#Letting this out there for the world to see

[a-s-ter]

Can you please write the salesman next for the kind of guy?🙏🏻🙏🏻

THE KIND OF GUY

(squid game edition boys) nsfw

The Salesman

— HES THE KIND OF GUY who never expected to fall in love—his life was far too consumed by duties and endless responsibilities. Love wasn’t even a consideration, not until you appeared like a sudden burst of color in his monochrome world. At first, it was your skill that caught his attention, the way you effortlessly bested him in ddakji, round after round, slap after slap. Frustrated but undeniably impressed, he handed you a card, feigning indifference. But as you walked away, something unfamiliar stirred within him—a quiet ache, a sense of loss he couldn’t quite place.

He tried to push it aside, burying himself in his work, recruiting others, and maintaining the facade of control. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. Then, one day, he saw you again, sitting at your usual spot. You hadn’t joined the game, and strangely, he felt a wave of relief he couldn’t explain. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of you, asking for just one more match. The words came out almost on their own, a fragile excuse to see you again, to hear your voice, or maybe just to keep you close for a little longer.

— He’s the kind of guy who’s spent years trapped in a monotonous cycle—lonely, unfulfilled, and carrying the weight of a life that feels directionless. Every day bleeds into the next, nothing to look forward to, nothing to hold onto. But then, somehow, he acquires you. You, with your rare kindness, your quiet care, and the sweetness that seems to radiate from your every action.

You don’t even realize what you’ve done to him, how you’ve unknowingly become the one bright spot in his otherwise dull world. He starts catching himself stealing glances at you, his gaze softening without his permission. It’s the way you move, the way you speak, the way you bring life into spaces that once felt empty.

And then there are those moments—when you laugh, or when you smile at something simple—that makes his chest tighten in ways he didn’t think were possible anymore. He smiles back without realizing it, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that feels foreign but good. You don’t just make his days better; you make him feel like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something worth living for. (He's in love)

—He’s the kind of guy who would boldly approach you, his intentions clear but unspoken. He’d ask to get to know you better, his flirting subtle at first—smiles that linger a little too long, looks that make your heart race without explanation. At first, you might be taken aback, unsure of his advances, but when he offers you something you can’t refuse, like money, your resistance crumbles. You agreed, but something in the way he looks at you makes you forget about the deal. Slowly, you start enjoying your time together more than you care to admit.

—He’s also the kind of guy who wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, not for a second. If anyone dared to claim you as theirs, especially some trash asking you out, he’d make sure they paid. He’d go to any lengths to protect what’s his, with no hesitation, no mercy. If it came to it, he wouldn’t think twice about making them disappear, just so they’d know—he was the first one, and that meant something.

But it’s not just about possessiveness. He watches over you, guards you in ways you’ll never fully see, keeping a close eye without you ever knowing. He’s always there, even when you don’t realize it—protecting you from this world that’s full of danger, keeping the darkness at bay as best as he can. It’s his silent promise to you, even if you never ask for it. He doesn’t want to see you hurt, not ever.

— He's the kind of guy who would soil his hands with blood, not hesitating for a second, if it meant protecting you from anything that threatens your peace.

— He’s the kind of guy who will make you fall for him as deeply as he’s fallen for you. He adores your smaller build against his, the way your petite hands fit perfectly when cuffed by his larger ones—it drives him wild. The contrast, the way you seem so delicate in his grasp, makes him want to claim you entirely, to make you his in every way.

But he’s not the kind of man to stop at mere affection. No, he’s the type who thrives on control. He’ll manipulate you carefully, subtly, until the thought of leaving him feels impossible—terrifying even. He wants you to need him, crave him, think of him endlessly. He’s meticulous in the way he weaves himself into your thoughts, ensuring you wake up and fall asleep with only him in mind.

And when he flirts with you, watching as your cheeks turn that irresistible shade of red, your voice faltering under his gaze—it’s everything to him. You turn into a hot, blushing mess, and he loves it. It fuels his obsession, makes him fall even harder for you, because to him, you’re the epitome of perfection. Cute, vulnerable, and entirely his.

—He’s the kind of guy who takes his time with you, the tension between you building like a carefully orchestrated symphony. When the moment feels just right—your faces close, the air thick with anticipation—he starts leaning in, his eyes locked on yours, ready to steal a kiss.

But then it hits you, the realization of what’s happening, and your face flushes a deep red. You turn away in a rush, looking anywhere but at him, your heart racing like crazy. He pauses, letting the moment linger, before chuckling softly. That low, amused laugh of his sends a shiver down your spine, and when you finally sneak a glance at him, he’s grinning.

“Cute,” he murmurs, his tone playful but laced with something deeper. Yeah, he loves teasing you—loves watching you squirm and stutter, loves the way your reactions only make you more endearing to him. And he’ll do it all over again, just to see that flustered look on your face that he can’t get enough of.

—He’s also the kind of guy who knows exactly how to manipulate you, slow and calculated, planting seeds of dependence and trust without you fully realizing it. He knows your vulnerabilities, your habits, and where to find you when you’re at your lowest.

So, when he spots you crying at your usual secluded spot, alone and trembling, he makes his move. Sitting beside you, his presence feels warm, comforting—like he’s the only safe harbor in a storm. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispers, “There, there, it’ll be alright. I’m here.”

As you cry into his chest, he murmurs gentle reassurances, “It’s alright, baby. Cry it all out.” His hand strokes your back, his touch deliberate and grounding, and he smiles. Not the kind of smile you can see—this one is hidden, smug, satisfied. His plan is working perfectly, and you’re falling deeper into his web. And oh, how he loves it—watching you lean into him, needing him, trusting him like he’s your savior. That’s exactly where he wants you.

— He’s the kind of guy who thrives on control, especially in moments of intimacy. The kind who, with practiced ease, unclips your bra with just one hand, never breaking the intensity of your kiss. And when he pulls back, his lips hovering just above yours, he’ll smirk and whisper in that low, teasing voice, “I’m not done with you yet.”

When you bury your face into his neck, trying to stifle your moans out of shyness, he doesn’t miss a beat. The scent of his cologne and aftershave lingers, intoxicating you further, as he lets out a deep chuckle, amused at your attempt to hide.

And when he’s got you pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy, he makes sure you’re not holding back. He loves to hear you scream, loves the way his name falls from your lips like a prayer. Even when a phone call interrupts, he doesn’t stop. Oh no, he sees it as a challenge, a chance to tease you further. He’ll move slower, deeper, just to hear your breath hitch as you struggle to keep your composure.

If you try to stay professional, biting your lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape, he’ll smirk, his pace relentless. “Go on,” he’ll purr, his voice dripping with mischief. “Try to keep quiet, baby. Let’s see how long you last.” And with that, he’ll have you unraveling, barely able to focus, completely at his mercy.

— He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t just tease you with words—he lets his actions speak louder. Even in public, fully clothed, he’ll find a way to make you lose your composure. He steps in close, his large hands resting on your waist, pulling you just enough that his hips press against yours.

That’s when you feel it—the unmistakable hardness straining against his pants, pressing firmly into you. His voice drops, low and dripping with desire, as he leans into your ear and whispers, “Feel that, baby? That’s what you do to me. You’ve got me all worked up, and I don't think I can wait any much longer."

The heat of his breath against your ear sends a shiver through you, and his bulge pressing into you makes it impossible to think straight. His grip tightens slightly, and the smirk playing on his lips tells you he’s enjoying every second of your reaction. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he loves driving you wild, even when you’re supposed to be keeping things composed.

— He's the kind of guy who leaves his mark on you, a silent declaration that you're his and his alone

— He's the kind of guy who would pin you against the wall, bite your lip, and pull your hair—taking control in a way that leaves you breathles.

—He’s the kind of guy who’ll leave you completely undone, your body trembling as you take every inch of his cock, tears streaming down your cheeks while you beg for mercy. But he doesn’t stop—he thrives on the way you break beneath him, his voice dripping with a wicked mix of praise and degradation.

“You're being such an obedient little cum slut,” his hand tilting your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. “Taking me so well like a fucking whore, like you were made for my cock. My perfect little bitch.” he said, his tone low and velvety, sending shivers down your spine as he continued to fuck his cock in and out of you. Your walls clenching hard around his massive cock as he fills you up with his fat load, still pounding into your hole not letting even a single drop of his release go to waste. (He has a breeding kink)

And if that's not enough. His thick, veiny cock would plunge relentlessly into your dripping folds, the sound of wet flesh slapping against wet flesh filling the air. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, his heavy balls smacking against your ass as he ravages your insides with unbridled lust while you're in a mating press. He is determined to make you the mother of his child, so he will pound your fertile womb over and over again until it's full of his cum. If his cum is seeping out of your pussy, he would pump it back with his fingers inside while he also plays with your swollen clit making you overstimulated as you beg him to stop. (he just fucking loves you crying and begging for him and only him. )

— Hes the kind of guy who craves more than just conception; he yearns to enslave your senses, to make your body crave the feeling of being utterly filled by him. He wants ypu to beg for his cock, to plead for the intense pleasure-pain of being stuffed to overflowing, regardless of your reproductive cycle.

The very thought of you, round and ripe with his seed, brings him unparalleled satisfaction. He delights in the idea of your addiction to his cum, to the exquisite bliss of having your cunt packed to capacity with his thick, hot essence. For him, there is no greater joy than knowing you're forever changed, forever his, your body and soul irreversibly marked by his possession.

[silkentine]

Wha--?! Silk finally finished her fem Zoro design after (checks notes) literally 6 months since she made the canvas in procreate?

I'll break down design thoughts and share some fun bonus pics under the cut:

I LOVE long hair on Zoro, I think that was the first change I wanted to implement. Zoro in canon actually has a really interesting relationship with gender dynamics which (if for some reason you're reading this and you haven't watched One Piece) can seem out of left field for the "dumb brute" character. His rivalry with and reverence for Kuina suggests he doesn't adhere to the idea that women are weaker than men. Later on, however, during his confrontation with Monet and Tashigi during Punk Hazard, his hesitation to slash her down reveals that he's subconsciously over-protective of women because he thinks they're inherently weaker. I actually don't have any problem with this character trait, I think it makes him feel more real as a person and he obviously gets shit-talked enough about it in the story itself. But how did I want to reflect these beliefs if Zoro had been born a woman? Easy: internalized misogyny and applying value to herself via her appearance.

My version of Zoro grew up wanting to fight with swords but her only chance of entering the dojo was to work under the proprietress, Lady Shimotsuki to maintain the property, cook meals for the male students, and eventually be a good wife to the current heir, Kuina. She learns that, to get what she wants, she must be the ideal woman, even if she stays up all night training swordsmanship with Kuina when she isn't supposed to. He treats her love for swordplay seriously and treats her like an equal, which sparks a bond between them and eventually leads to Zoro's goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman after his sudden, accidental death.

After years of intense training (now that Lady Shimotsuki admits that she'll need a new heir and Zoro is the closest thing she has) Zoro's finally old enough to leave and begin her journey. She starts letting go of the idea that she has to look pulled together to be taken seriously because she can just kill anyone who looks down on her. Her clothing falls into disrepair, she wears outfits that help her move in combat, and she starts tossing her hair up into messy, knotted buns under her bandana. Even so, she keeps her hair long like rolling hills of grass. (At least during pre-timeskip. She lops off her hair to prove to Mihawk that she's serious about being trained.)

I've put her in a thin sweater that she stitches (poorly) back together after her first interaction with Mihawk. (I kept one sleeve because I was inspired by the santoryuu Nami that Oda drew that one time.) I also wanted to girl-ify the ubiquitous haramaki so I picked leg warmers for her because I think they're sufficiently "dated" enough to be kinda analogous with his old man belly warmer. I also love gyaru fashion, sue me.

Here is a screenshot of her as a blonde:

And here is a sketch of her post-timeskip where she's fully embraced her butch nature:

Hubba hubba, am I right?

Check out my tag "girl piece original design" to see more of my genderbending art! Next post, I'll put all my East Blue Crew designs together! I can't believe it's taken this long but I AM SO HAPPPPPYYYYY

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake, Sleep-Deprived Overlord Extraordinaire (and the Boy Who Grounds Him)

The thing about Tim Drake is that he’s brilliant. The thing about Tim Drake without sleep is that he’s unhinged.

It always starts subtly. A missed night of sleep here, a triple shift there. His words get sharper, his focus becomes razor-edged, and the bats can practically see the neurons in his brain firing like a thousand fireworks.

Then, somewhere around hour 56 of no sleep, Tim crosses the threshold into full-blown megalomania.

He doesn’t just think he’s smart—he knows it. He’ll drop gems like, “Honestly, Gotham’s infrastructure is appalling. If I really wanted to, I could take over the city in 72 hours, tops,” or “Do you think I could reprogram every Bat-computer in the Cave before Bruce notices? Because I can.”

Which—yeah, okay, the family knows he’s capable of it, but it’s terrifying.

When he’s in this state, Tim walks around with the energy of someone who’s cracked the secrets of the universe and is two steps away from becoming a benevolent dictator. His confidence is unsettling. His hyper-awareness is borderline supernatural.

The bats try. Oh, do they try.

“Tim,” Dick says gently, holding out a cup of chamomile tea and a soft blanket. “Maybe you should lie down for a bit.”

Tim doesn’t even glance at him. “Lying down is for the weak, Dick. Also, you left your phone on the counter. Might wanna grab it before someone texts Kori again.”

Dick freezes. He did leave his phone on the counter, and he can only hope Tim didn't do anything with it (Though his comment definitely says otherwise).

“Tim,” Bruce says, the Big Bat Voice in full swing. “You need to rest.”

Tim smirks, flipping through his tablet. “Rest is for the dead, and I’m not in the mood for ghosts tonight. Also, you forgot to update the encryption on your personal server. Again.”

Even Damian tries, but he gets as far as hurling a batarang at Tim’s leg before Tim dodges it without looking. “Tsk tsk, Damian. You’re getting predictable.”

It’s chaos. It’s exhausting.

Enter Danny Fenton.

Danny’s used to Tim’s shenanigans by now. He’s been around for enough of Tim’s sleep-deprivation arcs to know the signs. The sharp eyes, the slightly-too-bright smile, the way he starts muttering plans for world domination like he’s drafting a grocery list.

Danny lets it slide for a while—Tim in hyper-mode is kind of cute, in a “my boyfriend might accidentally take over the world” way. But then he sees the bags under Tim’s eyes, the way his hands tremble just slightly from over-caffeination, and he knows it’s time to intervene.

Danny doesn’t use tea. He doesn’t try reason. He doesn’t even bother with the blanket method.

Instead, Danny steps into the Cave, tilts his head at Tim, and says, “Honey, can we cuddle?”

Tim freezes.

The bats, who have been subjected to hours of Tim’s unrelenting, untouchable brilliance, watch in shock as their insurmountable sibling folds like a deck of cards.

“I—uh—cuddle?” Tim stammers, blinking like a deer in headlights.

Danny smiles, soft and sweet and just shy of smug. “Yeah, I miss you. Come to bed with me?”

Tim’s resolve crumbles. He’s already pulling off his gauntlets. “Yeah, okay. Just for a bit.”

“A bit,” Danny agrees, but he’s already leading Tim upstairs.

The bats are left standing in the Cave, mouths agape.

Jason’s the first to break the silence. “Did we just get out-maneuvered by Tim’s boyfriend? The guy who hangs out with Harley Quinn for fun?”

Dick snorts. “I mean, are we really surprised? Danny’s been handling Tim better than any of us for years.”

Bruce exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing. “As long as Tim’s resting, I don’t care how it happened. Danny’s good for him.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees with a shrug. “Kid’s weird, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. And if he can get Replacement to sleep, I’ll send him a damn fruit basket.”

The bats exchange a rare moment of collective relief.

Upstairs, Danny tucks Tim into bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face as Tim curls into him. He doesn’t care about strategies or what the bats think. All that matters is Tim, finally at peace in his arms.

"Sleep well, genius," Danny murmurs, pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead. And for the first time in days, Tim does.

