credit for. I have udon at home, call your mom and let’s have a girls night. I don’t think he’ll be home for a while. I’ll let him blow off steam today, but don’t think I’m soft on him, he’ll have some hell to pay when I catch him tomorrow.”

Patting the back of her head, Emiko went to the small electric van. She stood for a second, thinking about the space Kenji had just occupied. Maybe the family dynamic in the Sato household was more complex than she had anticipated, Emiko seemed to still love her husband despite them being separated. Kenji seemed adverse to and angry with his father, but Emiko didn’t carry any slight of resentment.

Girls night was a blast, including face masks and bad romance movies. Kenji got back around midnight, just as her mom and her were leaving his house. When she left, he was the one who closed the door after her. He gave a short pained smile and a wave. In her mind, it was a win because at least he wasn’t upset with her for taking Emiko’s side.

Summer was hot and burned the apples of her cheeks, leaving both sunburns and memories in it’s fragmented state. Kenji was busy conditioning for baseball practically everyday. Somedays he’d invite her out just to watch him play, so she could sip some icy lemonade and sit in the shade instead of being cooped in her house doing whatever it is that homebodies do.

It would be deceiving to say that she didn’t enjoy just watching him play. The way his baseball jersey would bunch at his elbows and shoulders when he hit the ball. Or the way he would run the bases each time he missed a throw from the ball machine. He still needed to get a haircut, so his bangs would completely cover most of his face, until he ran a hand through his sweaty hair and his almost snake-like eyes would study her from afar.

The best part was when he told her to move her legs a little, so he could sit on the row of bleachers in front of her. Eventually positioning himself to settle in between her legs, resting his arms on her thighs and his head was leaning on her torso. Although his sweat would lightly mark up her shirts when his hair dripped from his practice rounds, she still loved to be there for him in this capacity.

Either he was here with her or he would be at the diamond alone and angry. When he came alone, he would throw his bat when he made a mistake instead of just brushing it off and doing a lap. Somehow, doing baseball training alone while waiting for official LA Dodgers’ orders made him all pent up and out of control. So when she came to observe, it felt like he had more things in his control, his ability to manage.

“How are you gonna survive without me next year?” Kenji rolled his shoulders before getting his water bottle and guzzling down the IV infused liquid.

“Well, as far as everyone knows, we’re still dating, so I’ll have another year of free solo-ing the romance world at a hormone ridden cesspool.” She slid her backpack on, ready to start the trek home.

Kenji slung his duffel bag over his shoulder, then quickly switched which shoulder his bag was on once he saw which side she let her bag rest on, so that their bags wouldn’t bump into each other as he walked her home.

“You’re not gonna tell people we ended it?” Kenji sucked in some air through his teeth, readjusting the bag’s weight placement a little.

“Nah, it’s just easier that way. At graduation though if anyone asks how we’re doing I’ll say you found a supermodel that preys on greenie Pro-Baseball players.”

He nods, accepting the route she was going in order to terminalize their fake relationship.

“I was a good boyfriend though, right?” Maybe he asked so that he could feel out the possibility of a real one, or seeing what he could do better when he finally worked up enough courage to ask her out for real and for forever. For now though, he knew that friendship would satiate most of his yearning for her time and attention.

“Comparatively, to what I heard other girls went through, you were practically a saint. I mean, you never did press me into a couch so we could make out. Ruby held that over my head for the whole year once her girlfriend did that to her.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad actually,” Kenji stroked his chin, “One last boyfriend duty for me to do before I get too busy, ya know?”

“Kiss me without permission and you're a dead baseball boy.” He held up his hands defensively.

“That was one time.”

“In the middle of the library, in front of a good majority of my friends, right after I had been begged to be a fake girlfriend.”

Kenji raised his eyebrows, and tilted his head, “I do not recall begging.”

“You definitely begged,” She clasped her hands together and turned towards him, pausing their pace on the sidewalk for her to parody him, “Pretty please.”

She fluttered her eyelashes and pouted dramatically.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her hands so she would keep walking.

The postseason began around October for Kenji, and he made his official debut into the stage of professional baseball. Around the fifth game he played, he snapped. And that’s why he was sitting on her bathroom counter holding a bag of peas to the side of his face, while she dug through the closet just outside the bathroom looking for a first aid kit.

The catcher had just stepped out of line according to Kenji, messing up his at bat routine with his comments about his age, his inexperience, his lack of genuine talent. The first punch was Kenji’s, the second punch was the catcher’s and it rocked Kenji immediately.

Tasting the metallic blood in his mouth, he was just glad all his teeth were okay. He did feel bad for going to her instead of going home. But he knew that his mom would’ve killed him for hitting another player. The only reason why his mom wasn’t at this specific game was because she had some research files from years ago that his father needed, so she was spending the time trying to transfer data from floppy disks to USB drives.

She should’ve been asleep, or studying for her upcoming exams. He felt like an inconvenience and like a child who was being coddled, but he did feel like he was being fawned over by her which he could live with. Even the way she had reacted to him texting her and asking if she could help patch him up a little. She had sent nearly thirty messages, mostly angry, but also laced with worry.

“This might sting a little.” She reached up and pressed a cloth to his lip. He lurched away from the disinfectant, and she almost fell over due to having to reach up to get to his face.

“Hold on, give me a second.” Kenji got off the counter regardless of her complaints, she stopped complaining and was silenced once he swapped their positions, her sitting on the counter and him in front of her with his hands on either side of her hips, placed on the edge of the counter. “Better.”

She hummed a little, pressing the cloth to his face again, he tried to not lurch away this time. She put some triple antibiotic ointment on his lip and temple where there were some cuts. Putting some small star shaped bandages on his face where the cuts were biggest.

“All done!” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave a big smile.

Maybe he leaned in, maybe he didn’t. But their lips were definitely touching. When she pushed him away he realized he must have made a fatal error. So he decided to play it off.

“Sorry, a little faint from the fight earlier, not in my right mind.”

“Yeah, you, uh, you were just trying to, yeah.” She chewed the inside of her mouth.

Kenji helped her off the counter, and walked to her front door, ready to head out.

Holding onto the door, she stuck her head out and commented to him before he got too far away from hearing distance, “No more fights okay?”

He threw her a thumbs up before leaving her house. When he was safely back in his car, he did something that was all too familiar when he slipped up around her, he silently screamed and gripped his hair.

Years went by.

They stayed close, and he made sure of that. Baseball was going great, but no championships under his belt. She had graduated college, working at an office as an assistant. She moved out of her family home and got a shared apartment with some college friends who also worked in the main part of Los Angeles

Then, his dad hurt his leg, and everything went to hell. Hayao had called, telling Kenji it was finally time to take the name of Ultraman. He now needed to bear the gauntlet, the responsibility of keeping his home country safe. His mom just agreed, putting her hands on Kenji’s knee. Telling Kenji it was finally time for him to go home and be who he was supposed to be. And he was supposed to be Ultraman?

Baseball was his thing, he knew baseball and he was good at it too. Baseball felt like home, LA felt like his home, she felt like his home.

On top of all that, within a week of his father’s request and his mother’s urging, his mother had an accident. He had no idea what happened. Just that one day, Emiko was there and then she wasn’t.

He was depressed, and so he drank. His house was a mess. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, he was wearing the same clothes from four days ago. His toothbrush had become unfamiliar. He didn’t bother turning on the lights, staying in the dark and sulking.

When her mom found out about Emiko’s disappearance and presumed death, she called her daughter and told her to check in on Kenji. He had been distant lately, and she knew that the distance was a result of his grief. Her stomach twisted into knots, and she realized she hadn’t reached out to him in a few weeks.

His front door was locked, she had a basket of fruit and a stack of tupperwares filled with lunches and dinners for an entire week. She tried to think about what food were both comforting and had a lot of protein, so she made a variety of pasta dishes with extra meat.

“Kenji?” She knocked repeatedly, checking her phone only to see that her messages had been left on read. She called out for him again, knocking harder. “I know you’re in there Jiji.”

Opening the door made her grasp the gravity of the situation he was in. His hair was covering his face, he seemed to have recoiled into himself, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt instead of his typical jeans and jersey thrown over a solid color tee. He smelled too, not of his usual mintiness and clean linen, but of all and any sort of alcohol. With eye bags darker than dirt, and hollow looking features, he just left the door open as he lurked back into his blacked out house.

Setting her gifts on his kitchen counter, she turned on the lights, and got to work. First the dishes, and then she picked up all the clothing and started a load of laundry. She made him a plate of the food she had brought, and a big glass of water and some Advil for the inevitable hangover he would have.

Lying on the couch, Kenji played with the hem of his sweatshirt. He tried to take another sip straight from a bottle of red wine when she stole it out of his hands. Whining, he told her to give it back and turn the lights off. She clicked her tongue.

“Eat this,” she handed him the plate, “Drink this,” she sat the water and pill on the coffee table. She tapped her foot, her arms folded in front of her chest. He groaned but did as told.