[sttoru]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ THE CUT THAT ALWAYS BLEEDS

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you regret everything when you wake up after an eventful night with your asshole of a roommate, toji fushiguro. even though you hate yourself for giving in to his charms, a part of you secretly craves his company.

tags. roommate!toji x female reader. suggestive, fluff, angst. age gap (reader twenties, toji early thirties). toji is kinda an asshole. kinda toxic relationship. mention of reader having daddy issues. self indulgent lol. reader gets called ‘doll, sweetheart \ naive’ -> part one: here

everything aches. your entire body is on fire the moment you wake up. you tiredly rub your eyes, regaining consciousness after being in deep sleep. glimpses of a room that isn’t yours, your nude body under the sheets and the uncomfortable stinging sensation in your hips help you connect the dots.

“oh, fuck,” you cuss quietly. memories of the intimate night with your roommate—the one you swore you hated and only tolerated—replay in your head.

you can’t believe it. you gave in so easily to toji’s charms, that womanising bastard. you hit yourself on the head a couple times with your hands. you just know that cocky man will never let this go. he can use this against you, blackmail you if needed.

while cussing yourself out some more, a faint breeze entering the room makes you shiver. you look to the side and finally notice the figure standing outside on the balcony.

toji exhales a stream of smoke from his lips, his eyes fixed on the horizon. the early morning sun casts a warm glow on the city below. he senses your awaking presence and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

the older man can feel your gaze on him, but he remains fixated on the scenery. taking a deep drag from the cigarette, he exhales the smoke into the crisp morning air once more. he knows you’re watching him, yet he makes no move to acknowledge you. instead, he lets the silence linger for a while, enjoying the view and the nicotine buzz before speaking up.

“morning, doll,” toji says, not bothering to turn around to face you. he continues to smoke without a care in the world, his bare muscular back facing you. the fact that he’s acting like nothing happened the day before is infuriating to you.

he does this often after all. sleeping around with women who can earn him some extra money, leaving when he sees no use in them anymore. now he’s doing the same with you—using a naive and vulnerable college girl like you for a room to stay in, toying with your feelings and managing to lure you to have sex with him. it’s all part of his plan, no?

you sigh, though realise that there’s no changing the past. what happened has happened.

you throw your legs over the edge of the bed. you stare down at your bare limbs for a second before grabbing the sheets on the bed. you wrap the cloth around your nude body, seeking a resemblance of warmth. something to keep you grounded so you won’t lose your mind.

your feet pad silently on the wooden flooring as you walk over to the balcony. the cold air hits your face which instantly makes you shiver. your nose scrunches up a bit and your brows furrow, more so after you’re hit with the strong scent of tobacco.

“a lil' grumpy, ain’t ya?” toji comments once he finally turns his head to the side. his eyes rake over your body, lingering on the flesh of your thighs peeking out beneath the make-shift dress. he lets out a low and appreciative whistle at the provocative sight.

it reminds him of what went down the night before. how you were trembling, begging and drooling underneath him as he ruined your insides. the memory is forever burned into his brain.

you can only click your tongue in response, coming to stand still next to him at the railing. you lean against it, arms draped over the edge. a silence hangs in the air between you two before you break it with a sigh. “you're an asshole,” you grumble while rubbing your eyes.

you remember how you’ve promised not to press on about the rent problem. how toji had tricked you into saying specific things in the heat of the moment. he’ll use it against you, you guess. if you bring it up now, he'll probably say that ‘that wasn't what you said yesterday when i was balls dee—’

you cover your face with your hand, your stomach doing that thing as you stop that thought. you hate yourself for feeling so giddy as you recall what happened between you two.

“heh, never claimed i was a good guy,” toji hums, voice low and hoarse. he puffs another cloud of smoke the other way. at least he’s respectful enough not to blow it in your face.

neither of you utter a word after that.

you look down at the city below. everyone is going on about their day, the people none the wiser of what is occuring at your little apartment. the conflicting feelings are fighting a losing battle in your head. as much as you dislike the various things toji does, you feel yourself strangely attached to him. even more so after you shared an intimate night together.

but then again, you know yourself, sometimes you make bad decisions in life. like the exes you chose to have in the past—all of whom were quite toxic in a way. some were way too old for a university student like you.

yet you stayed. you stayed because you needed the validation. the affection of an older man. perhaps that would fill up the gap left in your heart, formed by the absence of a father figure. it’s something you can't escape. which lands you in situations like these.

it would explain why you’re attracted to the man standing next to you. he’s an asshole of a roommate that frustrates you—not paying his half of the rent in time, coming home late which wakes you up from your much needed sleep, leaving his things scattered around the apartment, sometimes bringing women home to drain the money from them.

though, toji also got aspects about him that you appreciate in silence. like when he teases you when you're not feeling well, which helps you take your mind off whatever is bothering you and eventually leads to you venting to him. he actually listens and gives you reasonable advice.

well, when it’s people bothering you, he always urges you to tell them their names so he can 'handle it' for you. you decline the offer, but having someone who would protect you when it comes it, is quite reassuring.

or when you’re outside together and a man creeps you out, toji is the first one to make the guy flee by just his intimidating presence that looms over you like a watch dog.

one thing you also appreciate is when your roommate almost always comes home with something for you. he doesn’t give it to you personally, but he leaves it in places you can find. it ranges from food to souvenirs and pieces of decor you like.

you didn’t realise you had been faintly smiling this entire time. you snap out of your endless thoughts about the older man besides you. only then do you notice how close you are to toji. how close your bodies had suddenly got.

you must have subconsciously scooted closer to him while lost in your train of thoughts. your body seeks his warmth, his comforting presence, even if your consciousness tries to refuse it.

your arm is pressed against toji’s and you’re close to enough to smell him. his natural body scent mixed with his cologne and the lingering tobacco. you don’t flinch away when you’re aware of the proximity. instead, you allow yourself to enjoy the moment.

you lean your head against his bicep, closing your eyes. toji doesn’t move away either and you take that as a sign that it’s fine; that it’s okay to be vulnerable. he won’t take advantage of that, right?

in the meanwhile, the dark-haired man is feelings things he swore he would never feel for anyone ever again. that damn warmth in his chest as he looks down at you, an unfamiliar yet also nostalgic look in his eyes.

toji can guess why you’re still tolerating him, even when he does things others would have kicked him out for long time ago. he knows of your past—you’ve opened up about that to him when you were overly emotional. your exes, your absent dad, the attachment issues you’re struggling with. it’s also visible in your behavior.

the older man sighs. as much as he wants to be there for you, attachment is a foreign aspect for him. in his mind, showing any affection will cause damage on the long run for both him and you.

“i’m a bad guy, sweetheart,” toji starts before stubbing out the cigarette and throwing it on an ash tray near the small table on the side. despite his words, his voice is slightly softer than usual. “y’ really don't wanna get all chummy with a man like me.”

‘for your own sake,’ he wants to add, but refrains from it. he doesn’t want the conversation to turn too deep, too sentimental. he can’t really deal with that stuff.

you chuckle dryly at his last comment. on one hand, it’s the truth. you don’t even know what the man does for work, if he even works, why he comes home late at night, why he sometimes leaves for a few days only to return sweaty and tired. toji’s a total mystery.

but on the other hand, you’re attracted to the moments you spend together. the aspects of his life and personality that he allows you to see. the specks of the goodness inside of him that only you get to witness in the space of your shared apartment.

“don't care,” you eventually form a reply. your eyes dart up to look at toji, subtly grinning at him as you half attempt to make a joke, “am not exactly a ‘good girl’ either.”

toji’s head falls back as he barks out a harsh laugh. ‘you? not a good girl?’ he thinks. you’re the example of the nicest and also most naive woman he’s ever met.

the tension between you two fades away after that. before he can stop himself, the older man finds himself reaching out to wrap an arm around your shoulders. he brings you closer to him, his warm palm resting firmly on your upper back.

you freeze for a second, unsure where the sudden gesture came from, but you don’t complain. you laugh softly with him and rest your head against his bare chest. your heart is beating fast and you swear that his is doing the same, though not as noticeable.

“keheh. nah, y’re not ‘bad’,” toji shakes his head. his veiny hand comes up to ruffle your hair in a surprisingly affectionate yet awkward pat. he looks down at the top of your head and finds himself letting his guard down. his voice is a low rumble, “compared to me y’re a damn saint, believe me.”

you’re caught off guard by the headpat, again. your heart jumps to your throat at the touch and you bet he doesn’t even realise the effect it has on your body. or maybe he does.

a smile tugs at your lips. you’re fine with this—your earlier irritation completely forgotten. you don’t care about the money when he can repay you with irreplaceable moments like these. instants where you feel almost . . . loved.

toji can’t deny the surge of emotions bubbling up in his chest at the sight of your content self. he covers it up with a cough, but he’s still thinking about the possibility. the possibility of him falling in love again.

he cannot.

his rational mind tells him no. that with the dangerous life he’s leading behind your back, he’ll only harm you if you’re involved in it. he can’t risk endangering a young woman like you who’s got her whole life ahead of her.

but it feels good, to feel alive again after all this time of being alone.

“alright, let’s quit all this cheesy stuff,” toji rolls his eyes before flicking your forehead. you whine in response and rub the stinging skin, giving him a weak shove in response.

the older man grins as the grumpiness returns to your face. cute, he thinks to himself, wanting to elicit a familiar reaction from you. he pokes your sides a few times until you’re squirming and squealing.

“hey! quit that!” you huff, swatting his hands away the best you can as you run back inside the apartment—a desperate attempt to escape. you call out to him once you’re back in his bedroom, “you’re still an asshole!”

toji watches you go and exhales through his nose. your final comment causes the scarred side of his lip to curl up into a smirk. he knows you can’t be mad at him for long and he can’t wait to tease you again when he catches up to you.

he lazily walks back inside after a bit, closing and locking the balcony door. the same thought crosses his mind again when toji stares at you as you slip out of his room; maybe it’s worth giving love a chance again. just maybe.

toji hopes that things end up well. that life will not use you - the only person he’s slowly letting himself be vulnerable with - to teach him another lesson.

little did he know that mercy does not exist in the lives of people like him.

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

You always try so hard to hide when something's bothering you. You're so careful not to let your phone unlocked and out in the open, you try not to let your eyes unfocus as you think about whatever's bothering you; you work so hard to keep being productive despite your sorrows.

But they know you better than yourself, doll.

They see how your shoulders tense up whenever you leave Price's office and how you're always so wary of your surroundings, looking this and that way, waiting behind walls to avoid certain people. You can't hide your fears from them. Not from them. Not from the ones who were placed in this godforsaken world to protect you no matter what.

Figuring things out is easy. There's a reason they're a special task force. Swooping your phone from you is as easy as stealing candy from a little kid, and so is unlocking your phone (you need to be more careful about your passwords, love. Really? Your childhood's dog birthday? That's like basic information for them).

And when you come back to the room, flustered, fretting over your phone, it's there: on Price's desk, as if it was untouched. They hide the anger caused by their discoveries behind clenched jaws and hardened eyes and wait until you leave to begin discussing their plan of action (it's cute how you still look at each one of them to make sure they didn't see a thing).

Love, why didn't you tell them? Why did they have to search through your messages to find the reason behind your sadness? Don't you trust them? They're your guard dogs, doll, why don't you just order them to maul and gnaw and rip to shreds whenever you need?

It took them breaking into your phone to find out about the Sergeant who's been messaging you. They could read the suspicion behind your words as you accused him of pranking you after he asked you out.

Pranking you? Pranking?

They read the following messages, where he admitted to his lies – it was a bet, he said. Some friends had bet a good amount of money that he wouldn't be courageous enough to ask you out and then stand you up. He then had the gall to thank you for believing his words and going to the date. For dressing up "weirdly" and being delusional enough to think someone like him would be interested in you.

"just an advice: putting lipstick on a pig doesn't work lmao thanks for guaranteeing me the money tho" he had said.

Seeing red wasn't enough to describe how they felt.

Soap could barely stay still. He leaned his weight on one foot and then the other, itching to run as fast as he could until he found the bastards that dared to insult his bonnie. He needed to feel their bones giving out as he punched them into a bloody pulp. He needed to scream, to let you know that you were too good for all of those scumbags, that he and his mates were the only ones who could appreciate you, touch you with the reverence and devotion that you deserved.

Gaz felt like he failed you. The sourness of his anger mingled with the bitterness of his sorrow. He swore he could taste his emotions on his tongue. He always makes sure to tell how beautiful he thinks you are, how lovely your uniqueness is to him – his little porcelain doll he wished he could place on a shelf. To think some random man managed to hurt you and disrespect you under his watch... it was unbelievable. He would spend a lifetime spoiling you until you forgot about it. After he sunk his teeth into those men throats and ripped them apart, of course.

Ghost was the other side of Soap's coin. But while the Scotsman wanted to seek and destroy as quickly as they do in action, Ghost wanted cruelty. He wanted to take it slow, deliberate. One fingernail for every tear they made you shed. One bone snapped in half for every second you suffered due to their disrespect. If it depended on him, they would only live up until the clouds that covered your sun cleared up. There would be no surrendering, no mercy. You deserve thorough revenge, lovie. And only the muzzle that Price puts on his rabid snout can hold Ghost back.

Price wondered why you didn't tell them about this... incident. Why? Are you trying to defend those poor excuses for men despite how terribly they disrespected you? No, that can't be it. You're their angel, but he knows you aren't some punching bag. Are you afraid they'd agree with those bastards? At that, Price has to laugh. You're so smart, love, but so so blind. You still can't see how they could sell their soul to you, if you became a devil. You still can't see how they'd kneel down on nails and pray to you if you became a saint. After Price pulls a few strings and manages to get that scum dishonorably discharged, he and his muppets would have to work really hard on making sure you know you're the only thing that matters.

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic Father Front Man/001/Hwang In Ho x Reader

You escaped your father's clutches after so many years of being under his control.

And while undercover, you wanted to earn money quickly, so you put all the money you had with you that you saved the past years in a cryptocurrency with the advice of your friend, Thanos.

Both of you lost the money and found yourselves in the Squid game trying to earn back the lost money.

However, you never thought to see your wealthy father in the game.

No one knew that 001 is your father nor did you and the participants knew that he is the Front Man.

Yet, everything became clear to you, once you see everyone dying in front of your eyes.

Instead of putting your trust into your father, you put your trust in Seong Gi-hun.

Because he seems to be the only one telling the truth, and he acted like a father figure towards you.

Meanwhile through most of the game, you tried ignoring your actual father.

But, Hwang In Ho did his best to protect you, until you get betrayed by Thanos.

And find yourself getting shot, yet you survived and found yourself in a dark room, handcuffed to a bed.

And not before long, you see your father enter the room, holding a tray of food for you to eat.

But he wasn't dressed in the green tracksuit

"I don't understand." you stutter out, backing away from him in fear.

"If I wasn't your father, I would have had you killed and your organs sold for escaping."

Your breath hitches as you come to the realisation of your bitter situation.

Your voice trembled, “You’re the leader here… aren’t you?”

Hwang In-ho paused for a moment, his sharp eyes assessing you carefully.

Then, he placed the tray of food on the small table beside you, his movements deliberate, almost calculated.

"Yes," he finally admitted, his voice cold but carrying a hint of something softer underneath.

"I am the Front Man."

You felt your chest tighten, your breath hitching.

A few questions raced through your mind, but only one managed to escape your lips.

"Why?"

In-ho leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you escape, (Y/N)? After all I did to protect you from this cruel world, why would you willingly walk into something so dangerous?"

His calmness unnerved you in many ways.

You pulled at the restraints on your wrists, glaring up at him.

"Protect me? You controlled me! Every decision I made, every step I took, you were always there, pulling the strings, I needed to escape you!"

His expression hardened, but his jaw clenched slightly, betraying his emotions.

“And look where your ‘escape’ brought you,” he asserts, his tone sharpening.

"Into the heart of death itself, do you think I would let you die like the others?"

His expression turns cold once again, standing up from the bed.

"Are you going to kill Seong Gi-hun?"

You almost scream out the question, fearing for the 456's life, despite knowing him for a short period of time.

"You only have one father, remember that."

With that, your father walks out the door, and leaving you in your misery.

[beloveds-embrace]

I love your writing so so much, it brings me so much joy and comfort too!! Sometimes all I need is to think about those strong men protecting me when I need and your work is the the best example I could ask for <333

Do you have any new thoughts on the roommate au?? I am such a sucker for this trope and yours is just aaaaaaaaa fantastic

Thank you sm!! 🫶🏻💕💕 i will always have thoughts about them trust i love them 🙏🏻

Roommate au masterlist

Listen, if you get anxious easily about not turning things off when you leave the apartment and the boys aren’t home, you video it and send it to them, and they adore how you act and look in those clips.

It started as something small- just you filming the stove knobs and unplugged appliances, your voice soft as you narrated each check for the camera. “Oven off. Stove knobs turned off. Coffee maker unplugged. Straightener unplugged and cooled down.” You’d pan the camera slowly, sometimes with shaky hands, capturing every detail just to ease your own nerves and show them that you can, in fact, be trusted.

The first time you sent one, Kyle responded immediately with a thumbs-up emoji and a text that said, “Looks good, love. Don’t worry about a thing.” But what you didn’t realize was how intently he’d stared at the video before replying, noting the way your lip caught between your teeth as you whispered to yourself, your brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t tell you, but he saved it to his phone, alongside the others that followed.

Price had been the one to gently encourage you to keep sending the videos. He called it a “good habit,” his voice steady and reassuring. “It’s smart of you to double-check. Just send ’em over anytime, sweetheart. We’ll always let you know if it’s all clear.” But even he couldn’t help how warm he felt when he watched them- when he saw your sleepy eyes and bedhead on mornings you had to leave early, or the way you looked in a cozy sweater with your phone angled slightly upward as you held it with both hands.

Simon never said much about the videos, but you could always tell he watched them immediately. He’d text back short replies- “Checked.” or “You’re good.”- but what you didn’t know was how many times he replayed them. There was something about seeing you move around the kitchen, your voice quiet and trusting, that set him at ease. If he was away, somewhere cold and distant, those clips grounded him. They reminded him what he was protecting, what was waiting for him back home.

Johnny, on the other hand, teased you endlessly the first few times. “Afraid the toaster’s gonna grow legs, bonnie? Or maybe the microwave’s plannin’ world domination?” But the teasing softened quickly, especially when he caught one video where you lingered a little longer than usual, chewing on your lip before whispering, “I think I checked everything. But I’m still worried. Is it okay?” His teasing stopped completely after that. Instead, he started sending voice messages back.

“You’re fine, love. Swear it. Everything’s perfect. But if you need me to check it again later, just say the word.”

And they all noticed the way you fidgeted- how you tugged your sleeves over your hands or adjusted the strap of your bag. They noticed the way you bit back a nervous smile after saying goodbye to the camera, even if it was just to show them one last shot of the locked door.

What you didn’t realize was how much those videos had become part of their routine- how they looked forward to seeing your face and hearing your voice, even if it was just to confirm the stove was off.

Over time, they noticed the changes- the steadier voice, the quick smiles, the trust woven into your words. You started teasing them in the clips, calling Johnny out for double-checking the oven too often or joking that Simon should inspect the locks himself next time.

They replayed those moments more than they’d admit, holding onto your voice during long nights away. And when they finally came home, they saw the difference the way you leaned into them, letting them take care of everything.

[thecoochiefairy]

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, they all greet her back, continuing to clean the front porch. 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 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, “And I don’t need help showering. 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 days 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—killed 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 the family." 

He looks at her, his eyes meeting hers. "But I never regret meeting your grandmother, and I never regret having your father. And 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’s 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 gruffly. "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? The one who robbed, cheated, lied, killed? 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.”

Your 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 says, “This is my dying wish, Sayuki. You will do this.” 

The call of her full name, she knows 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 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 at her question, 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 says, 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.”

She 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. 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 says, “…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 girl 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 pulled her dark hair behind her ear as it was in straightened layers, 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 mimicked the tops material, hips desperately wanting to bust out the seams. 

She notices Toji along the wall, tilting her body to the side as she states to him, “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 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 her room with a twist to her hips. She finds a pair of her 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 at her as she touches his wrist, her head slightly tipped back 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 room 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 making her heart speed up a bit.

He tried not to be too obvious as he watched her from his 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 the sample of food offered to her 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 at 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, and 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?” 

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 says, “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 as she sighs, “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 says, “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 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 math, 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?” he muses, “Good.” 

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. They weren’t familiar to her, but she had a feeling this was men from another clan. 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, pulling a bigger pocket knife as 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 bleeding, pissed at how own vision was becoming blurry, hearing the shouts of the man, seeing his shadow glide by as he took off from 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 but for his own damn sake 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 softly 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, “They hurt you—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 any of this being her fault pissing him off, “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 makes it nearly impossible. 

“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. The old man 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. She leans down as she gives him a kiss on the cheek, bowing as she allows the housekeeper to get him ready for bed. She gave herself time to relax, showering off the blood on her hands and body, throwing an oversized tee on herself, slipping along her house 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 all over him, 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 her as she moves before him, taking in all of her features in that oversized shirt and her house slippers. 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.

He reaches out to place his hand on top of hers, his eyes flickering to the sight of his wound, his expression showing how bothered he was. 

“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,” she tries 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, feeling her 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 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 into her own as his pupils dilate. He wasn’t exactly a gentle man—but he wanted to try for her sake. 

He clutches her by her neck as he pulls their lips back together, head knocking back in a motion as he kisses her, 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. When Sayuki’s eyes flutter open, she flicks them up to the mirror above, engraving the ink along his back in her brain, locking her fingers into the back of 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 hers, 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, all while wanting to pull closer to him.

Toji’s tongue is rough and wet against her, 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. 

His body, firm and muscular keeps her pinned against the bed, her chest rising and falling heavily as he kisses down her stomach. Toji grumbles against her, biting the skin along her hip, “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, “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,” he pleads, “Say it.”

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 keep her clit hidden, and she full on gasps, the sound shuddering as her head knocks back against the pillow, breathlessly whining out, “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 deeper, Toji grunting 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, “Gonna cum if you keep doing that…”

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 grunts, 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 face 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 groans against her, 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.” 

[plip-plap-plop]

I feel like reblogging this sounds like I’m contradicting the thing I said in the previous ask about “not seeing a piece as inherently reflective of my identity” and making my task to make the piece reflect me, but let’s just say I’m being a little ball of my favorite things. And the thing I make out of that little ball is a little silly, a little undercooked, a little underwhelming. But like… so are tons of stories we all love.

I love Tatsuki Fujimoto because the absolute madman just can’t do anything but be himself. I don’t care if all of his stories are high quality, they’re honestly all batshit. I’ll criticize Fire Punch all day long, but it bears the soul of a living being. They’ve all got this ridiculous and gross and wholesome charm to em that I just can’t help but be infatuated with.

Be yourself, with as little apology as you can muster, and do it as loudly as suits you.

And when you kick ass, no matter how big or how deep the indent, that’s your bootprint. Take pleasure in the mark you’ve left on the world, and know that mark will be sacred to at least one person who finds it

''what if my writing isn't good eno--'' what if it's a reflection of your soul. what if it has a place in this world. what if you write it anyway

[covenofagatha]

hiiii <33

Could you write something about Agatha being a little insecure about being older than the reader?

Maybe they're at a party and someone the reader's age is going to talk to her and Agatha feels jealous and a little insecure, but pretend not to feel anything?

Then they go home and the reader shows Agatha that she loves her more than anything :)

If it's not too much to ask, the reader could have an obsession with Agatha's breasts and... really like eating her out? (like, a *really* big obsession) (sorry, Mrs Fletcher is on my mind a lot lately)

sorry for the details, lol, this came to me in the middle of the night

and by the way, I love your writing <33 you write very well

and I'm looking forward to the but you are my stepmother update :D

kisseess <3

I may have changed the setting a little bit (I've been watching Succession and was influenced lol) but hopefully you like! Also, Mrs. Fletcher literally changed my life so I completely understand

I combined this one with another request for being obsessed with Agatha’s breasts

Happy New Year to everyone!

Glitter on the floor

When Agatha gets jealous at the company New Year's Eve party, you remind her that she has nothing to worry about

Word count: 4300

Warnings: oral sex, oral fixation, breast fixation, marking

“Do you think anyone would notice if we just leave before the party even starts?” You ask, throwing a stress ball up in the air and catching it without even looking. 

You’re laying on your back on the couch in Agatha’s office and she snorts from her seat at her desk. 

Unlike you, when Agatha said she was going up to her office to quickly read over a contract before the company New Year’s Eve party, she meant it. You had just followed her up here to see if she was willing to get up to any funny business. 

“You don’t think they would notice that the CEO and General Counsel of the company aren’t at the company party?” Agatha asks amusedly, sarcasm dripping from her tone. 

Spellbound Network is a multi-billion dollar news conglomerate that Agatha Harkness is the Chief Executive Officer of. She’s absolutely ruthless and doesn’t hesitate before tearing anybody and everybody down. Nothing will stand in her way of world domination. 

As General Counsel, you’re a little less important, but you know that Agatha is right. The last thing you need is people speculating. 

The two of you have been involved in a more than professional relationship for seven months now. It all started when you offered to stay late to help her finish up with some end-of-quarterly reviews before the deadline and the two of you had ended up going out for drinks when you had finally finished. Agatha had let her hair down and told you just how stressed she was, and you had stupidly told her that you could help her relieve some of that stress. 

She had raised an eyebrow and you had taken it as a challenge. The next thing you knew, she was calling a car and the two of you were making out in the backseat on the way to her penthouse. 

It had grown into a relationship, a relationship that no one else in the office knew about. Things were getting pretty serious, and Agatha had even brought up you moving in with her. 

But you roll your eyes anyway. “It’ll be boring,” you drag out the last word slowly, sitting up to face her. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to your place, or even just stay up here?” You give her an impish grin and a wink. 

It’s a lost cause. Agatha has never let you touch her nor has she touched you in the office. 

She fixes you with a glare. “If you’re not going to behave, you can go downstairs and help set up for the party.” 

You hum in acquiescence and you’re about to resume your position on your back when Agatha leans forward and props herself up on her elbows, pushing her visible cleavage together. 

Your mouth runs dry. She’s wearing a long black dress with a low neckline that puts her breasts — that you may or may not be obsessed with — very much on display. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did it to tease you. 

“Agatha,” you whine, trying to sound pathetic so she’ll take pity on you. You can practically taste her skin with how badly you want her. 

She knows what you’re thinking, as always. “Stop,” she says without even looking up from her desk. “You aren’t going to goad me into touching you. Hasn’t worked any other time, isn’t going to work now.” 

You pout. “What are you talking about? I’ve never tried to.” It’s a bold-faced lie and you both know it. 

“Oh yeah?” She asks, at last looking up at you. “So when you got me that vibrator for the Secret Santa at the Christmas party, ‘not realizing that it was a public gift swap’; that wasn’t an attempt to work me up? Or when you just happen to come in here almost every day and knock over my pens so you have to bend down and shake your ass in my face?” 

You can’t help but chuckle at the reminders of your brazenness. To be fair, you had genuinely thought that the Secret Santa swap would be done in a group but then the gifts would be opened alone. And much to your surprise, you were wrong and when Rio Vidal, the head of Human Resources, had announced that it was time for everyone to open their gifts, you had quickly dragged Agatha upstairs, making some excuse about a phone call about a breaking news story. 

She had been furious at almost having to open your gift in front of the entire staff, and instead of having a very Merry Christmas Eve, courtesy of your generous gift and a well-placed bribe to the person who had actually drawn Agatha in the swap, she hadn’t touched you at all that night. 

But Christmas Day was much better, when she had put you on your knees for almost an hour and you made her cum four times with just your mouth. 

“You’re not letting those go anytime soon, are you?” You mutter. 

She throws a paper clip at you. “Go downstairs and stop bothering me,” she orders, fondness still in her voice. 

You huff a big sigh, one that tells her that just because you’re obeying doesn’t mean you’re happy about it, and walk over to place the paper clip and stress ball back on her desk. You straighten out your own dress, a long maroon one, and lean over to press a chaste kiss to her lips. 

To your surprise, she lets you do it and she even deepens it, flicking her tongue against the entrance to your mouth. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark and you’re about to ask her to reconsider, but she ushers you away with her hand and turns back to the contract. 

There’s not very many people in the lobby where the party is taking place, so you stand alone at a table and accept a glass of champagne from a waitress. It’s only ten pm and you know most of the staff won’t get here until closer to midnight, which would’ve been smart. 

If only Agatha hadn’t insisted that you and her come in for the entire day and get ahead of all the stuff that’s coming up in the new year. She didn’t even let you go back to your apartment once you both had finished, instead letting you shower in her private adjoining bathroom. 

And she wonders why you’re already so bored; you’ve been at the office for fourteen hours. 

Still at least two more to go. 

You take another glass of champagne and set it down next to your already half-empty glass. You’re going to need it once more people start showing up. 

It’s not that you don’t like them, it’s just that…if the building was on fire, you’d only really think or care about saving Agatha. 

“Hey there, General Counsel,” Rio says, slinking up to you. 

You smile. She’s an oddball, but her wry sense of humor sometimes is the only thing that gets you through business trips. Besides Agatha, of course. 

And it’s not exactly a secret that she has a bit of a crush on you. On paper, it would make more sense than you and Agatha. Rio is your age, and for all intents and purposes, doesn’t have any power over you, nor you her. 

But you’re in love with Agatha, and older women have always been more your type anyway. You’re perfectly happy with being friends with Rio, and it seems that Rio is content with your relationship now too. 

“Hey, Rio,” you greet, lifting your glass in a silent toast to her. She lifts up the other one and smoothly downs it in one gulp. 

And then the elevator dings and Agatha steps out and you forget all about Rio and everyone else. Your eyes follow her as she glides through the lobby, not even looking at you once, and she picks up a plate of caviar while the Chief Financial Officer, Jimmy, goes to talk to her. 

Rio taps her fingers to the rim of the empty glass. “So, I heard Harkness is thinking about acquiring Hex Industries for better tech.” 

“Water cooler gossip,” you say dismissively, not wanting to talk anymore business for the day. You’ve done enough with that with Agatha. And then you lower your voice conspiratorially. “But I did hear that Jimmy got divorced again?” 

It sends Rio into a fit of giggles and the two of you swap the details you’ve heard from various people and try to piece together what really happened. It does make the party go by faster and before you know it, there’s only about an hour before midnight. 

You cannot wait to go home with Agatha and forget all about work and this party and just focus on her. Ever since she changed into the dress she’s wearing tonight, you haven’t been able to focus with how delicious her breasts look in it. 

Some might call it an oral fixation, some might call it mommy issues, but there’s no denying how much you love to suck on her nipples. And to eat her out. 

Fuck. You can’t be thinking about that. Rio is saying something, something now about Tony, the Chief Operating Officer, and you’re shifting your weight thinking about the sounds Agatha makes when you get your mouth on her. 

You look around the room and you find her, standing alone, nursing her own glass of champagne. But what startles you is that she’s already watching you with a strange look on her face. You give her a small smile, your heart filling with adoration for the older woman, but she looks away. 

“Will you excuse me for a second?” You say to Rio, who nods. You walk over to Agatha and slide up next to her, your hand brushing against her lower back. “You okay?” You murmur into her ear. 

Agatha clears her throat and rolls her shoulders back and you have to make a pointed effort not to stare at her boobs that get pushed forward. “Just ready for this party to be over,” she says, voice clipped. 

“Oh yeah?” You whisper, cocking an eyebrow. “What do you have planned for when we get home?” 

She looks at you, finally looks at you, and you can see a guarded look in her eye. “We’ve had a long day, and this party won’t be done until after midnight. I’ll probably turn in.” 

“Oh, Mommy, your age is showing,” you tease mockingly in a hush, wearing a dramatic pout, another joke about how much older she is that she usually rolls her eyes at and then makes a comment about how much you like it.  