Satisfied with his actions, she dragged him upstairs and told him to take a shower. Hearing the water running, she looked around his room and cleaned it up. His passport, along with a one way ticket to Tokyo for one month out, was on the floor, covered by blankets that were strewn around. Opened letters were lying on the floor as well, pictures and clippings of ‘Kaiju’ attacks in Japan. Maybe she needed to brush up on her international news instead of staying in her little bubble.

Coming out of the shower with baggy clothes on, he dried his hair with a small towel.

“What are you doing?” He saw her holding the letters his dad had sent. He reached out for them, but she held them back and to her chest.

“What are Kaiju?”

Soon, he was sitting on his bed with her as well. He had the Ultraman doll in his left hand and a stuffed animal that she had given him some years ago in his right hand.

“Basically, I’m this, by blood,” He shook the Ultraman doll, “And I’m supposed to fight these back home. Since my father can’t anymore.” Laughing slightly, he slammed Ultraman into the stuffie repeatedly.

Her eyes were wide. She may not have understood everything about what he was, or what he was supposed to be doing, but she knew it was important to him to some degree. It was irrelevant that his dad needed him, the only thing he cared about was that his mom had asked him to take the step to become something he wasn’t sure of.

But the idea that her best friend was going to be a superhero? That he could change into some kind of robotic monster slayer? She had to disconnect a little from reality just to process the whole thing.

Suddenly, he thought of something that could possibly get him out of his funk. Something that could make his time in Tokyo, living an entirely new life bearable.

“There’s some extra rooms at the place I’ll be living in. I know that you want to go to some kind of graduate school. There are really good graduate schools in Tokyo.” He scratched the back of his head, if she said yes, then he would be truly mortified that she had seen him like this but he would also get to have neverending time with her on a day to day basis if she agreed.

“I remember none of the Japanese you taught me, I’d need to get a visa,” She started listing off all the things that would keep her from leaving, “But, uh, I think I’ll go with you. Yes.”

“I can handle the visa thing, you’re just going to need to sign some papers and have an interview with some people, and you’ll need to wear a ring on your ring finger. As for the Japanese, I’m a better teacher now than when I was 18.”

Getting married was not on her bucket list, but at least she could get better tuition at her graduate school for technically being a form of naturalized Japanese national. Her mom was glad to see her living away from LA, and she was grateful for Kenji going with her daughter. Her mom just didn’t know about the marriage for a green card/visa situation, and honestly, she didn’t plan on telling her mom.

The whole flight to Tokyo she was practicing her Japanese with Kenji. For the first time in a long time, he was actually happy. Not ready for the whole Ultraman thing, but ready at least to leave home and be out of LA. Los Angeles reminded him of his mother, every street sign, every restaurant, the greenery and flowers, it all came back to his mom.

What he had explained to her as the Ultrabase wasn’t just some place that he was staying at, it was a literal industrial modern masterpiece of a mansion. The sleek design ebbed and flowed into the molding of the island it resided on. Ceilings higher than a museum’s, she traced her finger along every surface trying to soak in the elitism of it all. He reclined himself on the ginormous couch, watching her observe the surroundings.

To him, she was the best feature of the homebase. Where most things were cold and stricken with a detrimental weight of his responsibility, she was like a beam of no expectations. She gave him the space to just exist without pressure. That and she was always fighting with his robot assistant MINA which also made each time returning back from fighting a little easier to endure.

“Listen MINA, I just think that you’d be more effective if you were pink, also can you pass me my pencil case.” She was sitting at the kitchen table, snacking on candy and working on an assignment from one of her professors on her Master’s Committee. MINA used an extended robot hand to fly over the pencil case that had been in her backpack.

“If I was pink, it would detract from my integrated design.” MINA floats around her head, observing her completed work thus far. “Your work is completely correct, why are you changing the grammatical structure?”

“For the love of the process MINA, for the love of the process.”

Kenji just ate another bite of his New York Strip, enjoying the free entertainment. When he finished his meal, he asked if she wanted to go out for an adventure.

Matching helmets, black and gold design with her wearing one of his extra leather jackets just in case. For safety he justified. The cool Tokyo air felt even colder as they rushed around the streets, lane splitting and cutting in between cars. The headphones had built in bluetooth so they were listening to a shared playlist they had made. Blending rap, RNB, pop, and EDM crafted the right ambiance needed for a late night drive.

In some ways, Tokyo was similar to LA. She reasoned that it might have been the lights to a certain degree, but here, the lights were brighter and bolder. Neon signs and air pollution were the common denominators between the two cities.

He takes a corner just a little too hard, and she instinctively tightens her arms around his waist, tucking her head a little closer to his shoulder.

They end up taking a break for a minute, pulling off the side of the road to grab some vending machine drinks. Tea for her, coffee for him.

That’s when his watch begins to blare red. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, she didn’t need to wear it around he told her, but the cool diamond gem had grown on her. Just as a precaution if the case workers came around to check on their ‘marriage’, that was the explanation she gave to him for why she always had her ring on. They never talked about why he always kept his on too, despite interviews asking and continuously pestering him about the ring. The baseball world had just concluded it was either a secret wife or for the style since he never gave an answer.

“I think you have to go do your whole superman thing.” She pointed at his watch that he was trying to ignore.

Kenji groaned a little, calling for a ride so she could get back to his place. MINA had already gotten to them by the time the watch had started to blare.

“Ken, it is time to mitigate the primary conflict in Shinjuku.” MINA did a bow with their robot body. She tried to throw a pebble at MINA to test for reaction time, that being said MINA caught the rock. She shrugged.

Back at the dungeon, also known as the Ultrabase much to her distaste for a name like that, she was surprised to see an elderly man with a crutch sitting on the couch in the central living room.

He was watching a big hologram screen, which now clearly looked like Kenji (in Ultraman form) fighting with a pink monster dragon thing. When he got a particularly nasty body slam she sucked in some air through her teeth.

“Ahh, hello strange girl in the Ultraman base.” He circled her for a moment, his crutch slowing down his assessment of her.

“Ahh, hi strange grandpa in the Ultraman base.” She waved, and the older gentleman introduced himself as Professor Sato.

“Kenji’s dad?” She checked.

“Yes, I’m his father.” She nods, getting a glass of water.

When Kenji gets back to the base, that’s when things get a little crazy. What was once a slimy egg turned into a cute komodo dragon mutant baby. She was all over the baby in an instant, trying to get to know it better.

“She’s adorable. I love her.” She was tapping the glass of the containment cylinder, cooing at the infant Kaiju. The baby seemed to respond positively, making little coos back and stomping around a little.

Kenji just folded his arms and took it all in. He was still trying to get rid of his dad, despite his father’s willingness to help out. He just couldn’t balance it all without Hayao’s help, he realized. Especially when Emi needed more assistance, and help avoiding the KDF’s insistent attacks. She loved Emi, despite the Kaiju having the ability to totally crush her, Emi reciprocated quickly to her. Considering the contrast in how long it took for Kenji to demonstrate that his Ultaman form and his regular self were the same through systematic desensitization.

They became a family, even if a family consisted of a pro-baseball player, his fake wife/best friend, an estranged but loving father, a Kaiju baby, and a robot assistant.

A learning curve consisted of a lot more mistakes and complaining, but at the end of it all, Kenji had to commit. He was Ultraman now. He needed to protect Tokyo. At least now he had a support system he could rely on. Slowly, changes occurred with him. Putting others before himself, really truly thinking about life and the value of other human beings. The catalyst was a Kaiju baby named Emi, especially the way that said Kaiju baby loved openly.

The misadventures of raising Emi were wild and laced with KDF fights, but in the end, Kenji and his dad were brought together by defending Kaiju in a unique way. The monsters weren’t intentionally villains, humans had just made them out to be like that. That’s life though, people defining and categorizing things into concepts and schemas that made sense to them.

That’s what his dad was doing when he and Emiko separated. Hayao was trying to find ways to open human eyes to the world and beauty of Kaiju. Living in tandem with them may not have been immediately possible but why shouldn’t it be ever given a chance? Professor Sato, his dad, wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, he was trying his best to make the world a little bit better. Forgiving a father who he once believed left him wasn’t an easy road, but it was a path that needed to be traveled.

Saying goodbye to Emi was rough, yet, the Kaiju Island was close enough to go and visit on occasion. Baseball was great, winning the championship and going into a post-season diffusement.

Yet, Kaiju still came and wreaked havoc, and Kenji still had to fight and protect Japan. Even if that meant coming back to the base bloodied and bruised. She was almost always there, wrapping his arms in white bandages and wiping off blood with towels. Running ice baths and making cold soba noodles.

Which is what she was doing at this moment, rinsing the noodles in ice water and stirring a sweet sauce for Kenji to pour over rather than dunk his noodles into.

He was resting a frozen water bottle on his shoulder, hoping it would numb the pain, the Kaiju just had to try and rip his good arm off didn’t it?

“Hey, can I come in? Got your soba.” She knocked on the bathroom door using her elbow, since both hands were carrying bowls of soba with sauce containers precariously resting on her lower palms.

“Yeah, I’m wearing swim trunks.”

“Good because I’m not ready to see you naked, like, ever.” She chuckled, but pulled a chair next to the ceramic tub, breaking her chopsticks and saying a quick itadakimasu. He copied her, immediately drowning his noodles in the sauce she set on the edge of the tub. She rolled her eyes at his action.

He laughed a little, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, “What, it tastes better like this.”

She hummed an affirmative sound, but her eyes glinted with an agree to disagree conclusion.

The noodles had been fully digested, but she was still there, dipping her fingers into the water and making small swirls. The frigid temperature makes her fingers feel detached from her body.

Kenji lowers himself in the tub for a moment, getting his hair wet. When he came back up, she was pushing his bangs away from his face, smiling. Her hand stayed in his hair, brushing the strands away from his face as they dropped droplets down the back of his neck and then into the tub again. The ice cubes bumped into each other, melting slowly but steadily.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, uttering a few words, “Hot tub?”

She nods and heads out of the bathroom to get a swimsuit on.

The pool on the second to bottom floor of the base had an attached hot tub. He turned on the low lights, leaving the space in a warm brown shade of yellow light. The glass wall gave an outlook over the city and the ocean that surrounded the base.

MINA zoomed into the pool area, “Shall I put on some smooth jazz Ken?”

“No. Do not do that.” Kenji waved off MINA with red stinging his ears. MINA states they were just trying to speed up the whole process, and quoted one of her favorite phrases adding an addendum of MINA’s understanding and AI learning, “For the love of the process, especially if it's about love.”

The hot tub was warm, not quite boiling, but warm. She rested her arms on the outside ledge of the tub, looking out through the window. Kenji came to her side and replicated how she was positioned, before remembering that his shoulder hurt and gave out a small sound of displeasure. She giggled a little, rubbing the back of his shoulder where there weren't any distinct injuries.

“You’ve changed a lot since we were in high school.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head so that it was on her crossed arms.

“That’s what happens with time.” He wants to ask why she brought up his self-improvement. But she cuts him off before any words settle in his mouth.

“Yeah, but you’ve made a lot of great changes. You’re actually friends with your teammates now. And you’ve taken on this whole responsibility for an entire country. You aren’t just Kenji Sato, you’re also Ken Sato, and Ultraman, and I like to think you’ve fully embraced your father again, and not to mention our friendship.” She looks up at the ceiling, “You’re like an actual adult now.”

“I’ve been an adult for way longer than you.”

“But not like this, like an actual responsible person. You can juggle everything now.”

She sniffles a little, “Which is why I can understand if you don’t want me to stay once I finish my program you know?”

Kenji grabs a hold of one of her hands, “What the hell? Why would you ever think I’d want to kick you out?”

She shrugs.

He continues, “I hate to say it, but I think you’re stuck with me. You know too much about my dark secrets.” She smirks in response to his teasing tone.

Kenji dives deeper into things he wished he would’ve said earlier.

“I mean, you already have the ring to prove it too.” Her mouth gapes open a little, raising an eyebrow.

It would be amiss to say that this wouldn’t alter everything, but it was time.

“I know that we’ve only ever been friends, but you need to know what I feel.”

“I think I already know.” She cups the side of his face, and he pulls her into him, and makes her face him. She’s sitting on the expanse of his thighs, and he looks up at her from how he’s leaning back onto the wall of the hot tub.

Wrapping arms around his neck, careful to not rest too much of her arm on his shoulder, she brings their noses to brush against each other.

“Mine now? Right? You’re mine now?” When she doesn’t respond he continues, “Pretty please? Mine?”

“I thought you said you never begged?” She grazes his lips with her own and he sighs with a light shudder in his chest.

“I’ll beg for this, for you.”

“Fair enough.”

He tightens his grip and pulls her flush to him. Angling his neck up and tilting his head, he kisses her. She smiles too much for it to be a proper kiss, but he keeps pressing against her mouth. When she stops smiling and starts responding with her own pressure of lips to lips, he has to suppress the hunger to bite her.

His tongue brushes against her bottom lip and she opens her mouth for him, he runs his tongue along the inner lining of her mouth before biting on the tip of her tongue when she tries to take her turn. He chuckles when she pulls back a little, nose crinkled and lips wet.

“C’mere.” He trails kisses down the side of her face, going to her neck and collarbones, glad that her swimsuit was low cut enough for him to graze the top of her chest, where the rise of her curves began. She just presses kisses to the top of his head while her hand tangles into the hair at his nape, twisting the locks into fake curls.

When their fingers were wrinkled from the water in the hot tub, they showered and curled up on his bed, watching a meaningless show.

“So, my thoughts are that we can just skip the dating thing and go straight to marriage since legally we already are.”

“My mom will kill me.”

“Good thing she loves me, just say we eloped.” He wraps his good arm around her and pulls her down to lay on the pillows. She snuggles into the silk blend pillow cases and murmurs a little, tired from a long day. He caresses the side of her face and rests his hand on her hip.

MINA flits around the base, erasing specific footage from the recordings in the pool room, for everyone’s benefit.

Kenji paced back and forth in the base, waiting for her to get back from babysitting Chiho, hoping that Ami’s date would end shockingly early for his benefit.

He’s still on the phone with her, “I don’t want to wait to see you.” He kicks a throw pillow that had fallen on the ground from the couch.

“Have patience, I’ll be back around one AM.”

“This is spousal abuse.”

“It really isn’t”

MINA chimed in and agreed with her, so she exclaimed and said that even a robot knows the truth that Kenji was just a little clingy.

“I think you should stop watching other people’s babies and come take care of your family. And by family, I mean me.”

“I know what you meant.”

He looks to the clock, three more hours of waiting would be excruciating. But at least she’d be back in time for him to wish her an extremely early happy anniversary with the new ring he got.

#ultraman #ultraman: rising #ultraman x reader #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman rising #friends to lovers #slowburn #hot tubs play a role there somewhere #ken sato x reader #identity reveal #girl dad fr #best friends #best friends to lovers #pining #childhood friends to lovers #mutual pining #lilly's red string of fate

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itsnesss · 23 days ago

Note

Request where fem!reader was a winner of the games and helps Jun-ho’s search in season two. He’s very respectful/cautious with her because of her trauma. After a certain point they both like each other but he’s still trying to be professional (?)/and a gentleman until the reader gets so fed up and is just like bro?? Kiss me 🤨 I’ll even throw in a snickers bar if there’s smut

𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | hwang jun-ho × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | post trauma themes, smut, explicit content, fingering (reader!receives), oral sex (jun-ho!receives), p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 3.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The sea breeze blows gently as you walk alongside Jun-ho. The tension between you is palpable, though the silence remains. The ocean seems endless, just like the memories you carry since you survived the Games. Here, in this unfamiliar place, the answers you seek feel increasingly distant. But you can’t stop. You won’t.

"Are you ready?" Jun-ho’s voice is deep, almost as if he’s hoping you’ll say no.

You glance at him sideways. Always so serious, so controlled. If there’s one thing you’ve learned since surviving the Games, it’s that you can’t fully trust anyone—not yet. But Jun-ho, he’s different. His respect for you is clear, and though his professional demeanor keeps him distant, you know that, somehow, he cares.

"Yes," you reply firmly, though deep down, an unease grows. It’s not just the island that frightens you, but everything that might have been left behind. Everything you’ll never know.

Jun-ho approaches but keeps his distance, as he always does. He’s not one to touch you or show affection, and though you appreciate it, something inside you yearns for him to break that barrier. To see you as more than just a survivor, as someone with feelings.

The boat ride feels long, but the worst is yet to come. The island remains out of reach, a shadow on the horizon that seems to shift with the wind. Each time you look at it, anxiety grows within you.

Once on solid ground, you head into the island’s interior. The dense vegetation and towering trees seem to swallow every step you take. The air is heavy, and every sound, every crack, feels threatening. The tension rises as you navigate the terrain, but there’s no sign of what you’re looking for.

Time passes, and though you don’t want to admit it, discouragement begins to seep into your bones. Jun-ho says nothing. He knows you won’t find anything here—he knows it as well as you do. But he keeps searching, as if his footsteps could force the island to reveal its darkest secret.

You stop, staring at the horizon. The island is empty. The memory of what happened here drowns in the stillness of the landscape, but that doesn’t change how you feel: a sense of emptiness, of something missing, something you’ll never complete.

Jun-ho stops beside you, his breathing steady, though his posture is tense. He doesn’t look at you directly, as if waiting for a signal that it’s over, that you can both leave.

"We tried," he says finally, his voice calm yet slightly broken. As if he already knew but needed you to accept it. "But it’s not here."