But she stiffens today. “Well, you’re more than welcome to go home with Rio if you want someone your own age.” The retort hits you like a punch in the gut and you’re left dumbfounded as she walks away, heels clacking on the floor. 

Is she…jealous? Surely Agatha can’t be, she knows how much you want her and love her. She knows how willing you are to show her. 

And maybe, just maybe, she’ll let you remind her right now. 

You check your watch. Forty-five minutes until midnight. You can feel her gaze from across the room, but when you try to make eye contact, she pretends like she isn’t looking at you, and you make the executive decision to try something that will probably backfire. 

Pulling out your phone, you pretend to take a call. You can feel her air shift; she knows that if someone’s calling you this late, it must be something urgent. You nod like you’re listening and then after a minute or two, you put your phone down. 

You meet her eyes and tilt your head toward the elevator, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. This could backfire. She could get so mad at you. 

But you have to try. 

Agatha excuses herself from the small group of people that have congregated around her table and she follows you into the elevator. 

“Who was that? What’s wrong?” She demands, and you almost feel bad for making her this panicked. 

You shake your head. “Just wait until we get to your office.” You think it should be a hint, but she doesn’t pick up on it. Instead, Agatha chews on her bottom lip and tosses her hair back over her shoulders. 

The doors ding open on the sixtieth floor and Agatha trails behind you, hot on your heels, as you take her to her office. You tell her to get on the couch while you draw the blinds to the glass windows facing the interior of the building, just in case anyone should happen to walk by. The television is on outside in the hallway and you can faintly hear the sounds of the New York Ball Drop show. A little over thirty minutes left. 

“What is going on?” Agatha asks again, clearly exasperated by you dragging this out. 

You turn around and almost moan at the sight of her sitting with her knees pulled up under her and her elbow propped up on the couch. This time, you really can’t help your gaze from darting down to her breasts and she snaps her fingers to get you to focus. “Rio’s just a friend,” you say bluntly, and Agatha scoffs. 

“What does this have to do with anything?” 

You slowly walk over and kneel down in front of her, pulling her legs out so that her feet are on the floor and you rest your chin on her knee and look up at her through your eyelashes. “There wasn’t a call,” you confess, already wincing on the inside at how she’s going to react. Her face remains stoic. “You were bothered by Rio and I talking.” It’s a statement, not a question. 

But Agatha jeers. “Is this your excellent counsel that I pay you so much for? That I’m bothered? Don’t think I don’t know about the little crush she has on you.” 

“So what if she has a crush? I don’t like her like that. You know I only have eyes for you,” you say, slowly inching the hem of her dress up her legs, waiting to be rejected. 

Her hand slides up your head and fastens into your hair, tilting you back so you can look straight at her. “Oh yeah?” She asks, daring, challenging you to go further. 

 You swallow hard. “Let me show you?” You offer timidly, praying it’s the right answer and you’re not reading this wrong. 

Agatha growls, a guttural noise deep in her throat, and she yanks you up and kisses you, nipping at your bottom lip. Her tongue forces its way into your mouth and you moan at the feeling, settling into her lap with your legs on either side of hers. She tugs at your hair and the sting makes you keen, only making you need her more. 

You can’t even wait, you’ve been on edge for too long, and you trail your lips down her neck, scrape your teeth against her collarbone, and then she helps you take the straps of her dress off. 

The second her breasts are free, you’re on them like you’re starving and they’re your salvation. You cup both of them with your hands, feeling the sturdy weight of them, and you knead softly, running your thumbs over both nipples. The dusky rose color stands out against her pale skin and you watch with fascination as her nipples harden under your gentle touch. Part of you still can’t believe she’s letting you touch her in the office. 

Not that you’re complaining. 

You swoop down and take one into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the little bud, and Agatha’s back arches off the couch as her fingers dig into your hair to keep you there. You’ve never felt more content in your life than like this, and you happily suck on her as the most delicious sounding noises fall out of her mouth. 

Her free hand finds your hip just as your fingers tug at her nipple that isn’t being occupied by your mouth and you can make out what she wants. Without moving away from her, you shift and place a leg in-between hers, able to feel the heat radiating from her pussy through her underwear and dress. 

“Fuck,” you mutter brokenly when she grinds up against your knee and you can feel just how wet she is. 

Agatha huffs out a chuckle. “You love sucking on Mommy’s tits so much, don’t you?” She asks and you switch sides and hum against her skin. “Mommy loves it, too.” 

You groan and take a break from directly stimulating her, instead, opting to lightly bite at the skin around her nipples, taking extra care to mark the curvature under them. She’s especially sensitive there, and her little gasps only spur you on. 

After you’ve left sufficient proof that you were there, you pull back and admire your work and you sharply inhale. Her breasts are absolutely painted with red marks that will surely fade into bruises by tomorrow and her chest heaves, a ragged look in her eyes. Agatha is still undulating against your leg and you can visibly tell how turned on she is. 

“Am I convincing you yet?” You ask, your voice coming out a little hoarse, and Agatha barks out a laugh. 

Her wicked grin has a thrill running inside you and she shifts underneath you until you figure out what she is trying to do. It’s a bit awkward, but she manages to turn her body so that her legs are on the couch horizontally but you’re still on top of her. 

She hums thoughtfully. “Think I might need a little more. If you’re willing, that is.” 

Only too willing. You can’t help yourself from leaning down and giving her a hard kiss, pulling away and sucking one nipple and then the other roughly until she moans, and then you move down her body and bunch up her dress at her hips. You put your hands on her shins and guide her legs up so they’re bent, her heels on the couch. 

And then you settle between her open legs and mouth at her sopping cunt through her underwear. A groan tears out of you before you can stop it at tasting the wet fabric, thick with her scent which you’ve become addicted to. You suck on her underwear, pulling the moisture out of it, and Agatha jerks underneath you. 

“We don’t have all day, pet,” she says tightly and you can hear the television outside saying there’s fifteen minutes left until New Year’s Day. 

You chuckle at her impatience and finally pull down her underwear. You wish your dress had pockets so you could store it for later, but you made do for just throwing it somewhere in her office. 

And then you drag your tongue up her slit and absolutely lose yourself in the taste. There’s something so indistinguishable and indescribable about it, and you lazily explore her pussy, getting as much of her wetness as you can into your mouth. You vaguely realize that she’s wrapped a leg over your shoulder and her heel is digging in, the sting only turning you on more. 

Small gasps are pulled out of Agatha’s mouth and her hips buck, trying to get more stimulation, but to no avail as you are completely focused on just licking her slowly. You moan into her and the vibrations make her whimper, but you almost don’t even hear it. This is your favorite place on earth, between her legs, and you don’t want to ever leave. She’s so warm and wet and responsive against your tongue and you fucking love it. Love getting her wetness all over your face, love feeling her clench around your tongue, love the taste and smell and how she reacts when you lap at her clit. 

You do that now, and her thighs tighten around your head and she sighs like she’s finally getting some of the relief that she needs. 

“I love your pussy,” you say, but the words are garbled. She lets out a muffled sound and you look up through hooded eyes to see her head strewn back in pleasure, dark hair fanned out beneath her, bottom lip between her teeth, and her fingers tweaking her raw nipples. The sight makes you moan against her again and her hips jump. 

She looks down to meet your gaze and you feel the fire inside you only being stoked more when you realize that almost all the blue in her eyes is gone, entirely swallowed up by dark desire. “Please,” she begs, sounding more needy than she ever has since you’ve started sleeping with her. “Mommy needs this so bad.” 

And the only thing you love more than tasting her with your mouth is making her cum with your mouth. 

So you oblige, thrusting your tongue inside her and almost losing all composure when her walls flutter around it. She lets out a loud whine when your nose brushes against her clit and you keep doing that, curling your tongue inside her and moving your head up and down so she can get some desperately needed stimulation to her clit. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good,” she practically sobs, and you can feel her throb. She never takes long, which is almost a shame because you’d stay between her legs forever if you could. Building her up, feeling her legs tremble around you, that’s half the fun right there. 

But she needs it, and you can hear that it’s getting closer to midnight. Only a few minutes left. 

You double the intensity, dragging your tongue over her clit again and again, feeling it pulse. You slip a hand between your own legs and groan at the wetness you find, fingers strumming at your own clit through your dress and soaked panties. Nothing gets you more turned on than Agatha’s pussy in your mouth, absolutely coating your face. 

She’s pinching her nipples now and you almost lose your rhythm from wishing you were the one doing that to her, but you don’t falter. Wetness is dripping out of her cunt onto the couch below and you almost smirk at the thought of seeing the stain tomorrow.  

Agatha better let you fuck her in her office more often. You clench at the thought of being under her desk, eating her out while she’s going through contracts or in a meeting or having lunch. Anytime you can. 

“Fuck, fuck, baby,” she chants and you can hear the minute countdown start. You lick and suck and nip and her hips are moving furiously, grinding on your face and you can’t breathe but you don’t even care because she tastes so fucking good. 

“Five…four…” You shove your tongue inside her and curl it up, stroking against the spongy spot that makes her gasp. “Three..two…” You scrape your teeth against her clit and she keens. “One…Happy New Year!” 

You suck her clit into your mouth hard and that does it. She goes flying over the edge, wetness gushing out onto your face, and you blissfully lick her through her orgasm, not even realizing that she’s too sensitive until she’s tugging at your hair, pulling you away from her. 

She brings you in for a kiss, a tradition when the clock strikes midnight on January First, but also something she always does when you eat her out, moaning at the taste of herself on your lips, and you don’t even care that you haven’t cum yet. You clasp her cheeks and your tongue sweeps into her mouth until you finally have to break apart to breathe. 

“What a way to start the new year,” you joke and she laughs and fluffs her hair. She looks like a thoroughly-fucked mess, but also the hottest you’ve ever seen. You soften and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You know I love you, right? I don’t care about how old you are, you know I fucking love that. You don’t have to worry about Rio, or anyone else, no matter if they’re my age or not. I want you and only you.” 

Agatha smiles and kisses you again, and then kisses your nose. “I want all your midnight kisses, baby. I love you too.” It’s the most romantic thing she’s ever said. 

And of course you immediately have to ruin it with a joke. “Office sex isn’t that bad, hm?” She pokes your side and you giggle. 

“Let’s get back downstairs before anyone notices that we’ve been gone for so long,” she says. 

You whine but reluctantly get off her when she pats your hips and she finds her underwear that was thrown to the ground. You both fix your make-up in the mirror and then you’re back in the elevator, descending the sixty floors. If anyone asks, you’ll say it was an emergency with an acquisition. But you doubt anyone will. The champagne is flowing and it’s a party. 

Before the doors open, Agatha takes your hand, squeezes it three times as if to say I love you and then there’s a ding and it’s back to reality. 

But she gives you a wink meant only for you when she toasts to the company and all the good things yet to come and a warm feeling fills you. 

What a way to start the new year, indeed. 

[grandline-fics]

Hot Off The Press

DESCRIPTION: Their reaction when you end up in the newspaper unexpectedly

WARNINGS:  none, implications of crushes

CHARACTERS: Law, Smoker

WORDS: 1,730

A/N: Just a silly idea that came to mind that I wanted to explore with a couple of the One Piece guys. I had fun doing this and may do more at some stage with other characters in this scenario. Hope you all enjoy what I came up with

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

LAW

Unlike some of the other pirates around, Law kept up with the news and goings on in the world regardless of if there was an inkling his or the crews bounties would go up or not. He needed to be aware of everything going on at all times in order to plan the best course of action and leave very little room for surprises should the next island he came to be already in the middle of some drama that could be either avoided or exploited. One morning he walked into the dining room of the Polar Tang to join the rest of the crew for breakfast. Grabbing his morning coffee he took his usual seat and flicked open the paper, beginning to leisurely read through it while enjoying idle conversation with the rest of the crew. 

“Hey Captain can I-” Penguin’s question was cut off immediately when Law was already pulling out the so-called ‘entertainment' section of the paper and passed it across the table. That was the one section he felt was an entire waste of paper and ink and only glanced at just incase something of note had slipped through. Most of the time though? Even the barest glance felt like a handful of seconds he’d never get back due to the pointless garbage written on the pages. “Thank Cap!” Law gave a non-committal grunt in acknowledgement to his subordinate’s thanks and trained his attention instead into a story about political unrest affecting two neighbouring islands. 

Unfortunately his focus was interrupted when Penguin suddenly let out a gasp just as he was taking a bite of his breakfast causing him to choke. Law set his paper down and rose sharply, making his way directly to his friend. It was a relief that in that time Law approached, Penguin had managed to dislodge the food and caught his breath. “Oi, why didn’t you chew? Nearly gave us a heart attack!” Law lectured, using his relief to fuel his panicked lecture. Penguin nervously shifted in his seat and with another clearing of his throat he shakily turned over the entertainment section to show Law and the others what had caused his mishap. Law’s eyes dropped to the print and they widened, sharply snatching it from the table just as you walked in with a long yawn breaking from your lips. “Mornin’ guys…”

When no-one answered you blinked and frowned at the group in confusion. Stepping closer you looked over Law’s shoulder to see what had gotten his and everyone else’s attention. Similar to Law, your eyes bugged and you pulled his arm towards you so you could get a better look, as iff the extra inch of space would make the page change from what you couldn’t believe you were seeing. First was the eye-popping headline “HOT PIRATE OF THE WEEK: HEART PIRATES’ HEARTBREAKER!” Filling the page were images of you standing on the dock of the Polar Tang on one of the occasions the sub had surfaced and you were performing maintenance on the vessel. 

Slowly you remembered that day. It had been so hot that you had to undo the top of your boiler suit and tie the sleeves around your waist to reveal the tank top you'd been wearing underneath. Your skin was lightly sheened with sweat and cheek smeared with a small streak of oil. Nervously you rubbed the back of your neck as you looked over the images, you were just doing your job but somehow the photographer had managed to take countless photos, all of them very flattering. It did unnerve you slightly to think that everyone would see you like this along with cheesy one-liners of ‘they can perform maintenance on me any day,’ ‘tune me up,’ ‘let’s let off some steam,’ and your favourite ‘Captain Law, can we join your crew?’

Nervously you chewed your lip and looked away to finally see your Captain’s reaction, fearing he would lecture you. Instead it surprised you to see the back of his neck and his cheeks were tinged a very noticeable pink as his eyes were glued to your pictures. Unable to help yourself you couldn’t help but smile slightly, pleased and a little giddy that he was looking appreciatively. Still you needed to break the silent tension. “I’m surprised they got my good side.”

“You stupid? Every side is your good side.” Law asked suddenly, his mouth acting while his brain was still distracted. Your eyes widened and lit in shock at Law’s words, your smile growing when realisation hit your usually serious Captain that he’d said it aloud. Flustered and unable to recover, Law swiftly turned and left the room to the safety of his office and you grinned wider to notice he’d kept a firm hold on the paper as he left.

SMOKER

Something strange was happening at G5 and it was pissing Smoker off to no end. Every few minutes calls and missives came through, the influx a lot more than normal. The usual missions and reports were overwhelmed with transfer requests coming from all sections of the world’s seas. Part of him thought it was a well co-ordinated prank being pulled on him from the different divisions by very bored and motivated Marines that he must have angered in some way. This had to have been a prank or revenge it had to. There was no way all these requests to come to G5 was genuine. 

It hadn’t even reached mid-morning yet and what little patience he had was gone when the next transfer request came through. Angrily Smoker slammed his hand down on his desk and rose from his desk, having had more than enough nonsense to last him a lifetime. If he stayed in his office for much longer, he’d be driven to making his own transfer request to get away from it all. Needing a distraction to clear his head, Smoker began to walk aimlessly in search of what seemed like the quietest section of the base. In his mind he thought if it was quiet then that meant there would be no-one around to pester him. 

“Smoker!” Smoker came to an abrupt halt and turned his head sharply to see you approach him, your pace quickened and expression just as frustrated and annoyed as he was. Your own sour mood was probably why you weren’t trying to stay out of his way. Now finding his distraction, Smoker faced you properly. You huffed out a sharp breath, relieved that the commander had finally snapped out of whatever he was thinking about and stopped long enough for you to catch up and stop in front of him. “Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

“Wasn’t paying attention to anything really.” Smoker explained, only now noticing his cigars had burned to nothing. Grabbing two more from his jacket he lit them and placed them into his mouth, taking a fresh inhale of the nicotine helping to make him more grounded. Releasing the breath of smoke, he used his ability to direct it away from your face as he focussed his attention on you. “So what did you need?”

“Just a general inquiry.” You began while trying to control your anger while it was still fresh. In a base full of short fuses you at least tried to stay levelheaded around your commander. You took a slow breath and looked to him, still unable to keep the scowl from your face. “How much trouble would I get in for beating up a newspaper employee?”

“Not like you to get so hotheaded about journalists…” You let out a bitter scoff at the word ‘journalist’ and your hand holding the rolled up paper tightened to the point the paper crinkled loud enough to make Smoker’s gaze drop from your face. “What’s been reported?”

“You haven’t seen it?” You asked, momentarily confused. You thought everyone else had. Or was he acting dumb on purpose so you would have to relive your embarrassment in realtime in front of him. Deep down you knew that wasn't Smoker’s nature, and his mirrored look of confusion confirmed that. With a sigh you lifted your hand, offering the rolled up paper to him. 

Smoker lightly tugged the paper out of your reluctant grip and let it unfurl. Knowing this had to be personal for you he flicked through the pages in search of the cause for your wish to cause harm to a civilian. Finally he found it, or rather it practically jumped out at him when he turned the page. Your image filled the page, the photo capturing you mid-battle. One foot had connected with the blurred shape of a pirate while your body was arched, your weapon in hand and aimed at another enemy. Smoker took in your form, eyebrows raised at how poised and strong you were. What got him the most was the fearsome, intense edge lighting your eyes, your focus entirely on stopping the pirates that had tried to ransack a village. All in all it was an extremely flattering story about your heroism and undeniable strength. Yes, there were some comments about your attractiveness but Smoker couldn’t exactly argue, not when the facts were so clearly staring him in the face-both on paper and in person. 

Finally Smoker’s eyes zeroed in on how the story piece stated you were a part of the G5 base and he let out a huff of frustration and amusement. So this was the reason for his morning-long headache. “You just have to live with it. There’ll be a different story by tomorrow.” Smoker shrugged calmly and handed the paper back to you. “Don’t let something like this bother you. Okay?”

“It’s embarrassing.” You grumbled. “Why did they have to fill a page with my picture? Why even use my picture at all?”

“Why not? It looks good.” Your head snapped up at Smoker’s murmured comment, eyes widened and heat prickling the back of your neck. He looked completely composed and stoic, acting as if he hadn’t said anything at all but you knew what you heard. Instead he lightly tapped your shoulder and started to head back towards his office, idly calling after you as he went. “If you’ll excuse me I have transfer requests to formally reject. Just keep up the good work.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa@kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost

[mononijikayu]

is it new years yet? — nanami kento.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now." "Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different." “My darling, behave.” “No <3” ".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

GENRE: alternate universe - no curses au!;

WARNING/S: afab! reader, secret coworker romance, co-workers to lovers, romance, fluff, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, fingering, creampie, p to v sex, stairwell sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (my darling, babe, etc), possessiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, actor! nanami kento, actor! reader;

WORD COUNT: 6k words.

NOTE: hello everyone, this is the first fic of 2025!!! this was specifically written because of a conversation between me and @midnight-138 on the afternoon of december 31st 2024. i started progress while on a bus on the way to my grandma's house and for a bit on the 1st. i still wanted to write more for it, but i had to stop because i caught a cold. i still have a cold. and i need a massage cause i feel my body hurt real bad, cause its working hard to save my life from this cold TT TT

but that being said, i shouldn't complain too much. good things have been happening to me despite my problems. i hope that good things continue to come!!! anyway, enough yapping, i hope you enjoy this little fic. happy 2025!!! may good things, good health and happiness come your way always this year!!!

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS ALWAYS LIKE THIS WHEN YOU AND KENTO GET TOGETHER. But it was to be expected, since you graced the screens since you were a child. Nanami Kento was like that too. Of course, it wasn’t something of a brag at all. It was just your normal.

You were lucky, you were favored like that. Kento was favored just like that. Both of you were so beloved. And especially so, in a way that they end up hoping that you both were together. 

Ever since you worked with him on Jujutsu Kaisen all those years ago, it was just too strong — the chemistry between the two of you. It pulls people in for more. They wanted a story, they wanted something that could ease their days from the mundane boredom that it was to the fun, exhilarating excitement that comes with the tea in both of your private lives.

You didn’t mind, your company didn’t mind either. Neither did Kento or his side of the aisle. It helped that you were both good friends. You had met even before landing your roles on Jujutsu Kaisen, after all. So, the ‘will they, won’t they’ between the two of you really did help your careers.

But of course, just like in Gege–sensei’s scripts, some parts are sentences with too many blank pages. And the wholeness of your relationship with Nanami Kento truly only belonged to you and him. And you were not willing to expose it to the world. Not just yet.

Yet — this does not stop them from trying to do something about that.

The studio buzzed with activity as you adjusted the earpiece in your ear, stealing a quick glance at the veteran actor, singer, producer, writer and entertainment personality that is Nanami Kento.

He stood near the stage, his posture relaxed yet impossibly refined. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie a subtle but elegant shade of deep blue,everything about him just exuded a quiet confidence that made it hard for anyone to look away. 

You, however, knew better than to let your gaze linger too long. You knew too well that those are reserved for just him and you to interpret and to see. No one else should. You were as possessive about your private moments as he was. But you would never say that outloud and neither will he.

“Can you believe these two again?” a stagehand whispered slowly, behind you. It was still, of course, loud enough for you to hear. “It’s like they were made for this. If they don’t end up together after tonight, I’ll lose faith in love. Really!”

You bit back a laugh, focusing on your notes. No one knew the truth, after all. That you and Kento were already together had been for a while now. Not even your publicists or managers — hell, not even your entertainment companies, knew that this was for genuine actuality, a real thing now. But you and him liked it that way.

You had let your fans go wild with their theories over the years of course. Every post, every comment, every little interaction, every collaboration, every press tour — almost everything seemed to spark a new wave of speculation and fan shipping. 

For years now, the internet was rife with hashtags like #OurSecretLovers and #MrAndMrsNanami with fans pouring over every detail like it's an investigatory report they were doing, a documentary study. You had to admit, it was amusing at times, watching people try to connect dots they couldn’t see. 

Nanami Kento had a reputation for being rather serious, because he gets roles in that league often. But he was a silly little man, well your silly little man. And he often had the knack for finding the most random, yet oddly endearing, posts about the two of you on Twitter. During your five-minute breaks between shoots, when you were in separate rooms or on different sets, his messages would pop up on your phone, accompanied by a link and a deadpan caption.

"Apparently, we're #RelationshipGoals now."

"Some of them really think I write poetry about you during my lunch breaks, too. Not inaccurate, of course. But the thoughts I have of you are different."

“My darling, behave.”

“No <3”

".......In any case, my darling…..this one says I’m lucky to have you. Can’t argue with that."

You’d giggle to yourself, your shoulders shaking as you tried not to draw attention. It didn’t matter how serious the production you were working on either. He had a way of making you laugh even from miles away. And that relaxes you a lot.

When it was your turn, you’d send him TikToks. Fancam edits of the two of you together had exploded in popularity as of late, especially since you both played a married couple who were spies deceiving each other recently. People thought he looked so good, especially when he had his shirt off. You loved teasing him about it. After all, he was really pretty hot in those scenes. And if you were being honest, they did in fact rile you up.

"Look at us, babe." you texted once, attaching a video with dramatic lighting, a love song playing over clips of you two stolen from interviews and behind-the-scenes footage. "We’re icons."

His reply came almost immediately: "Icons, sure. But I’m just a guy who got lucky enough to be yours, you know?"

Those words made your heart swell every time. He’d always been effortlessly humble, never letting fame or admiration inflate his ego, even as his star rose. After all, you were the senpai here—the darling of the Japanese screen since childhood. 

You’d grown up in the industry, your name synonymous with household stardom. He, on the other hand, had been a late bloomer, starting as a teenager and building his career with quiet determination.

He never let the difference in your status get in the way, though. If anything, it only made him more in awe of you. He’d often remind you how much he admired your grace, how you’d navigated the pressures of fame with a poise that still left him speechless.

“You’ve been dazzling audiences since you were a kid.” he’d say, his voice warm with pride. “I’m just lucky to share the screen with you now and your life.”

And you’d roll your eyes playfully, nudging him with a smile. “Don’t sell yourself short, Kento. You’re a fan favorite for a reason.”

“Maybe.” he replied with a soft smirk. “But you’re my favorite. And that’s what matters.”

No matter how busy your schedules got, those small exchanges, be it a funny link or a sentimental text, every bit of this kept you connected. It reminded you both that beneath the glitz and glamour, what truly mattered was the quiet, enduring love you shared.

You were out of your bubble soon enough when Kento suddenly caught your eye from across the room, offering a small, reassuring smile and then a small gentle nod. You felt your cheeks turn red but lowered your head immediately before anyone was to notice. He was too good at making you feel like this. And certainly so, he was hiding his smirk under his cue cards.

“Alright, places, everyone!” the director called.

You finally stood up from your chair, taking a deep breath and calmed down. You gave yourself one more look in the mirror, trying to make sure that your cheeks were natural now. When you felt like it was, you smiled at your manager who handed you the mic and swiftly thanked them. You went to your position. Kento soon approached, his footsteps purposeful but unhurried. 

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and calm.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.” you replied, flashing him a smile.

You were grateful for the reassurance. Even if you were already such a big name, you still did get nervous. And even more so, with such a big show like this — the New Year Countdown, of course you could feel yourself slipping.

The two of you took your positions on stage as the lights dimmed and the opening music swelled. His fingers brushed against yours briefly as he fixed himself up, your pinkies touching. Even briefly, you could feel the warmth. He did that on purpose. You could see it in his caramel eyes. 

You let a brief smile echo on your lips. You gathered yourself as the lift came up slowly. When you both were in the sight of the gathered audiences and the cameras started to broadcast it all live, you both slipped effortlessly into your roles. After all, you both were professionals.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to this year’s New Year’s Eve Countdown!” you began, your voice bright and enthusiastic.

“Thank you for joining us as we bid farewell to the old year and welcome the new.” Kento added, his tone smooth and polished.

Your banter flowed naturally, as always. That well beloved chemistry between you is still ever so undeniable. It was easy to fall into a rhythm with him; he was your partner in every sense of the word. And that made your job tonight a little bit easier.

But of course, the real challenge was hiding the little moments that threatened to give you away that bit you kept so dear to you. You just can't help it when it comes to him. He has such a powerful pull on you and he knows it.

There were those little lingering glances, watching and feeling the way his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a card, the subtle softness in his smile when he looked at you. After all, this is the longest you could be together in your very busy schedules this year.

Still, you kept yourself in that cage. And so did he, despite his lack of patience when it comes to you and everything about you. As the night progressed, the energy in the studio grew electric.

Various music performances lit up the stage, and interviews with special guests kept the crowd engaged. Throughout it all, you and Kento remained the perfect duo—professional, poised, and completely in sync.

After nearly a few hours of composure, it came almost all too suddenly. In just a few moments, the final countdown approached, and the excitement was palpable. The two of you stood at the center of the stage, along with the other participants for this year’s event. In front of you, the crowd behind you cheering wildly, waiting excitedly for the new year.

“Here we go!” you said, your voice barely audible over the noise.

Kento leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing great, darling..”

Your heart fluttered, but you kept your composure. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, babe.”

The countdown soon began.

You took a breath, looking at the screen.

You held your cue cards tightly to you.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

The lights soon dimmed, and the giant screen behind you displayed the numbers as they ticked down. The crowd’s voices grew louder with each second. The emotions coming through you were indescribable. Another year had gone by. But he was still by your side, like this. And all you could pray for as the time passed into a new age — that you would always be together.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Confetti soon rained down, and the studio erupted in cheers. You turned toward Kento, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you disappeared. The look in his caramel eyes was unmistakable—warm, tender, and filled with a quiet pride that made your chest tighten.

But just as quickly, the moment passed, and you both turned back to the crowd, waving and smiling as the cameras captured every angle. People of course started to pay less attention to you both and the stage and more onto the fireworks now blurring the sky with its bright hues. You and Kento made a steady exit off the stage. 

“Another successful project, isn’t it?” you said, breaking the silence as you leaned against the wall.

Kento smirked faintly, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to loosen his tie. “They’ll be talking about this for weeks, you know?”

“And shipping us even harder, hm.” you added with a laugh.

“They’ll never know, though.” he said, his voice soft but steady.

You stepped closer, your hand finding his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the simple gesture grounding you in a way nothing else could. “They don’t need to, babe.” you whispered, meeting his gaze. “This is ours.”

Kento’s lips curved into the faintest smile as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Happy New Year, my darling.”

“Happy New Year.” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You had thought it would end there, sweet and innocent. You had thought you both were safe for one more year. But when you two are together after a long time…..it was a whole new animal. And nothing can stop such a wave in high tide from occupying something whole. 

The next tithing you know is that the internet exploded the moment the photos dropped. Headlines blared across every platform, hashtags like #FINALLYOMG and #NewYearNewScandal trending within minutes after they were taken.

The pictures were pretty damning. They were blurry but unmistakably you, disheveled and wrapped in Nanami’s coat, your hair a mess. And him? A rare sight indeed.

It was none other than Nanami Kento, usually the epitome of composure, looking uncharacteristically undone. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the telltale bruises blooming on his neck left little to the imagination.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the coffee table as you buried your face in your hands. Beside you, Kento sat unbothered, calmly sipping his tea like the world wasn’t on fire—or at least your career’s PR team.

“I told you we should’ve been more careful, babe.” you muttered, your voice muffled by your palms.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lips quivering into a teasing smile. “You were the one who couldn’t wait with it, y'know?” he replied smoothly, setting his cup down with an elegant clink.

His tone was infuriatingly calm, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “Who was it again, begging me to fill you up? By round two, you were going—‘Kento, I need you. Right here. Right now.’ and I was happy to heed the request like always.”

Your scarlet blush was immediate, your head snapping up to glare at him. “Kento!” you hissed, glancing around the living room as if someone could overhear, even though it was just the two of you. “Not helping!”

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs with the air of a man thoroughly enjoying himself. “I’m just stating the facts about, I'm the same.” he said with a shrug, his smirk widening as you shot him another flustered look. "That's not a bad thing."

Your phone buzzed again on the table, your manager’s name flashing on the screen. You sighed, picking it up only to immediately huff and toss it back down. “This is really…” you trailed off, searching for the right word but settling on a frustrated groan instead.

“Chaotic? Consequential? Hilarious?” Kento offered, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You shot him a glare that was far more affectionate than threatening. “Horrible. That’s the word. This is horrible.”

He chuckled, reaching over to rest a comforting hand on your knee. “Darling, it’s not the end of the world. Scandal or not, we’ll deal with it.”

“Easy for you to say.” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “Your team probably thinks this is great publicity for your brooding, mysterious heartthrob image. Meanwhile, I’m the one getting texts about how unprofessional it looks for ‘Japan’s sweetheart’ to be caught sneaking around with hickeys and wearing her boyfriend’s coat.”

“Unprofessional?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “It’s not like we committed a crime. We’re adults in a committed relationship. And in any case my darling....….” he added, his voice dropping to a playful murmur. “You look adorable in my coat.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me. Very much." he quipped, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from your lips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, instead letting your head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh. “Next time, though….really.....” you muttered. “We’re finding a stairwell without photographer cameras.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Noted.”

As you leaned against your lover, the memory hit you both like a freight train, vivid and unrelenting. It had started innocently enough—or as innocently as it could between the two of you. The countdown show had gone off without a hitch, and the studio was still buzzing with post-show chaos. 

You both talked for a bit, had a cute moment and then went back to your professional mode when everyone started to surround you both again. It was like a switch, and it was easy. No one suspected a thing.