Silence settles between you. Frustration consumes you, but there’s something else, something you can’t name. The way his voice falters, how he shows vulnerability in front of you, is something you’ve never seen before.

"And now what?" you ask, your tone laced with frustration. "Is that it? We just leave and forget what happened?"

Jun-ho takes a moment before answering, looking into the distance as if hoping the scenery might inspire some kind of answer.

"No, this isn’t everything. But maybe the answers aren’t here," he says, and at the end of his words, his tone changes—something more personal. He steps closer to you, and though he doesn’t touch you, you feel the space between you shrink.

His presence feels more tangible, and for a moment, forgetting everything else, you wonder if you can truly trust him. Not just as an ally, but as someone who might understand you beyond the Games, beyond survival.

"What will you do now?" you ask, this time your voice tinged with uncertainty, with an emotion you don’t know how to handle.

Jun-ho watches you closely. The way he does, as if measuring every word, unsettles you. You can’t read what’s going on in his head, but there’s something in his eyes that seems to say more than his voice could. As if he’s inviting you to step closer, to seek something between you both that neither of you has dared to name.

The tension between you is undeniable. The silence, though heavy, is a witness to the unspoken emotions. For a moment, the distance between you feels like an abyss, but in his gaze, there’s something inviting you to bridge it.

You don’t know what to do. Confusion, exhaustion, and anxiety swirl within you, and the desire for him to make a decision consumes you. But Jun-ho doesn’t take the step, doesn’t touch you, doesn’t say anything more.

Finally, frustration takes over. You’ve stayed strong for so long, but this… this is breaking you. You need something more, something to make you feel whole again. And for some reason, you seek it in him, in someone you’ve come to respect deeply.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him. A quick, impulsive kiss, but filled with everything you’ve kept inside: the pain, the fear, the need for something more. You don’t know why you do it, but in that instant, everything seems to overflow.

Jun-ho freezes at first, surprised by your action, but he quickly responds. His hands settle on your waist, and the contact, though unexpected, sparks something between you both. The tension that had built for so long finally erupts in a single gesture.

When you pull away, both of you are breathing heavily. His expression is hard to read, but he doesn’t look upset—not at all. There’s a mix of astonishment and something else, something that makes you wonder if this tension has been there all along.

"Why didn’t we say anything before?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Jun-ho doesn’t answer immediately. He takes a moment, as if carefully choosing his words. Finally, he leans closer, his face so near to yours that you can feel his breath.

"Because I don’t want you to regret it," he replies softly.

...

The boat ride back is marked by a heavy silence, but not for lack of words. Everything has changed since you kissed him on the island. Jun-ho sits across from you, but his gaze doesn’t meet yours. You can see how his hands rest on his knees, tense, as if he’s making a monumental effort to keep his composure.

You’re not any better. The closeness in that moment, the way his lips responded to yours, still burns in your mind. Your skin seems to remember every place where he touched you, his warmth, the way his body leaned into yours. And now, the tension you’d both ignored for days feels like it’s finally spilled over.

Eventually, the rocking of the waves forces you to steady yourself. You lean on the ship’s railing, and when you do, you feel his hand brush against yours. It’s an accidental touch, you know, but it sends a shiver down your spine. You look at him, and his eyes are fixed on you.

No words are needed. You lean toward him, and this time there’s no hesitation. Jun-ho pulls you into his arms and kisses you with an intensity you never imagined. His lips are firm, desperate, as if he’s held back all that desire for days, weeks, maybe months.

The sound of the sea and the sway of the boat fade away. There’s only him, his body close to yours, his hands finding their way to your waist. You can’t stop him, and you don’t want to. Every time you try to pull back to breathe, his lips find yours again, hungry, eager, as if you both know this moment can’t be enough.

"This isn’t professional," he murmurs against your mouth, though he makes no effort to pull away.

"Then stop doing it," you reply, your fingers tangling in his hair, forcing him to continue.

He laughs against your lips, a low, rough sound, before surrendering completely. What started as a kiss ends in desperate caresses, his hands exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and restrained passion. Every touch ignites a fire inside you that you didn’t know existed.

Finally, you both separate as the boat reaches the dock. The return to reality is abrupt, but the heat between you doesn’t dissipate. You walk to your house in silence, though your fingers graze his as you move forward, as if neither of you can bear the idea of being too far apart.

When you finally open your front door, the initial awkwardness returns. Jun-ho seems hesitant, as if debating whether to stay or not.

"Do you want to come in?" you ask, though the answer is evident in his eyes.

"Only if you’re sure," he replies, his tone low but full of emotion.

You don’t give him time to think. You take his hand and guide him inside, closing the door behind you.

The atmosphere changes immediately. The intimacy of your home seems to amplify what’s already happening between you. You barely have time to turn toward him before Jun-ho takes your waist and gently presses you against the wall. His lips find yours again, this time with more urgency, as if everything he held back during the journey is spilling out.

His hands explore your body with a perfect mix of softness and determination. You feel alive under his touch, every caress sending waves of heat through your skin. Your hands also explore, sliding over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles beneath his clothes.

Her breath quickens, her eyes shining with contained desire.

The moment he moves away from you a little, you can see the effort he makes to control himself.

"I promise you won't want this to end," he whispers, as if waiting for your response.

You don't wait. Your mouth finds his again, and this time the kiss transforms into something hungrier, more intense. His lips part just enough to allow his hand to remove your blouse, his gaze resting on your bare breasts with a mix of admiration and lust.

The feeling of being naked in front of him is exciting, and although a part of you feels the temptation to cover yourself, the look in his eyes stops you. You had never seen him like this, as someone who surrenders to passion. He is so different from what you expected, and yet, he is as real as the man who accompanies him.

A second later, Jun-ho kneels and begins to kiss your chest gently, as if it were your first encounter. Your breath quickens as his lips travel across your skin, kissing and caressing your breasts. His fingers glide over your shoulders to the waistband of your pants, unbuttoning them with a skill that makes you feel like a novice.

You don't protest. You don't want him to stop, although you don't want him to undress you completely just yet. There is still something you hope will happen, something you feel you can't lose.

A moment later, your pants are on the floor and his hands are sliding up your thighs, reaching the edge of your panties. You look him in the eyes, seeing how his pupils dilate as his fingers slide under the cotton.

Her touch is light, but it makes you shiver, as if you had never been touched like this before. Her fingers continue exploring, finding your clitoris with a gentle yet determined touch. The sensation is so good that you can't hold back a moan.

"Do you like it?" he asks in a low voice, although his gaze shines with the answer.

You nod your head, although your response seems insufficient for him. His fingers begin to caress your lips with a skill you didn't expect. His rhythm is fast at first, then it slows down, as if he were waiting for you to get used to his touch.

The pleasure is overwhelming. His fingers seem to know exactly what you need to feel to surrender. The rhythm picks up again, and you can feel something inside you approaching the edge.

"Jun-ho" you moan, your hips starting to move in search of more.

He smiles against your mouth, his fingers increasing their pace once more. The feeling that you're going to explode is getting stronger, but you can't stop. You don't want to stop.

Finally, a wave of pleasure consumes you, making you moan his name. His fingers don't stop until you feel exhausted, your breath ragged, your body trembling.

But the pleasure doesn't end there. Jun-ho continues caressing you while kissing you softly on the mouth, on the neck, on your shoulders. His fingers reach your clitoris again, this time faster, more determined.

"God!" you moan when the pleasure returns, as if you hadn't been on the verge of exploding just minutes before.

Jun-ho smiles again, but his eyes shine with a lustful desire. His fingers continue to caress you mercilessly, as if he expects to push you to the limit once more.

"How many times can you?" he asks, his breath quickening, his lips on your neck.

You can't respond. Your body trembles with pleasure, but somehow, you feel you can go on longer. Jun-ho smiles once more, and a second later, his fingers caress your clitoris again, this time with demonic skill.

You moan his name when the sensation of orgasm returns, although this time it is stronger. The pleasure is overwhelming, so intense that you might feel yourself collapse into his arms.

Finally, his fingers stop and you take a moment to catch your breath. But the tension remains, palpable between the two of you.

"How do you feel?" Jun-ho whispers softly, his breath on your neck.

Your fingers tangle in her hair, and you catch her to kiss her mouth. Her response is instantaneous, her tongue finding yours as she presses you against her body.

"I don't feel complete" you reply softly, looking directly at him. "Not yet".

Jun-ho nods, and a second later his mouth meets yours once again. His fingers touch you everywhere, roaming your body with desire. Finally, you feel his fingers searching for the zipper of his pants, and an emotion consumes you as you realize what is about to happen.

When his fingers reach the zipper, a second of indecision floods you. You haven't seen him like this, naked and vulnerable in front of you. How will he feel?

You don't have time to ask yourself anything else. His fingers release his erection, and surprise floods you as you see how big it is. You didn't know what to expect, but this is much more than you imagined.

His fingers caress her, as if she were offering herself to you.

"Do you want to taste" he whispers in a low voice, and something in his tone makes you understand that he doesn't have much experience with this.

You nod your head. It's your opportunity to touch, to feel, to do something more than just feel.

You bend down and touch his erection. It's hard, but soft at the same time. Your fingers caress her skin, feeling it pulse beneath your touch.

"Do you want me to do it?" you ask in a low voice, your gaze meeting theirs.

Jun-ho nods, his eyes shining with desire. The way he looks at you makes you feel strong, as if nothing can stop you.

You move a little closer and gently kiss the tip of his erection. The sensation is strange but pleasant. His fingers rest on your shoulders as he watches you, as if he can't believe what's happening.

Even though you are not a virgin, Jun-ho's size is intimidating, but you don't stop. You take his erection into your mouth and gently touch it with the tip of your tongue.

Jun-ho moans when he feels your touch. His gaze pierces you, his breath ragged. His fingers search for your hair and cradle you as you kiss his erection with more passion.

Finally, his erection begins to enter your mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, but you don't stop, feeling every inch that enters you. Jun-ho moans again when you feel his testicles against your lips.

Her breathing becomes erratic, her fingers tightening in your hair.

"No, I can't take it anymore!" he screams, gently pulling you out of her body.

You look at him in surprise, but his fingers pull you closer and he kisses you desperately. The need between the two of you is palpable.

"Are you sure?" he asks a moment later, his breath still ragged.

"Yes" you respond in a low voice. "Yes, I want to do it".

Jun-ho nods a moment later, and his fingers take you by the waist. A second later, you find yourself in your bed, with him between your legs.

"Do you mind if this is quick?" he asks, his fingers brushing your inner lips gently.

"No" you respond quickly. You can't wait any longer.

You feel him brushing against your entrance with his member. His fingers continue to caress your clitoris as he slowly enters you. The sensation is incredible, his erection so big that you can feel it throbbing in your body.

The penetration is slow and painful, but it is also exciting. Finally, his erection enters you completely, and Jun-ho pauses for a moment to let you get used to his size.

"You're so tight" he whispers very softly, his lips brushing against yours.

"So perfect".

"Don't stop" you moan.

Jun-ho laughs for a second before he starts to move, his rhythm initially slow but then quick and desperate. The sound of their bodies joining is audible in the room, sweat covering their bodies as they move with desperation.

The feeling is overwhelming. You didn't expect something like this, something so intense, but here it is. Everything comes down to this moment, to his body inside yours.

Pleasure takes hold of you once again. His fingers caress your clitoris once more as he moves inside you, and you can feel something within you starting to grow.

Finally, a third orgasm consumes you. You moan his name as his body tightens around you, the sensation that he also reaches climax.

"God... " shouts Jun-ho, his breath very agitated as he collapses onto you.

Your arms wrap around his body, feeling his fingers gently touch your back. You can't stop looking at him, the expression of pleasure on his face is incredible. You didn't expect it to be like this.

#squid game smut #jun ho squid game #squid game 2 #squid games #squid game #squid game x fem!reader #squid game x reader smut #squid game x reader #hwang jun ho x reader #hwang jun ho #jun ho x reader #hwang junho #hwang jun ho smut

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calypsocolada · 5 days ago

Text

how they are when they’re in love… ft. rengoku, tengen, sanemi, giyu, & haganezuka

an: welllllll hellloooo. i apologize for the wait! thanks for the request :) this was so fun to write :) pls enjoy!

request: "hi, i love your writing so much, your characterization is seriously on point <3 can i request kny x hashira reader about how they’d be like when they’d have romantic feelings for the reader? tysm if you choose to do this but it’s understandable if not <3"

cw: fem reader

wc: 6.7k

It’s the little things. Rengoku isn’t stubborn. He doesn’t hide things and he’s not ashamed. He realizes quite early on that there is something about you. Something that draws his eye. You’re not someone flashy or boisterous. You’re just someone that makes his mind wander. He likes your smile, he’s told you so. He likes when you blush, something so rare because you are so seemingly serious to most. He likes your sword style and the way you fight. He likes your voice and how if he catches you late at night your voice has a softer edge to it because you’re tired. He likes making you laugh and buying you food. He likes that you eat just about as much as him and doesn't seem to mind his loud voice. So sure, all of those things could easily tell him that he’s in love with you but… but it was just one single thing that solidified it all in his mind.

Rengoku had a cold father. He had a warm mother and a kind little brother. He liked his family but part of him was… hesitant to start his own. His father never warmed to him. No matter what he did. He didn’t know if that was something he’d turn into. And he really didn’t want to take a chance. But… then he met you. And suddenly taking that chance seemed inevitable. Being with you seemed to weigh on his mind night and night again. He used to love winding down for the night until he met you, a cold demon slayer. Now he laid awake and thought of you. His father was cold and sometimes… you reminded him of him. Your coldness didn’t seem malicious but… it was still there. Still a gentle reminder that he needed more time to know you. His only glaring spiraling thought being; would you always be cold or would you warm to him?

“Lost in thought?” You interrupted his spiraling. He swallowed and smiled softly over at you.

“A bit.” He answered cheerfully but his smile faltered as you stared at him intently. That stare felt as though you could see straight into his soul, cutting through all the barriers and barricades he’s built.

“You’re not eating. That’s troubling.” You pointed out.

“I’m fine.” He lied with a smile, reaching for his chopsticks. Your eyes tracked his hands movement and he found himself blushing at how closely you were observing him.

“Is it the mission?” You asked, picking up and taking a sip of your warm green tea. Rengoku shook his head.

“I didn’t mean to worry you. Really I’m fine.”

“So it’s not the mission.” You concluded, crossing your arms over your chest in thought. He stared at you for a moment and you stared back. “Tell me what it is.” You said and although he’s heard you demand things of others before this was no demand. It was a gentle question with a soft tone.

There was a table between you two, a crowded restaurant with talking patrons but suddenly the room just felt empty, you being the only person his eyes wanted to see. He couldn’t just up and say he was thinking about you because it just wouldn’t come out right. He parted his lips to speak but nothing substantial crossed his mind. You observed all of it.

“Never mind. Tell me when you’re ready.” You said just as softly, and when he met your eyes there was no ounce of coldness in them. He felt warm all over. Nothing he’d ever felt before. He couldn’t believe he had ever for a single moment thought you were anything like his father. You chose your words wisely, no you didn’t smile much but that made your smiles that much more meaningful when he had to work for them.

”I’m in love with you.” Rengoku said without a second thought. Your hand paused, eyes stuck on the plate in front of you.

“Hm?” You asked, as though you hadn’t heard him loud and clear. Slowly your eyes rose to meet him. Those five words were written all over his face, his soft gaze, the slight smile on his lips. You blushed almost immediately.

”I’m in love with you.” Rengoku affirmed, no shyness. Your lips parted in silent surprise.

”Oh.” You said, unable to properly digest his words at this very moment. “You are?”

”I am.” He nodded his head, leaning back in his chair. You purse your lips, embarrassed. Rengoku didn’t push the subject, he paid for the meal and when you both stood he wrapped a shawl around you and you followed him out the door into the stinging winter morning.

You trailed behind him a few steps, walking in the indents of the snow he left. Rengoku stood out in the snow, like a sore thumb with his bright hair and fire eyes. He stood out everywhere. You reached out, barely grabbing the back of his cloak. He paused, barely turning, eyes holding that same soft gaze. There were a lot of things you weren’t sure of. Your place in the demon slayer corp for one, you standing with your peers, how this next mission was going to go. But there was one thing you were clear on.

“I love you too.” You said softly, snow falling around you two. Rengoku turned more, snow crunching underfoot. You could barely meet his eyes, blushing profusely, hoping he’d think it was from the cold. He reached for you, hand sliding around your hip, barely tugging you a step closer. He kissed you then, leaning into your space and meeting your lips with a gentle press of his own. He pulled back long enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on, let's get you somewhere warm.”

Tengen was quick to fall for you. He is not embarrassed or abashed by what he feels for you. He loves loudly. It was like the cliff was in sight and then suddenly he was toppling over it with reckless abandon. It's not like you paid him any extra attention. He was a lot and you were shy, you tried your hardest to dodge him if you were being honest. But he found you. He always found you. And more importantly he saw you. Saw through the shy, curt expressions you wore.

This time he found you at the butterfly mansion. He was recuperating from a recent mission when you were brought in, bloody and bruised. He could barely walk but he came to your bedside the first two nights. Or so you were told, you had been out for those two days. When you woke up the first day one of the girls changing your bandages told you about him staying with you and being forced away from your side.

The next morning you woke up and Tengen was dead asleep in the chair next to your bed. The sight was… something. He was a Hashira and you were a slayer. He was always put together when you’d see him but… he was disheveled, his white hair a mess from sleep, his face serene. It was… it took your breath away. Something about his vulnerability and sudden softness made your heart quicken in your chest.