You went ahead into the dressing room, you talked with everyone. You’d been polite and professional, thanking the crew and chatting with some of the guests. But the moment Nanami Kento had caught your eye as you left the green room, something in his caramel gaze had made your pulse quicken.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Between his packed schedule and yours, the countdown project had been the only excuse to be in the same room together. The public facade you maintained only added to the frustration. Every fleeting touch, every shared look—it all built up, an unbearable tension neither of you could ignore.

So, when he’d quietly grabbed your hand and guided you down a quiet, rarely-used stairwell in the building when no one was looking, you hadn’t protested. You were excited, happy even. This was the chance to feel him again this close to you. 

And you were glad for that opportunity. You could feel his touch be so genuine and warm despite the heavy chill in the air, and the firm grip of his fingers around yours sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Darling, I missed you, really.” he murmured as soon as you were alone.

His voice low and rough, filled with a longing that made your knees weak. His hands cupped your face with a reverence that always left you breathless, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek as he leaned in. The kiss was searing, his lips melding with yours as though it had been an eternity since your last stolen moment together.

The cold winter air bit at your exposed skin, but his touch set you alight. His coat had slipped from his shoulders in a quiet, unspoken gesture, draped over yours as his lips moved to your neck. The kisses were hot, open-mouthed, and deliberate, his tongue tracing the sensitive skin before his teeth grazed your pulse.

“Kento, babe….” you gasped, your voice trembling from a mix of the frigid air and the heat of his attention. Your fingers clutched the lapels of his suit, trying to ground yourself against the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, just enjoy it......” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. 

His hands slid down your sides, firm but gentle as they gripped your thighs. Without hesitation, he lifted you effortlessly, pressing your back against the wall. The rough texture scraped against your coat, but you barely noticed, too focused on the way his body pressed into yours.

His strength always caught you off guard, even after all this time together. Your eager legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, your heels digging into his lower back. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open as he stepped between them, his body fitting against yours like a missing piece.

“Babe!” you breathed again, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He kissed you like a man starved, his lips leaving your neck to reclaim your mouth. The intensity of it stole the air from your lungs, leaving you dizzy and clinging to him. He was hungry, perhaps even more than you were. But you had expected that. He has a habit of yearning to touch you a lot.

“I hate not being able to touch you, with all the schedules we fucking had.” he muttered against your skin, the words tinged with frustration and longing. “Hated every fucking minute of it……”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers as you tugged him closer. “Then don’t stop, babe.” you whispered, the plea soft but desperate. “Cause….I need you badly too. I need you so bad in me—”

He growled softly, the sound rumbling against your throat as his touch shifted. One hand remained steady on your thigh, holding you firmly in place, while the other slid beneath the hem of your dress. His fingers were deliberate, pushing aside the delicate lace of your panties with practiced ease.

When his fingers slipped through your slick folds, a gasp escaped your lips, your head falling back against the wall. He groaned softly, the sound low and satisfied as he gathered your arousal, his touch teasing and unhurried.

“You’re already so ready for me, aren’t you, my darling?” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers moved with precision, finding the spot that made you arch into him.

The cold air around you was a stark contrast to the heat building between you, the quiet of the stairwell broken only by your uneven breaths and his whispered praises. It was reckless, indulgent, and utterly intoxicating—just like him.

“Kento, babe….oh!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as his fingers continued their unrelenting rhythm. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as waves of pleasure began to build within you.

“Shh, darling.” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear before trailing back to your neck. His voice was low and soothing, laced with a quiet intensity that only made your pulse race faster. “You’ll have to keep quiet for me. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape as he added a second finger. The stretch was delicious, his movements slow and deliberate, coaxing you higher with every stroke. His thumb brushed over your sensitive bud, and your thighs instinctively clenched around his waist.

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your skin. “That’s my good little lover, hm? My only beloved darling.” he murmured, his praise sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. “So perfect for me.”

Your fingers slid up into his messy blond hair, tugging gently as your body arched against him. The rough texture of the wall behind you was a sharp contrast to the soft warmth of his touch, grounding you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Kento, please, b–babe….oh!” you breathed, the words barely audible as your head tilted back, exposing more of your neck to his eager lips. “M–more…..more!”

He hummed in response, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient, aren’t you? Greedy too.” he teased, though his fingers quickened their pace, curling just right to hit the spot that made your breath hitch. “I missed seeing you like this, so needy for me.”

The heat pooling in your core intensified, your body trembling as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. “I’m—” you began, but the words dissolved into a strangled gasp as he pressed his thumb harder against your sensitive nub.

“That’s it, pretty for me, so fucking pretty." He says, coaxing you like a pied piper. His voice was low and intoxicating. Everything about it just burns you as much as his touch did. "I’ve got you. Always.”

With one final stroke, the beautiful echo, that blossoming coil inside you just snapped, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body tensed, your thighs tightening around his waist as you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the cry that escaped your lips.

He held you through it, his fingers slowing their movements as your body shook with aftershocks. His other hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his lips pressing soothing kisses against your temple.

When you finally relaxed, your breaths coming in shallow gasps, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were soft, his gaze filled with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction that made your chest tighten.

“Better?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with affection.

You nodded, still too dazed to form words. He chuckled, adjusting his hold on you as he gently set you back on your feet. Your legs wobbled like jello against him, and he immediately steadied you, his hands firm but gentle on your waist.

“Careful, darling.” he murmured, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, babe.” you managed, your voice breathless but steady. “More than fine.”

His lips quivered into a soft smile, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Good.”

As the reality of your surroundings sank back in, you couldn’t help but glance around, the abandoned stairwell suddenly feeling far less private. “We should… probably get back, babe.” you said, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He followed your gaze, his expression calm and unbothered. “Let them wonder where we went.” he said simply, shrugging off the concern as he adjusted his coat around your shoulders. "It's none of their business."

You opened your mouth to protest, but the mischievous glint in his eyes stopped you cold. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “After all… I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched, and before you could respond, he was guiding you gently back against the wall. His lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, igniting the fire he’d only begun to stoke. His hands trailed down your sides, their warmth chasing away the chill of the stairwell as he pressed his body firmly against yours.

“Kento, babe.” you murmured, a weak attempt to regain your composure, but he silenced you with a kiss that left no room for argument. 

“I missed you, a damn whole lot.” he said, his voice low and filled with longing as his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly once more. "Like I always do."

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, your heart pounding as the desire you’d both tried to suppress flared back to life. He pressed against you, the hardness of his arousal undeniable even through the fabric of his pants. The teasing grind of his hips against yours drew a gasp from your lips, and he smirked, his composure slipping just enough to show his need.

"Really....." Kento effortlessly whispered to you, his voice vibrating onto you like a wave crashing onto you at sea. "We shouldn't schedule much this New Year, hm? So we can be together."

"Hm.....Kento." You echo back to him, intoxicated by his touch. "'ake time....for me, okay? I'll.....I'll do the same."

“That's the plan already, you know?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he shifted, his hands tugging at the barriers between you. “Let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Soon after that, you could feel the wet, thick head of his member pressed against your entrance, the heat and pressure stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped as he began to push in slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent.

It was too good, too damn easy to fall into a high to. You could feel the stretch inside of you, it made you so full. Everything about it was intoxicating, your body yielding to him as he filled you inch by inch, your walls clinging to every part of him like he was made to fit. 

It was like he was trying to make a home inside of it. Inside of you. And it just made you feel so good. A deep, guttural groan rumbled in his chest, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as he buried himself deeper.

“Darling.” he muttered, his voice strained and low. “You feel so perfect.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support as your body adjusted to the delicious fullness. The sensation was overwhelming, the slight ache quickly giving way to a heat that spread through your entire body.

“Kento.” you breathed, the sound a mix of plea and surrender.

His large hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he pulled back slightly before thrusting forward again, the motion slow but unyielding. Each movement sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, and the friction only made you crave more.

“God, this is so…..you feel so good.” he groaned, his voice rough and filled with need. “You’re so tight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go slow like this with you.”

“Don’t, babe.” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t hold back.”

His carmel eyes darkened almost instantly at your words, a flicker of something primal overtaking his usual control. With a growl, he began to move in earnest, each thrust deeper and harder than the last. The sound of your bodies meeting echoed in the stairwell, a symphony of shared desire that neither of you could hold back.

The rough texture of the wall behind you only heightened the sensation, grounding you as he took you apart piece by piece. You could feel your back burn against the concrete wall as you throw your head back against it. His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming your mouth as thoroughly as his body claimed yours.

“Darling, my pretty baby darling.” he murmured against your lips, his voice ragged and desperate. “You’re mine. Always mine.”

“Yes, babe. Yours….O–oh…only! Only yours!” you managed to gasp, your head tilting back as he kissed along your throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. 

The coil in your core once more tightens with every spark you feel as he pushes deeper over and over in a fast pace. Everything about the pleasure you feel keeps building to an almost unbearable peak. It just felt too good. He felt too good.

His pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as his control began to slip. One hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your sensitive nub and rubbing it in quick, precise circles.

You cried out, your body arching into him as the tension finally snapped. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your walls clenching tightly around him as your release tore through you.

“Fuck, fuck. I’m close!” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With one final, deep thrust, he shuddered against you, his body going taut as he spilled himself inside you.

For a moment, the only sound was your shared, labored breathing, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around you like a cocoon. His forehead rested against yours, his hands gentle as they smoothed over your thighs and waist, grounding you both.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice filled with concern despite the lingering haze of pleasure in his eyes.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “More than okay.”

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before gently setting you back on your feet. His hands remained steady on your waist, holding you as your legs wobbled beneath you. You leaned into him, your breath uneven, your body still humming from the intensity of what had just transpired.

But that wasn’t the end of it, of course. 

The hunger in his eyes hadn’t faded, and neither had yours. The raw desire that simmered between you was far from sated, and you both knew it. Kento’s hands lingered, his thumbs brushing soft, teasing circles against your hips as he studied your flushed face. 

“I just think that I…..” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “I still want more.”

You barely had time to process his words before your lover’s lips were on yours again, roughly consuming you in a kiss that was as demanding as it was all encompassing. Your hands quickly found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. Your body instinctively responds to the magnetic pull of his, over and over.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered between kisses, though your voice lacked conviction. “It’s going to make people suspicious.”

“Probably not.” he agreed, his smirk returning as his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, trailing up your thighs. “But repercussions are damned when we’re hungry. I can’t stop. I know you won’t too..”

The wall pressed against your back once more as he claimed you all over again, the cool stairwell air doing nothing to cool the fire that raged between you. It was reckless, but neither of you cared. Not here, not now. Hunger demanded to be fed, and with Nanami Kento, you were always insatiable.

After a while, you were both removed from the plane of normalcy and you were both panting with joyous weariness. He presses a kiss against your jaw as you keep a steady bite on his neck. He grumbles against you as he gathers himself from seeing stars. You follow him soon after. You released his neck and started kissing his lips once more. 

When you both found yourself satisfied, you both started to make yourselves as presentable as possible. Well, at least what remains presentable and salvageable for both of you. Kento ripped too much of your outfit as much as you did. Still, you both did not care. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” he murmured, his tone tender as he placed his coat on your shoulders and adjusted it tenderly on you, to keep you warm. “I’ll call my car and then we’ll just hop in there. We’ll go to my hotel, okay?”

You nodded again, your cheeks flushing as the reality of your surroundings began to sink in. But as he laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the main building, you couldn’t help but feel a warm glow of contentment.

Of course, things too did not go the way you both wanted once again. You didn’t know that there were many SNS photographers  and gossip journalists waiting to catch some other celebrity in that area where Kento’s car was going to be. And that’s just how you were caught, not thinking about the logistics of it all. 

But how could you? It was New Years. 

You just got mindlessly blown with really, really, really good sex.

And you were together once again with your lover.

How could you think about anything else after all that? 

Now, back in the present, the two of you sat in the quiet of your shared apartment. Nanami Kento’s calm demeanor was a stark contrast to your frazzled nerves. You sighed, looking up to your lover who presses a kiss on your forehead.

“You know this is going to be everywhere, babe.” you said, gesturing toward your phone.

He set his tea down and leaned back, regarding you with a look of quiet amusement. “Let them talk, darling. It was bound to happen eventually.”

You groaned. “Eventually I didn't need to include hickeys and a ruined coat. And oh god….. was I leaking your cum?” 

You took your phone once again to inspect, but your lover took your phone with his free hand and put it away. You looked at him, almost sulky as one would look as a child. He laughs. He presses another kiss on your hair. Kento couldn’t help but smirk. Both acts had made your heart skip a beat. 

“You look good in my coat though. I could hardly care if my cum was dripping out, darling.” he said simply. “I’m pretty sure I look just as ridiculous. You mauled my neck so happily after that first round.”

“You  do look like you’ve been ravaged.” you shot back, though your cheeks burned at the memory. “I mean, it made sense at the time….I was hungry.”

“Hm, I don’t blame you.”

You sighed. “We’ll contact our PR and everyone later, okay?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm.”  he said softly, his voice filled with the steady reassurance you’d always loved about him. “We’ll be fine, okay? I don’t care as long as I am with you.”

You sighed, leaning into his warm touch. “I guess the secret’s out, huh?”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I don’t mind. As long as we're happy together, I say let them say whatever they want.”

You blinked at him. “You think so?”

“Hm.” He smiles at you. “Because no one will truly know who you are to me. That’s only mine. They’ll have a headline, but I’ll have the whole spreadsheet.”

You feel like your heart is melting with his tenderness. “I love you. So so much.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your lips, smiling wider at you.

And just like that, the storm outside felt a little less overwhelming.

[xf-cases-solved]

thinking about how one of the most romantic and emotionally devastating things mulder has ever done was see an apollo 11 keychain, buy it, and then take scully out for what will presumably be her last ever birthday and give it to her, saying so casually that it was something that reminded him of her, as if the reason it reminded him of her wasn't the least casual reason in the world. as if he hadn't gifted her that keychain as a way of telling her that, "hey, jsyk, i have been searching for the Truth my entire life, and i used to think i worked better alone, but it wasn't until you came into my life that i realized that if i am ever going to expose all the lies and make the world better, i am going to need help. specifically your help. you aren't some person who i got saddled with who turned out to be a good sounding board; you are the reason i can still do this in the first place. you are the person i turn to when i'm lost. you are the person i trust. you have been my companion on this journey, and if this really is the end for us, i can't let you go without making sure you understand that i see every sacrifice you have ever made for me, and that those sacrifices were not in vain. that i needed you with me. that i need you still. that i will never stop needing you, whether you're here or not"

like, it's his entire ftf monologue contained in a keychain, and while i kind of desperately wish we could have heard him explain its significance with his own words, i do think it's kind of beautiful that she was able to put it together anyway. and the way he watches her as she explains it is so fucking reverent. so fucking in love. like you can just hear him thinking "what am i going to do without you?"

idk man, do you ever just cry?

[darkbluekies]

P.O.V 2025 ver

Yandere!mafia boss x reader x mafia!boss enemy

Summary: To get Silas to keep his end of an agreement, a hostage is taken, someone known to be very dear to him.

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, nsfw mentions, torture, blowing people up, murder, guns, gore, blackmailing, darling breaking, self guilt, angst, humiliation, and probably more along those lines!

Word count: 5.6k

“Let me go!” you scream as you struggle, for nothing, against the rugged men pulling you left and right. 

“Be silent”, one of them replies in a sharp, rude tone, “or I'll cut your tongue.”

You're pushed down on your knees on a polished, wood floor that seem to be out of place. You run your eyes around the room, scanning anything and everything. The room is dim, with a big desk, armchairs and a decorative carpet. Your heart hammers in your chest, to the point of nausea. Just an hour ago you were in the backseat of Silas’s ar, waiting for him to be done with a mission. You had been left alone with two trusted drivers. They had been shot, quick and easy, as if someone had rehearsed it. And you had been snatched by the two men holding you.

A man sits in the big chair behind the desk. He smirks at you. Hes about Silas’s age with dark hair, dimples and piercing, blue eyes that shrinks you.