You pushed up in your bed, it groaned gently under your weight and you paused as Tengen stirred. He moved just a bit before settling right back down. You pushed out of the bed after a moment. You’d overstayed your welcome at the mansion, you felt fine enough to travel and there was something… intimate about Tengen wasting so much time by your side when he should be focused on himself.

Gathering your things up you moved quietly through the room, you slung your bag over your shoulder and reached for the door.

“Leaving so soon?” His voice was smooth and rich from sleep. Your hand paused. Hoping in vain that you had heard things but then you heard him pushing up in the chair he was slouched in. You cleared your throat.

“I was assigned a new mission.”

“I’ll accompany you.” He says and you spin around, shaking your head.

“No need. You’re recovering.”

“And so are you.” He says, pushing to his feet and stretching like a giant animal. You purse your lips as he yawns.

“I’m fine. You’re a hashira, you shouldn’t waste time on low level missions.” You say as Tengen raises a brow.

“Low level?” He echoes, looking slightly amused. You nodded your head doubling down on your statement. He smiled at you, laughing slightly. He looked… entirely too handsome like this. You looked away, blushing. “Regardless of mission difficulty I’d still like to accompany you.” You swallowed, the room was small. Tengen’s hair was down, mussed a bit from sleep. Cheek still a bit red where he had fallen asleep leaning against his hand. You could barely look at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m sure you have more pressing things to do.” You offered and Tengen just brushed away your attempt with a wave of his hand. He walked towards the door where you stood and reached, brushing past you to pull open the door. He invaded your space, large and not entirely imposing. You felt startlingly comfortable this close to him yet at the same time your heart was in your mouth impeding your speech.

“Give me ten minutes to clean up. Don’t leave without me, little slayer.” He smirked, brushing past you to disappear down the hallway.

“Wait,” You called after him and he paused. You stood awkwardly halfway in the hallway and halfway in your room, the cold air of the hallway brushing against your flushed skin. He cocked his head at you. You bit your lip, leaning against the door jamb before sighing.

“I don’t… have a mission. I was just… trying to slip out.” You explained feeling guilty and a bit silly. Tengen didn’t look surprised, rather he just looked amused. He nodded his head.

“Is that so?” He asked, slowly walking towards you in the dim light of the hallway. You watched him approach, heat churning through you.

“Mister Uzui-”

“Oh, that’s nice.” He smirks at your attempt at professionalism.

“I’m sorry for lying.” You blushed as Tengen actually laughed.

“I forgive you.” Tengen drawled as he approached you. You watched with bated breath as he reached and tucked your hair back out of your face.

“Mister-”

“You can call me Tengen.” He cut in softly, his hand lingering on your cheek.

“Tengen…” You cooed and that was the moment. Like a twig snapping in the forest. Quick and precise. There is not a single other person in this world he’d rather hear his name spoken by. His eyes dropped to your mouth. Your lips moved but he hadn’t heard a word you said.

“I’m sorry,” He murmured. “I can’t focus.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to kiss you.” He said sort of like a warning. You blushed to your bone and couldn’t find it in yourself to pretend you hadn’t been wanting that. You nodded your head and parted your lips to answer but Tengen ducked his head, lips cutting off your barely formed sentence.

Sanemi’s love is consuming, it's possessive. He watched you from afar, eyes drinking in your every little movement. He watched you dive forwards, practice sword in hand as you evaded a clever strike from your opponent. You launched, foot forwards as you sent the boy sprawling backwards on the ground, dust kicking up around him. Sanemi set up, he couldn’t hide the smirk that stretched across his lips as you swung your sword forwards and pointed it at the boy.

Ruthlessness. That's something Sanemi didn’t see much. Your swordplay was exact and left no room for imagination. He could see you becoming a Hashira in no time.

The boy raised his hands in mock surrender and you reached a free hand out, pulling him to his feet. Sanemi’s eyes narrowed. The boy said something and the smile and laugh that sprung from you had Sanemi’s stomach in knots. He clapped his hands together in an instant.

“Training’s done. Leave my sight.” He called out to the group of you. “Except you. You stay.” He pointed to you. The smile died on your face as your sparring partner patted your shoulder as he walked by, good luck he mouthed before jogging to catch up with the other slayers. You swallowed dryly as you heard Sanemi approach you. You steeled your expression and turned.

“Do you think at the end of a fight with a demon you can extend your hand to them and yank them to their feet?” Sanemi asked as you furrowed your brows.

“Uh- um… no…” you answered confusedly. Sanemi stared hard at you for a moment.

“Um no? You sounded unsure.”

“No.” You answered, more sure this time.

“The point of sparring and winning isn’t to give up when your opponent raises their hands, it’s to have them tap out in submission.” Sanemi chided as you nodded your head. He didn’t like the playing around after the match it seemed.

“I understand.”

“So what was so funny?” Sanemi asked as you blinked slowly.

“Hm?”

“What was so funny? After your spat. What could that idiot possibly say to make you laugh?” You stared at him for a long… long moment. Not only could you not remember what your partner had said but also… Why did Sanemi seem to care so much? You shifted slightly, twirling your practice sword in the dirt.

“I’ll be better next time.” You said, hoping that would appease this strange attitude Sanemi was sporting. Sanemi looked you over for a minute.

“Has anyone asked you to be their tsuguko?”

“Yes, Mr. Shinazugawa.” You nodded your head and Sanemi moved a step closer.

“Ah. Is that so?” He asks, reaching up to run a hand through his unruly white hair.

“Just a few offers.”

“Who offered?”

“Um… Ms. Kanroji, Mr. Tengen, Mr. Rengoku, and Mr. Tomioka.” You name off, with each name Sanemi’s face gets a bit redder. You clear your throat. “T-that’s all.”

“Be my Tsuguko.” He says, his eyes connect with yours. You swallow. Out of all the Hashira… Sanemi was the only one you were wanting to train under. It was purely out of admiration and definitely not for anything… else.

“Is— is that a serious offer?” You asked, eyes lighting up. Sanemi nodded his head and you couldn’t help the smile that took over your whole face. “I accept.” You said graciously. Sanemi turned away.

“Good. We start in the morning.” He said over his shoulder. You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you.

“Yes, Mr. Shinazugawa.”

“Sanemi.” He said and your lips parted, brows furrowing softly.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to be so formal, we’re the same age.” He says before walking off. You watched him go, smile stuck to your lips.

Two months passed and Sanemi was a ruthless teacher. He ran you ragged everyday, but you could feel yourself improving. You could feel the power in your swing’s strengthening. You knew you made a good choice training under him. You kept your rampant feelings at bay in favor of professionalism but… it was hard. You felt guilty for having these feelings and so you decided to tell Sanemi you were going to become someone else’s tsuguko.

On Sanemi’s end there was something stirring. A sort of thorn in his side. He was… incredibly… stupidly… in love with you. He’d thought he’d just been fascinated with you at first and yeah… he is fascinated with you. But it’s much more than fascination at this point. Spending day and night, trading you up he could see why the other slayers would gather around you like a flock. He could see the appeal in telling stupid jokes just to see a smile. Ever since he’d asked you to be his tsuguko and you smiled at him he’d been chasing that high ever fucking since. It was addicting. Your smile, your laugh, your voice and smell and the way you fought it was all being captured and cataloged in his mind.

Even now as he swung his sword to meet yours his eyes swept over your face, full of concentration, his heart swayed unevenly in his chest. He stepped back.

“That’s good enough for tonight, good defense.” He commented as you breathed heavily.

“Thank you.” You said almost breathless, walking over to place your practice sword with the others.

“Wait,” Sanemi called after you. You passed, turning.

“Yes?” You asked. Sanemi looked at you, he turned, gathering his thoughts.

“You’ve… improved incredibly.” He says, scratching the back of his head. He wasn’t looking at you as he said it and for some reason you needed him to. You walked a bit closer, stepping in his eyeline.

“You’re a good teacher.”

“You’re a quick learner.”

“I.. don’t know about that.” You laughed slightly. He stepped closer, he never licked when you talked down about yourself and he wasn’t going to change that about himself now.

“You are. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I didn’t…” you cleared your throat. “I know that. Would you… give me some more truths?”

“Hm?” Sanemi hummed and met your eyes.

“Mr. Shina- er… Sanemi…” you steeled yourself. “At the… risk of making things awkward… I can’t really keep things… at bay much longer.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m… in love with you. It’s… affecting my ability to be… ya know… professional.” You stumbled. Sanemi watched you, you watched his lips barely part in surprise and decided to prattle on. “You are under no obligation to say anything to me. I already spoke with Ms. Kanroji and she said she’ll take me off your hands-“

“Off my hands?” Sanemi echoed, taking a step closer to you.

“She’ll take me in as he tsuguko so you don’t have to deal with me and my… feelings.” You stumbled, red faced and embarrassed. You couldn't see his eyes anymore.

“You… you think I’d just kick you to the curb?” Sanemi asks as your eyes snap up to him.

“Well, I-“

“I don’t want anyone to take you off my hands. I want to keep you.” Sanemi declared. You were speechless. Sanemi reached for your hand. His hand was rough and scared but he held yours with gentleness. He brought it to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your knuckles. You watched this whole scene unfold… totally enraptured by this side of Sanemi. “Stay. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

“Sanemi…”

“I love you. Stay.”

Giyu’s love is peaceful, it’s quiet, it’s soft blushes and special moments. You hated him. You had to hate him. You had to. Because anything else would be unacceptable. It would be a complete betrayal to yourself. To the you that first met the unpleasant Mr. Tomioka. The you with wide unburdened eyes. The you that ran deliveries for your family, in your small town. Completely unaware of the dangers and… complete unfairness of the world.

Mr. Tomioka came to your town. He was short with you, he didn’t talk much and had these… soulless eyes. The whole town talked about him. Apparently he was something called a Hashira. That’s what your aunt told you, apparently she’d gotten a few more words out of him then most. He was in town to investigate a few of the disappearances. You didn’t see much of the need for him here considering the three ladies that disappeared left notes. A lady at the local cafe you were delivering to had told you the girls had each run off with a guy they each met a town over. You were quick to believe because one of the girls had drunkenly told you two nights before her disappearance that she had met someone. Called him dark and handsome. She prattled on for a bit about him and seemed excited to see him again.

“You spoke with her?” Mr. Tomioka asked you. He’d asked to have a few words with you about the girls after a day or so of him in town. You were… less inclined to speak with him because he had rubbed you the wrong way when he first arrived. Though this was no time for pride.

“Yes, she was at the local bar. She was drunk and talked about a man she met.”

“When was this?” He asked, those soulless eyes on you as you fiddled with your hands.

“Two days before she left.”

“Before she left? You don’t think she disappeared?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I guess I think she’s just with that guy.” You explained. Mr. Tomioka squinted his eyes at you, his face unchanging.

“Her parents are very worried about her. They say she’d never up and leave.” He explains as you purse your lips. You were going to argue with that. Her parents knew her better than anyone. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

“Mhm… well… she said the man she was going to meet lived in a town over.”

“All of the ladies missing have told their friends and families the same thing. They’re meeting a guy a town over. Only they’re not seen again.” Mr. Tomioka explains. You sit up slightly.

“Really?”

“Don’t gossip about this. This stays between us. I mean it.”

“I wouldn’t.” You declared sharply, slightly offended he would insinuate that you’d run your mouth about this. You were a listener. Not a talker, things said to you always remained a secret.

“Everyone else in this town foams at the mouth to spread things across town.”

“It’s a small town, Mr. Tomioka. People care for each other.” You grumbled, crossing your arms. “They like to be in the know so they can help when needed.”

“They’re nosy.” He argues. Your eyes sharpen, lips pouting slightly.

“They’re good people.” You pushed up from your seat. “Now if that’s all, Mr. Tomioka, I have work to get back to.”

“That’s not all.” He responded coldly. You stared at him, you didn’t sit back down. “There’s a link between the girls and I have a feeling you’ll be the next to disappear.”

“What?” You croaked. Mr. Tomioka didn’t convey any special feelings, he just reached for his tea and took a careful sip. He kept you waiting.

“The three women missing share various traits. Age, eye color, hair color, and body type. I believe a demon has an appetite for a specific type of woman.” Mr. Tomioka explained. You stared at him. You stared some more. You parted your lips to speak and then shut them. Did he just say… demon?

“I… believe I misunderstood. Do you mean demon as in evil?”

“I mean demon as in demon. I believe the creature is hunting pretty women like you and…” you zoned out. Demon? A creature? You couldn’t focus. You slowly sunk back into your chair. After a moment Mr. Tomioka noticed you not taking in his words. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is all a bit much for you.”

“Yes.” You nodded numbly.

“Miss, afford me your time. I believe you are in danger. Let me stick near you to keep you safe. I believe the demon will try something soon and I want to be there to intercept it.” He asks, leaning forwards.

“Whatever.” You waved him off. “I believe you are delusional but… I see no harm in humoring you at least till you figure out what happened to those girls.”

And stuck around Mr. Tomioka did. He walked you to and from work, assisted on your deliveries. As you slept he patrolled your cabin and watched out for your family. He ate with you at dinner and breakfast and lunch for at least a month and a half. Mr. Tomioka didn’t talk much and you tried getting anything out of him but he was all serious like. It was hard to get past that.

You had started to believe he was a mad man when suddenly you felt a cold hand around your wrist while you were walking to work. When you turned you saw the demon and then a flash of light as Mr. Tomioka’s sword arched and sliced the demon’s wrist into two. You stumbled back as Mr. Tomioka made quick work of the demon. His slice was clean and true and you watched, wide eyed and unblinking as the demon dusted to nothing. You could even muster a word, so utterly terrified and exhausted and completely at a loss. Mr. Tomioka sheathed his sword.

He was right. He was right about the creature about it coming for you. You fell to your knees. Mr. Tomioka was at your side in the blink of an eye.

“You hurt? I was quick to kill it, I thought.”

“Those girls?”

“Are resting easy now.” He says. Tears fill your eyes. You nod your head and look at the floor. You outlived those girls purely because of Mr. Tomioka. And you had been utterly and completely cold to him the moment he set foot in the town. Mr. Tomioka placed a careful hand on your back. “Can you stand?”

“Yes.” You answered shakily. Mr. Tomioka offered you a hand and you took it. His… his eyes didn’t look so soulless now. He held your cold hand in his warm hand. He didn’t let go. “Mr. Tomioka… Thank you. You… saved my life.”

“I’m glad you’re safe.” He answers you, his eyes connecting with yours. Your stomach dropped. A moment was shared. One where… you couldn’t believe for a moment you had despised this man.

The next morning you walked Mr. Tomioka to the train station. It was a quiet morning, dew stuck to the grass blades, a gentle fog rolled through the town. The train station was quiet, you two were the only ones there, even the train hadn’t arrived.

Giyu looked over at you. The way your dress swayed, the way you stayed directly beside him as you walked. Giyu… felt trouble the moment he arrived in this town and it wasn’t the demon lurking in the shadows. It was you. He felt it the moment he walked into your place of work and you smiled so brightly he had to look away. Talked so sweetly that he couldn't form a coherent thought. His words were clumsy and came out sharper than intended because he’d never been this nervous in front of a woman before. He’d saved you and still couldn’t manage to put to words the way you made him feel. He knew you’d come around on him. Knew he’d rubbed you the wrong way at first. But the warmth in your smile as you thanked him last night kept him from sleeping. And now he was leaving, a new mission in sight and three words dying to spring free from his lips.

“Quiet morning, it seems not many are leaving at this hour.” You observed as you stepped onto the train platform, Mr. Tomioka a step behind you.

“It’s nice.” He commented and you turned, smiling.

“It is.” The distant chugging of the train told you both that this little kinship you two had found with each other was coming to an end. “Oh! Mr. Tomioka… I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us and for… saving me but I wanted to give you this as thanks.” Your hands brushed as you handed him over some homemade food for his train ride. He nodded in thanks as the train pulled into the station. He lingered for a moment, he looked down at the food. You watched him, glancing towards the train, passengers filtering off. “Mr. Tomioka? You’ll miss your train.”

“May I visit again?”

“Hm?” You responded almost immediately.

“May I… come and visit… again?”

The question lingered in the air for a moment. You blinked, lips parting.

“Of course. My family loves you. In fact the whole town has warmed to you. I’m sure they’d love to have you back again, no demon lingering this time.”

“And… What about you?”

“Me?” You echoed. He finally met your eyes. Your stomach dropped.

“Have you… warmed to me?”

“Ah.” You cleared your throat. You wouldn’t lie. Not now… it seemed important in this moment not to mince words. “Very much so, Mr. Tomioka.” There was a small stretch of silence between you two. He clearly had felt the effect of your words. “Mr. Tomioka?”

“Please… please call me Giyu.”

“Giyu…” you tried his name out… you liked it. “If it wasn’t incredibly selfish of me to ask, I'd ask you to stay.”

“If it wasn’t incredibly selfish of me I would.” He returns.

“So we’re… in agreement.” You say and watch the ever stoic Giyu Tomioka smile. It was a small, shy sort of smile but it was a smile nonetheless. You’d catalogue it. The train horn honked, signifying it was about to take off. Giyu stepped close, his hand gently hovering by your cheek.

“May I? As a goodbye?” He asks. He didn’t even need to. You nodded your head and he leaned into your space and pressed his lips to yours. Softly. His thumb caressed your cheek and he deepened the kiss, his free hand wrapping around your hip. He pulled back, hands still on your hip and cheek. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll come back.” He promised and with that… he was gone.