“So this is Silas’s little playmate”, he says, voice full of amusement, and leans forward in his chair to get a better look at you. 

He stands up and walks around the desk, walks over to you and crouches down. He takes a grip on your chin, forcing you to look at him. Your neck strains painfully. The man snickers and touches your lip with his thumb, as if wanting to open your mouth—which you refuse. If he forces his thump past your lips, you're going to bite him. Hard. 

“You're a pretty, little thing, aren't you?” the man mumbles and caresses your cheek.

You swallow. You remember how scared you had been the first time you met Silas, how you barely dared dared to move, but that wasn't nothing compared to this. You knew more about this world by now, know just what kind of things that could be done to people. But you also know what happens if you don't do anything—you get married to a mob boss. You slap the man's hand away. He raises his eyebrows in shock, and amusement.

“Feisty too?” he asks and tilts his head. “You'll regret that.”

“What do you want?” you spit. “I haven't done anything!”

The man laughs, a genuine one that doesn't sound taunting. You caught him by surprise.

“You're cute”, he says. “‘You'? What the fuck could someone like you do to me? This is about Silas, your husband.”

“Then get him, what the fuck am i doing here?!” you screech.

“It's simple. You're here as a trading prop.”

“What?”

“Me and Silas had an agreement and your husband hasn't fulfilled his part. I, personally, have much patience, but even i get tired of waiting. You are here in hopes of making him fulfill his part.”

“That’s not fair …”

“That’s how this world works, didn't you know?”

You glare at him.

“You don't know?” he asks, his small smile growing. “If I want something from him, I have to take something he holds dearly to get what I want, because that son of a bitch is as slippery as an eel.”

You glare at him. The man graces your cheek, staring into your eyes. You take a deep breath and keep it in your throat. You just have to keep out until Silas comes and gets you. Everything will be okay.

“And I know for a fact that Silas holds you very dearly”, he says. “The fact that I even have you here is a miracle. There are some who don’t even believe that you exist because of how protective Silas is of you. He is skilled at keeping you hidden.”

“He will kill you for this …”, you mumble and avoid eye contact.  

He’s killed people for less when it comes to you. 

“I’m going to get those papers if it’s the last thing I do”, the man mutters and stands up. “And if I have to do something like this to get them, I will. I’m tired of Silas seeing me as a joke. I’m in the mood to … kid around, a little.” He looks down at you and then at one of his men. “Send him one of his little playmate’s fingers.”

You gasp, letting out the breath kept in your throat. Before you’ve realized it, you’ve stumbled up from the floor and thrown yourself towards the double doors, in hopes of saving yourself of losing limbs, but they’re faster. They grab your arms and drag you back to the spot you left. You scream, kick and fight. When they let you go, the force makes you fly into the opposite wall, hitting your elbow and head in the process. A sharp, colorful pain fills your body. A faint ringing noise in your ear. You ignore it as you crawl together, hugging your trembling body and wishing nothing more than to become one with the wall.

The man snickers and watches you from afar.

“I thought you’d be more brave”, he admits and strolls over to you. “Aren’t you married to a mob boss? Haven’t you already seen all the horrible stuff he does? Hasn’t he done them to you? Or is he the type of man to hide it all from his sweet, little innocent darling? Just like he hides you from us?”

You don’t answer. Silas has put you through stuff, you can’t deny that. He’s been mean and scary, been your worst nightmare. But he’s always made sure that you were aware that he could be much, much worse.

“Answer.”

“He doesn’t show”, you whisper and swallow air. 

“Well, I am going to. I am going to ruin you for him. If he wants you all innocent and pure, I’m going to make sure he gets a tainted wife/husband back. He won’t even be able to recognise you. That will make him second guess trying to trick me in the future.”

You’re sure that your heart has stopped and sunk down to your stomach. If there's something you could have Silas to thank for, it’s the fact that he’s shielded you from all the morbid things he does. 

“Don’t look so scared”, the man smiles. “I’m not going to kill you. You will go back to Silas—you have my word. I’m just going to … roughen you up a little. Show you a different side of the world you live in.”

You try not to show how scared you really are, but you’re sure that you’re as open as a book. The man walks back to his desk and sits down. 

“If you know what’s best for you, you’ll stay there”, he says. “Like a passed out alcoholic.”

The men who had kidnapped you leave the room, leaving you alone with the man who’s going to destroy you. You look around, searching for something to help you, but remain still. You have to get out somehow, have to escape!

Time seem to have stopped, but when the man looks up from the computer, your legs have gone numb. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. “Silas is a clever bastard, hiding your identity. Don’t even bother with any type of lying, I will know.”

You don’t answer. 

“Give me your name or I will rip your fingernails one by one”, he says threateningly and crouches down in front of you. “Do you get that?”

“Yes …”, you gulp. 

“What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

He looks at you, studies your face for traces of lies, until he nods and stands up again. What would you have done if he hadn’t believed you?

“Y/N Achilleos”, he says, tasting your name on his tongue. “Interesting. Nice ring you have there, by the way, must have cost a ton.”

“Why do you want to know my name?” you ask. 

“No reason, really. Just curious. I know so little about you. You’re interesting, whether one likes you or not.” 

“What’s your name?”

He stays silent for a few seconds. “You can call me Tony. You weren’t involved in this world before, were you?”

“How could you tell?” 

The man scoffs with a smile. “I get what Silas sees in you.”

He stands up and walks over to you, pulling you up and dragging your numb legs over to the desk. He sits you down on his chair, in front of the computer. He stands behind you, holding his muscular arms on either side of you, trapping you. You glance towards the video on his computer. The thumbnail is enough to make you sick. You can’t tell what it is, exactly, but there’s enough blood for you to question if it’s real or not. Someone’s tied to a chair. 

“No”, you breathe out, shaking your head. “I don’t want to.”

“You’re going to watch every single video I show you, is that clear?” Tony hisses in your ear. “Or else I’m really going to cut one of your fingers and send it to Silas. I’m not kidding.”

He reaches for the mouse. 

“Please, don’t”, you beg. 

“Why? Are you afraid to see the truth of what your boyfriend is doing?”

You grow cold and turn your eyes back to the thumbnail. 

“I-Is it Silas in the video?” you stutter. 

“No. He’s not dumb enough to film his things, but I know for a fact that he does this kind of stuff too. Watch now, or else I’ll bring out the knife.”

He grabs the mouse and moves the pointer to the play button. The first you hear are echoes of sobs and painful moans. The entire screen is filled by a man with missing limbs. Two masked men are torturing him beyond what a human body should be able to handle. You clench your eyes shut and feel how Yony grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. your neck cracks. 

“I told you to watch”, he hisses. “So watch.”

He throws your head back. Whiplash is hitting you in the tightest places of your neck and you hold a hand over your throat. You continue to watch the video with tears running down your cheeks, and the man hovering above you. You can feel how the image in front of you burns into your brain and you know that it’ll never go away. 

“I must say, watching a video isn’t the same as actually experiencing it, don’t you think?” the man smirks once the video is over. 

You feel sick. 

“Just get Silas!” you almost shout. “Get him so I can leave! I watched your fucking video!”

“Did you think that we were done?” Tony asks. “No, not yet, dear. I’m not done. I’m going to taint you like you’ve never been tainted before. Better yet, I think I’ll break you.”

All his words makes you want to cry, throw up and melt into a puddle. All at the same time. Tony grabs your arm and pulls you up from the chair. He drags you out of the room, through a pair of dimly lit corridors and down a flight of stairs. You stumble in his harsh grip, still on uneasy feet. The room you stumble into reminds you of the worst of Silas’s basement, mixed with that video you just saw. The large room is divided into different parts woty invisible walls. Casino tables, machines made for pleasure you never want to experience, a bar and blood—a lot of it. A hedonistic paradise. The air is thick, hard to breathe, and smells of sex, drugs and blood.

“Trust me, spend ten minutes down here and you will be a new person”, Tony laughs. 

You don't look at him. Your eyes are fixated down on the floor, which is the only place where you don't see anything you don't want to. You can't remember the last time you've been this scared. Your body has stopped reacting to the trial your brain is sending.

Silas, please. Help me. I will never take you for granted again, just please save me.

You’ve never wanted Silas to find you as badly as you want now. It’s ironic, in a morbid way, because usually you want him far away as possible. 

“Let's go make some introductions”, Tony says and pulls you with him to one of the bar tables.

You stumble in front of a group of people sitting with drinks in front of them. You hit your knees on the stone floor, which sends lighting of pain up your thighs.

“Oh my, look at this little thing”, a seductive, slurred woman’s voice coos. “What a cutie, already on their hands and knees for us. Way too easy.”

You’re quick to sit back down and glare at the woman. She’s dolled up in old, torn clothing that once must have cost a fortune. 

“Look at that innocent sparkle in their teary eyes”, another woman says, smiling. “It’s not often you get to see that here.”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, weighing you down like a stone. 

“This is Silas Achilleos’s husband/wife”, you hear the man above you smirk. 

The group of drunk people raise their eyebrows and lean forward to get a better look at you. 

“Silas, hm?” a man asks and get oss his bar stool. “This is a bit too perfect, Tony.”

“He must be pissed that you took them”, the first woman laughs. “I’d pay to watch his face right now.”

You look around to see something else than their mocking, dissecting looks. Instead, you’re forced to watch all kinds of horrors. It all belongs in a nightmare. One you wish you could wake up from. 

Silas, please … oh, God. 

You feel how sobs build up in your chest and pushes up your throat. Your eyes fill with blurry tears. Oh, how badly you want to wake up. 

“Yes, that’s it”, Tonny coos. “Cry for us.”

He pulls out his phone and films you. You try to hide your face in your hands. The woman who had taunted you crawl over and put their sticky hands on you, trying to pry them off. 

“Let me go!” you scream and fight them off, voice breaking. “Don’t touch me!”

“See something you recognize, Silas?” you hear Tony murmur. “Y/N, turn around and tell your dear husband how badly you want him to save you.”

You feel sick to your stomach. There’s no way you’ll willingly give in to the man’s humiliating request. You have never been less dignified in your life, and never been this terrified. The women grab your face, their long nails poking into your skin, and forcefully turn your head towards the phone’s camera. 

“Come on, Y/N”, one of them whispers in your ear, a sugar sweet slurring that makes you want to throw up. “Do it. Show him.”

You shake your head vigorously. They tug at your arms with their gnarly hands, twisting and pulling on you. Their nails sink painfully into your skin, drawing blood. 

“Stop it!” you scream in agony. 

“Beg your husband to save you”, Tony grins. “Let him know how scared you are.”

I hope Silas kills you.

“Silas, please”, you choke out and avoid looking into the camera. “Please help me. Please.”

You hear them chuckle around you. Tony cuts off the video and fiddles with his phone, most likely sending it to Silas. The woman let you go and you curl up, hugging yourself tightly. 

Just a few minutes later, the same phone that recorded you rings. Tony smirks and presses ‘accept’, putting it on speaker. 

“Only the Gods know what the fuck I’m going to do to you for this!” you hear Silas scream on the other side of the line, even before Tony has had time to say something. “And you better fucking pray that your mother will recognise your sorry ass after I’m done with you!”

Tony chuckles. 

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you had fulfilled your end of the agreement, Silas”, he says, calmly. “I want my papers, and you’re going to give them to me if you want Y/N back.”

“Fine, you can have your papers, you disgusting filth! Tell me when and where and I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Oh, no, not now. I’m too busy. How about tomorrow at five pm?”

“No, now!”

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible. I’m not done with your darling yet. I have so much more to show them.”

Silas’s voice is venomous. “Show what? What are you doing to them?”

“If you’re going to bring Y/N into this world, why be so stupid to not show them what you’ve forced them into?”

A few seconds of silence pass. You can see in front of you how Silas exchanges a look with his second in command, both of them trying to see if the other one knows what’s going on. 

“You can’t!” Silas shouts. “You have no fucking right!”

“Stop me then, but I have to let you know that I’ve already started here.”

“If you touch a single hair on my wife’s/husband’s head, I’m going to cut off your cock and make you eat it. Believe me!”

You have never heard Silas this mad before. He really does care for you.

“I’m not going to hurt them, Silas”, Tony says. “That isn’t why I’ve taken them. Hurting them doesn’t help me in the slightest. I’m just letting them see the truth that you hide from them. The lies you tell. Meet me at the old warehouse by the highway tomorrow at five pm. Bring only two men and I will do the same. No weapons, no tricks.”

“I don’t need weapons to kill you. You’ll pay for this.”

Tony smirks and hangs up. He turns to you and pulls you up from the floor. 

“Tomorrow at five you’ll be free”, he says and drags you out of the basement. 

He says it in a way that makes it sounds like a promise, but to you it is nothing more than a reminder of the time he has left to taint you. 

It’s the third man he’s beaten to death this evening. Silas hands are throbbing in pain and he’s not sure if the blood he’s drenched in is his own or theirs—probably both. But he’s not done yet. His body is trembling with anger. He sees red. Silas is sure that even the devil would be afraid of him if he saw him now. 

“Silas”, SIC breathes out behind him, letting his eyes wander over Silas with sadness. 

“Not a word”, Silas hisses, holding his hand back to silence him. “I’ll kill you too And I know I’ll regret that, so stay quiet.”

SIC licks his lips nervously and looks down at his hands, staying silent. Silas breathes out heavily and lets his shoulders slump. He wants to scream, but his voice has gotten stuck in his throat. 

“Do you want to know the worst thing?” he asks without turning around to look at SIC. 

“What?” he wonders. 

“The worst thing isn’t that they’re gone from me. Y/N’s escaped before and I always manage to find them. I know how they behave once I get them back. No, the worst thing is that, this time, i can’t do anything to help them. I have no other choice but to wait for Tony to give them back to me. And until he does, he can do whatever he wants to them.”

SIC lowers his eyes. 

“And I’m scared what state they’ll be in once I do get them back”, Silas says quietly. “I’ve done my best—I’ve worked my ass off, day and night—to make sure that Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on around me. I know that they shouldn’t be in this world and that it’s my fucking fault for dragging them in … but I’ve done everything in my power to make the best of the situation. All of this hard work, for nothing.”

“He could be lying”, SIC says. “Maybe he just said that to scare you.”

“No. I know him. He has shown Y/N filthy stuff. Worse than what they saw on that USB that brought us together. That’s the worst thing.”

SIC swallowed. Silas turns around and looks at him. His black eyes were red around the corners, tears in the bottom. 

“I’d rather have my brother take them again”, he hisses. “Because I know Ares. I grew up with him. I know exactly how he thinks and how he acts. But I don’t know Tony, not like that. I don’t know how far he’s willing to go … no, that might be the worst thing, actually. Fuck!”

He screams out in pure anger and SIC flinches. Silas stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall, where he sinks down on the floor with his sweaty head in his bloody hands. Every ell in his body has lost adrenaline, leaving him aching and hurting in a way he’s never felt before. He can feel his heart breaking into pieces, feel it leaking blood into his lungs. SIC walks over to the wall and sits down in front of him. 

“Y/N’s stronger than you think”, he says softly. “They’ve survived your basement more times than any of your enemies.”

“That’s because I go easy on them.” Silas’s voice has lost any power it had and is now nothing more than a whisper. “I know where their breaking point is and I don’t go further than that. Tony won’t go easy on them. Won’t care about them … even if they scream, or cry, or beg.” He leans his head back against the wall. “I should never have left Y/N in the car. I shouldn’t have brought them at all.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I should have foreseen it. I knew I had fucked up once I saw the dead drivers. But it was already too late. How could I let someone take them?”

“You tried to shield them by letting them stay in the car. Otherwise they’d seen you kill someone.”

Silas rolls his eyes tiredly. “Seems like they’ll have to watch that anyway.”

SIC sighs. 

“I’m going to kill that pathetic little insect”, Silas growls. I’m going to make sure his mother doesn’t recognise his disgusting corpse.”

“I’ll help you”, SIC says.

Silas looks at him. 

“I will do whatever you want me to do”, SIC says. “Just say what, and I will do it. I will always stand behind you.”

Silas nods and hugs him. SIC hugs him back, petting his back. 