Haganezuka’s love is confusing, confounding, a bit frightening… to everyone else that is.

Oh boy. You had… broken your first sword. The only piece you were about to recover laid pathetically in your hands. You shook with tears. It was just a sword. Why were you so worked up?

“That’s tough.” Mitsuri’s hand patted your back. “But a right of passage as a demon slayer.”

“You’ve done this?”

“Many times. Before I was a Hashira I broke at least ten of my swords.” She explains as you grip the piece in your hand. Turning to look at her. She’s smiling but then she cringes. “You’re going to have to request a new sword.”

“A new one?” You echo as she nods her head.

“We can travel to the swordsmith village together.” She smiles. “Do you remember the smith who made your sword?”

“Um. I believe it was Mr. Haganezuka.” You said and that smile dropped again.

“Mr. Haganezuka?” She echos. You nod your head. “Haganezuka? With the sunflower patterned haori? The wind chimes on his woven hat?”

“Yes, Ms. Kanroji.” You say, interest and eyebrows piqued. She blows out, running a stressed hand through her hair.

“You’re absolutely sure? You spoke with him before? You know his… nature?”

“His nature? I only saw him in passing. Mr.Urokodaki spoke with him.” You sigh slightly. “Is something the matter?”

“Yes. This… I was hoping it’d be a relaxing trip for you after our mission. But… well…” She pats your head. “Get packed, we’ll leave for the village in the morning.”

“Um, alright.” You said cautiously. You watch Mitsuri pout slightly as she pushes to her feet and trudges back towards her room.

The trek to the village took about three days. When you arrived you were surprised to see so many swordsmiths bustling around. Mitsuri had explained to you that Mr. Haganezuka was a character. She said he was intense and to disregard his actions. To say the least she had you nervous as you trekked up the path to his house. Mitsuri had taken off to the hot springs the moment you two stepped into the village and stated for you to meet her. That after talking to Mr. Haganezuka you were going to need some time to relax.

You sucked in a breath, hand reaching up as you rapped your knuckles against his workshop. It was deathly silent since he lived a bit sways from the village. You could hear the distant bustling but not much else. The door creaked open and the first thing you saw was the mask. You sucked in a breath, eyes wide.

“Yes?” His voice was muffled behind the mask. You stared, lips parted. You had fought demons but this scene had your heart on edge. His workshop was dark, he towered over you, looking down at you through the crack in the door.

“M-Mr. Haganezuka?” You asked, voice shaky. He nodded. “I’m… a d-demon slayer. You… made me a sword.” You explained. He didn’t answer, just stared down at you. You wished you could see his expression, you read people well and behind a mask he was a mystery to you. “I was Urokodaki’s student.” You tried again. Again he just started. You instinctively stepped back and reached for your bag. You pulled out your broken sword and presented it to him. His head moved as he looked at the broken sword then moved again as he met your eyes.

“Ah. I remember you.” Was all he said as you swallowed dryly.

“I— I appreciated the s-word you made me. It… it was a great help. Unfortunately… I— b-broke it. I’m… still t-training and I was careless and uhm— and foolish.” You explained, you were unable to meet his eyes anymore. Your eyes glued to the broken sword in your hands. “I am terribly… terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Not an inconvenience.” He said, and pulled the door open slightly. His workshop wasn’t as dark as you thought as you caught a glimpse of a fire churning in the hearth. You parted your lips, surprised by his words. “You’re alive. The sword fulfilled its purpose.” At that you finally raised your eyes just as he reached out, hand brushing yours as he grabbed the shattered remains. “Come back in three days. I’ll give you a new sword.”

“Really?” You asked softly. Haganezuka nods his head. “Well I appreciate-” The door clicks as he shuts it right in your face. Oh.

Three days later you visit again. This time with Mitsuri in tow. She would not believe your story of how your first interaction with Mr. Haganezuka went. She claimed he put her in a headlock the first time she broke her sword. She said he chased her till sunrise another time. Mr. Haganezuka seemed… apathetic to you.

You knocked on the door. No answer. You glanced at Mitsuri and she reached out and knocked. Nothing.

“Mr. Haganezuka?” You called through the door. You raised your hand again and this time the door cracked open. You jumped, startled as the man pulled open the door. You're not sure how you could tell because of the mask but something was wrong with Mr. Haganezuka. He leaned against the door heavily.

“Come in. I’ll fetch your sword.” He says as Mitsuri shoots you a confused look. You follow him as he walks laboriously through his workshop.

“Mr. Haganezuka?” You ask, he tilts his head slightly. “Are you alright?”

“Your sword took me night and day to forge.” He says as he walks you into the main room, Mitsuri close behind

“Day and night?” You echo. “Did you sleep? Eat?” You ask as Mitsuri warningly grabs your arm.

“Here it is.” Mr. Haganezuka presents the sword to you. Your eyes widen. It was… different from your last sword. The hilt was a beautiful shade of maroon with intricate carvings.

“Wow… this is… magnificent.” You were at a loss for words to describe it. Mitsuri sucked in a breath behind you, eyes bulging at the sight.

“It will suit you well.” He says, leaning on his work table.

“How much do I owe you, sir?”

“No.”

“N-no?” You echo. He just shakes his head.

“Make sure to treat it well.” Mitsuri says.

“I rather hope it treats her well.” He says, sliding into the seat.

“Mr. Haganezuka, as a thanks please allow me to treat you to something to eat.” You step closer to him. Mitsuri grabs your arm but you don’t let her deter you.

“Mr. Haganezuka is a busy man-“

“Alright.” He says to your surprise.

You whipped him up something and Mitsuri took her leave. You laid the food out for him and grabbed your sword.

“I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“You may stay. If you like.”

“I figured you wouldn’t want company… that you’d want privacy-“ he reached up and undid the tie to his mask, letting it drop in his hands. You blushed. It was an instant reaction, one you couldn’t hide. He was… handsome. Very handsome. With dark hair and dark eyes. But also he looked exhausted, dark circles beneath his eyes.

“I don’t mind your company, slayer.” He says and you swallow dryly.

“I’ll stay then.” You say and sit across from him, he pushes some of the food your way. “You eat. You need it more.” You say but he doesn’t pull the plate back. You sigh, and grab some food.

You spent a month in the village, recuperating from your prior mission, training with Mitsuri and occasionally seeking out Mr. Haganezuka. He was gentle, and kind. Mitsuri was unsettled when she saw how he treated you. Maybe unsettled isn’t the right word… more intrigued. She said she had never seen him act that way with anyone. Not even Rengoku. And everyone liked Rengoku. But you liked Mr. Haganezuka. He was an incredibly hard worker, almost working himself to the bone. He was diligent, he was… handsome. You’d never seen a man like him before.

On your last night you packed up your things. Mitsuri had headed out earlier that morning and you were to meet her later in the week. You tossed your bag over your shoulder and pulled open your door. You traced the same path back to Mr. Haganzuka’s and as you arrived Mr. Haganezuka was already pulling open the door.

“I cooked.”

“You did?” You ask, a smile forming on your lips. He hadn’t worn his mask since the first time you two met. He nodded his head and you followed him inside, setting your bags by the door. “I just wanted to stop by to say goodbye but I guess I can eat before going.” He stops, turning slightly, eyes intense.

“Hm? You’re leaving?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head. “Ms. Kanroji and I have a new mission a few towns over.”

“Ah.” He says, he turns away, still paused. You watch him from behind, blinking.

“Mr. Haganezuka?”

“Food’s getting cold, come on.” He says, walking towards the kitchen. You follow excitedly. The dinner was quiet, a little too quiet for your liking. You cleared your throat, glancing at the time.

“Well. Mr. Haganezuka-”

“Hotaru.” He says, not looking up from his plate. “Please call me Hotaru.”

“Hotaru… I should be taking my leave. Thank you kindly for dinner and… and your company this month. As well as my sword.” You name off, grateful, a soft smile on your face. Hotaru meets your eyes for a second before looking away quickly.

“You’re… very welcome.”

He walks you to the door as you bend to grab your bags.

“Must you leave so late?”

“I have a train to catch.” You say with a smile.

“Do you have… train fare?” He asks as you tilt your head.

“Hm?” You ask as Hotaru grabs some money, handing it to you. “Oh… Oh I can't accept this-”

“And it’s cold out. Don’t you have a scarf?” He asks, bustling out of your view again and reappearing, wrapping a scarf around your neck gently. You blush when his hands inadvertently brush your cheeks and again when he untucks your hair from beneath the scarf.

“Hotaru?”

“Ah! Let me pack you some food for the train and-- and some breakfast-” You catch his arm as he turns. He pauses, eyes darting to your hand.

“I’ll come and visit.” You say. He meets your eyes slowly.

“Please do.” He says softly. There’s a quiet, almost tension filled moment as his hand slides over yours, his thumb gently stroking the top of your hand before pulling it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Break your sword as many times as you like.”

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