“Let’s give that motherfucker butterflies in his stomach”, he says. 

The night seems to never end. The hours have dragged by. You’ve seen more than you ever could have anticipated. Video after video. It never seemed to end. Tony has made sure that you have seen everything possible before five pm. You’re exhausted. The person you were yesterday seem to be so distant, so … different. 

“Very well”, you hear him, “time to wrap up our little visit and send you back to your husband.”

“What if he doesn’t come?” you whisper, mortified by your own words. 

What if Silas doesn’t want you anymore now that you’re not the person he wants you to be? 

“If he doesn’t come to pick you up, I’ll keep you”, Tony replies. “You’ll be my own little guinea pig. I’ll force you to watch everything until your fragile brain breaks. Get up now, we have to leave.”

You stand up, slowly, to not activate the nauseating volcano in your stomach. The images of the night’s horror videos still visible in front of your eyes. They never had to touch you, never had to harm a hair on your head. They could break you, anyway.

You’re forced out of the building, feet dragged behind you. Placed in the backseat of a gray car, pressed between two men— “Bring only two men and I will do the same”. You keep your head down, eyes in your lap, for the entirety of the bumpy ride. You’re exhausted, hungry and broken. Even if Silas comes to get you, he’ll be too late. 

When the car stops, you’re forced out and into an old warehouse. The cold, damp air is hard to breathe. Tony’s grip on your arm is bruising, painful. 

“Now, let’s wait”, he says in a cocky tone. “Silas will be here soon enough.”

Not even five minutes later, you can hear the screeching of a car’s breaks. Your heart stops. Despite wanting nothing more than for Silas to come save you, you’re ashamed to let him see who you’ve allowed yourself to become. 

The sight of him storming into the warehouse with SIC and another of his men makes your heart ache and your eyes to tear up. You’re so relieved to see that he came to get you, and so ashamed. You’ve never seen him this mad before. His black eyes seem to burn, his body language animalistic. His jaw is tightly clenched. He’s wearing his long, dark coat, his hands buried in his pockets. SIC holds a yellow paper file in his hands. Silas gives you a quick look, and all you can see is fury. 

“One word out of you and I’m going to rip your eyes out”, he says coldly and takes the paper file out of SIC’s hands. “Give me what’s mine.”

“The papers first”, Tony replies and shakes you, “and then I’ll return your toy.”

Silas’s reply is short. “Don’t call them that.”

“They’re in my hands. I get to call them what I want.”

Silas eyes are enough to murder. 

“The papers”, Tony says, raising his eyebrows. 

Silas throws the paper file on the dirty, stone floor. One of Tony’s men walks over and picks it up. It takes everything in Silas’s power to not throw himself over him. As soon as the man has returned to Tony, you’re let go. For a second you look around, trying to confirm if you’re really free or if it’s just a test. 

“Little thing, come”, Silas says and gesticulates for you to come.

You don’t need more convincing. Your legs move and before you have the time to register it, you’ve reached Silas’s open arms, a man you didn’t want anything to do with twenty four hours earlier. You’ve never been so happy to see him. You crash into his firm body and feel how he wraps his arms around you. He holds you tight, hiding your face into his shoulder. 

“It’s okay”, he whispers. “It’s okay, little thing, you’re safe now.”

You break out in heavy tears, causing his heart to bleed thickly. You breathe in Silas’s familiar scent, happy to smell something else than the metallic scent of blood. He holds you firmly, mortified of having you slip away from him again. He searches for something to say to comfort you, tries his best to find the right words, but there’s nothing he can say to erase whatever happened to you. Silas glances towards Tony who is busy looking through the file.  He wants to do something, something much worse than what that man did to you, but he won’t let you see anymore horrors. 

“What did he do to you?” he whispers in your ear. “Tell me.”

“He forced me to watch videos of people … o-of people …” 

You can’t repeat it, but you don’t have to. Silas understands.

“Did he touch you?” he whispers, trying his best to stay calm. 

You shake your head without lifting your head out of his chest. He breathes out in relief.

“SIC”, he says over his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Bring Y/N out to the car. I don’t want them to see what I am going to do.”

SIC nodded and took you out of Silas’s arms. His grip on you is softer than you’ve ever felt him be before. SIC walks out to the black car with you. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks and sits you don in the backseat. 

“More nauseous”, you admit quietly. 

“Perfect, then you can drink some juice.”

He opens a bottle of sugary apple juice and gives it to you. You hold it in your hands, contemplating. 

“I’m bruised”, you mumble. “What will Silas say?”

“I thought that you said that they didn’t hurt you?” SIC asks. “Did you lie to him?”

“I fought back when they dragged me around. Silas won’t like it.”

“He’s not mad at you, Y/N. He’s pissed at himself. I will cover all the mirrors for you, if you prefer that.”

“Thank you.”

“Now sit here and wait for Silas to come back. Drink your juice.”

Silas pulls up a gun from his pocket. 

“We said no weapons!” Tony reminds him. 

“You broke the rules by taking my husband/wife”, Silas smiles. “I’m just making it even.”

He’s quick to shoot the two men he had brought with him. They fall down dead beside him, their bodies leaking blood onto the stone floor. Tony’s terrified. Silas drinks it in. He gives the gun to his remaining man. 

“I’m not going to shoot you”, he says and removes his coat, rolling up his sleeves. “I want to feel you die under my hands.”

He runs forward and throws himself over him. Tony’s knocked to the ground. He tries fighting back, but Silas’s anger makes him quicker, stronger. He sees your distraught face in front of him for every punch and wishes that he could kill him over and over again. How could he hurt you? An angel? Silas grabs his head in his hands and slams it into the stone floor, over and over again, until the man’s head shatters. 

“Done”, he breathes out and stumbles away from them. 

He grabs the yellow file and walks out to the car, wiping his hands with his handkerchief on the way. SIC looks at him, eyes asking if it’s time. Silas nods. SIC switches places with Silas and hurries into the warehouse. 

“Hi, baby”, Silas smiles and hugs you. “How are you feeling? Did he make you drink some juice?”

“I’m not feeling like drinking juice”, you say. “But I appreciate it … i’m sorry, Silas.”

His eyes glow with worry. “Why are you sorry?”

“I should have been stronger.”

“You are so incredibly strong, my darling, don’t say that!”

“I tried to fight back.”

“I’m so proud of you. You’re safe now. I’m here now and you don’t have to fight anymore. I have already done that for you.”

“Is he dead?”

“Like a mammoth.”

Silas cups your cheeks and kisses your forehead softly. 

“This is my fault”, he says. “And I will do everything to make things better. I shouldn’t have left you in the car. I shouldn’t have brought you at all. The car has been upgraded, no one will ever manage to break in again. Not that I will ever leave you alone in it again, but …”

He takes your hand in his and lifts it to his lips, kissing desperately. He’s never felt a guilt this strong before. It’s a piercing feeling cutting through his heart. You have a long road to go to feel better, and he will stay with you every step of the way.

“I hate to see you upset … tell me what I can do to make you feel better”, he pleads and hugs your hand. “I will give you anything you want. Nothing is too much. I will buy you anything. I will take you wherever you want to go. Do you want to meet your parents? We can go there, I’m serious.”

“I just want to sleep”, you sob and shake your head. “I can’t think …”

You want to escape this living nightmare in hopes of finding it easier in dreamland. Silas nodded and scooched in beside you, hugging you to his body. 

“Just sleep”, he says softly. “Sleep on my shoulder. I’m right beside you.”

“I’m safe with you … aren’t I?”

“As safe as you can be.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise. Just rest. I love you. I’m so sorry for this. I will take care of you, whatever you need, I’ll get you.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes slowly. He holds his muscular arm around your shoulders to keep you close and wraps his coat around the two of you. His lips never leaves your face as he fights back tears. It grows like a bowling ball in his throat, but he refuses to cry. you are safe and that filth is dead, he tells himself. It’s all over, but his rage is still ravenous. 

SIC walks into the warehouse and takes a quick look at the three dead bodies on the floor, in pools of their own blood. He walks over to the most gruesome one, not needing to see his clothes to know that it’s Tony. His broken skull is enough. SIC takes out a cylinder out of his blazer, a stick of dynamite he’s been waiting for years to use. He lights it and places it in Tony’s mouth before hurrying out of the warehouse. He hears the explosion behind him and smiles. 

“Is it done?” Silas asks as he returns. 

“Let’s say that he’s a hard puzzle now”, SIC laughs. “A thousand pieces isn’t enough to describe how many pieces I blew him into.”

“Thank you, SIC.”

“Of course. The one that messes with Y/N messes with you, and in turn with me. I told you that I would do whatever you wanted.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care of Y/N now. I will clean up.”

Silas nods and hugs you closer. You cling onto him.

“Thank you”, you whisper and meet SIC’s eyes. 

“Of course”, he replies and closes the car door. 

Silas hugs you and kisses your forehead. He has only two people in this world he cares about, and he will kill anyone that dares to come close to either of them.

[ford-ye-fiji]

this got too long for the tags, sorry op you just get this up here now. Anyway, do yall wanna know??? Yall wanna know?!! GET READY HERE IT GOES

background: I, college aged adult, live with my parents and younger siblings. The economy is in shambles okay. I’m glad though because it means I was able to help out with this nonsense.

January 2nd starts with driving my grandma to a faraway hospital for foot surgery. Stop to see her husband Pop (she is in memory care and he won’t move out of their house) HE IS SICK AND IN KIDNEY FAILURE. Meanwhile at home, two kittens go into heat a month early and are peeing around the house. We have to install a pee watch cause if they get on the carpets, it is the literal end of the world. At 11 pm, we pick up a cat cage for them to spend the night in, we can’t get a vet appointment for a couple of days but at least that’s earlier than we hoped for. Meanwhile, we have to force Pop to go to a hospital by calling an ambulance on him. He was literally two seconds away from dying surrounded by his own pee filled diapers. That’s the 2nd day of 2024 and it only gets worse from there.

the rest is under a read more cause it got too long, just like this year

hospital visits hospital visits hospital visits, rehab, physical therapy etc etc etc. We can't let Pop go home now that we’ve got him out of the house or else he'll never leave again. He can’t live alone and he lives over an hour away from us. His house is also a hoarder nightmare we’ve been trying to clean for 5+ years. In March, we finally move Grandma into a memory care closer to us, they say Pop and his 2 cats can move in with them (we had been searching for the last five months for an affordable memory care to take them both- if he could ever manage to convince him to move + cats).

Now, Pop is 90 years old (a fact he is fond of saying) and ready to die (a fact he is also fond of saying) so he makes vaguely threatening suicidal comments (which he has in fact been making for the past 50 years). Memory care freaks out and says he needs a psych eval before he can be admitted and IF HE IS they can still kick him out anytime cause he does not have an official dementia diagnosis (bc he hates doctors). Pop is also pretty much deaf and refuses to use hearing aids plus he has a catheter in (because of the kidneys) so extra fun times. Now, the memory care place tells us to take him to the ER for a psych eval. We get there at 2 pm bc this literally happened MOVE IN DAY. At 2:30 am, we finally return home and since pop has no place to stay and we have no room he sleeps on the couch in our living room. Father HATES this. I could understand at this point. He is a neat freak and pop is unequivocally not. He is the exact opposite. He's Pigpen from Charlie Brown.

Anyway, A WEEK LATER, memory care says ok he can come in. Over this uncertain week, we have come to terms with the fact that they could kick him out again at anytime for anything + pop has an aversion to doctors and hospitals + this will be a living hell for him. Like the man hasn’t been to a dentist in over 50 years and pulled his own teeth out rather than go to see them, he is DETERMINED. We make the decision to finish the basement. It is the only spare room we have available and finishing it would make it livable for a 90 year old man. Plus, with him helping to pay for it and if we budgeted really well it should be possible THIS IS STILL MARCH, LIKE MARCH 25TH, THE YEAR HAS BARELY EVEN BEGUN YET.

We ask uncle (oldest son of pop) to help as he is only other living nearby sibling. Uncle is handy man so can help with basement and thus help pop save money since he is also paying for wife/grandma memory care. He says yes. His wife and our SIL is also like my father. She is a neat and control freak. Pop goes to stay with them while we begin construction mostly bc we have to fill the living room he’s sleeping in with stuff from the basement. My bedroom is in the basement, so I move out of it out and sleep with my littlest sister- who sacrifices graciously with little complaining about the invasion of her personal space. Our SIL on the other hand makes our lives hell for the next two months, constantly complaining about his presence and not being able to do stuff she wants AND that we are taking her husband from her, who btw only came down to our house seven days total to help and that was spread over weekends across about two months. This is all done in passive aggressive fashion over group texts?!?!? Uncle is a really great guy but overestimates how much we can do ourselves. We have to finish with contractors but still got a lot done, thank you uncle, plus we learned how to diy drywall and mud. We still paint the basement ourselves to save money, finish in 3 blistering days and I ache in every way imaginable BUT. JUNE. IT IS FINISHED IN RECORD TIME. Pop is in the hospital again (since around the end of May) bc of an infection. When he is discharged, we take him back. We get his catheter out after a prostate shrinking op, which is wonderful! No more pee on couches from the occasional faulty catheter leaking.

Meanwhile, we have been cleaning out their house, trying to find what is actually salvageable and meaningful in their hoarders nest of a house cause we need to sell it to keep Grandma in memory care cause that is PRICEY. Pop isn’t a perfect house guest but if you leave handwritten notes or ask him not to do things he will comply (like we had to ask him not to clean what little remains of his teeth out with toothpicks in the living room and to not then spit the food bits??? Onto the carpet??). Gentle reminders and wordless gestures pretty much communicate well. He is also always saying thank you and making funny jokes which more than makes up for the downsides. Sometimes he has fits of old man temper, as he is 90 now, but that is to be expected. His brain is going and he is no longer quite the Pop we once knew and loved. Father doesn’t get this and is constantly seething about what how filthy he is. Familial strain is at an all time high because these are the grandparents his children love immensely because they were a) always willing to help- like Pop literally wired our house and b) were always around and always helping us and c) very loving and doting grandparents. However, bc of father's discomfort, we decide to ping pong Pop back and forth with uncle and SIL (they have a massive house and much older kids all moved out except one) theoretically every six weeks. We also finish cleaning out their house as much as possible and sell it. Lots of crying. This is the only house they’ve owned, as dirty as it was, they lived there for sixty years. Mom grew up in it. I practically grew up in it. It’s gone now.

August 16th we send him to uncle and SIL so we can have a break. Our family has given up a lot, especially mom who stopped her part time job + helping out at church + doing things she loved. Shoutout to my mom actually for being the best daughter in the world, I cannot compete. We all just need a minute to breathe from this.

But two days later he’s broken his hip at Uncle and SIL's house. We coordinate hospital operations and get him into a rehab near us. Then move him back in. Since both me and Pop now sleep in the basement, I spend these months sharing a bathroom with him and helping monitor his health. I sometimes wake up and, hearing that he isn’t coughing, go to check on him and make sure he’s alive.

September 16th, Grandma is in the hospital after a fall. After a lot of consultations, it is found that she needs to be on hospice. She doesn’t have long. We spends the next few weeks visiting her a lot and taking pop to see her.

October 8th. Grandma dies. We have to tell Pop. We coordinate and plan her funeral.

December, we need a break so we cautiously send Pop back up to stay with uncle and SIL. Pop has a doctor's visit almost a week and a half later so mom goes with SIL bc she is basically his medical manager and SIL doesn’t really know much.

We've known that his heart could fail at any time and that they could fix it with a surgery (which pop wouldn’t want. He has remained adamant that surgeries are not an option for him, he only got the prostate op done cause it wasn’t invasive at all). There is also a minimally invasive operation for his heart that might give him longer to live, but he needs his teeth fixed first. That will never happen and pop would not want it ever. So, our only option is, he needs to go on hospice. He also needs a short hospital stay (because his heart can’t pump properly so his lungs are filling with fluid, which will eventually kill him if the fluid isn’t sucked out periodically. He is drowning on dry land, it’s horrifying). SIL tries to dump him back with us because of this, she does this without asking or saying explicitly just by bringing all of his overnight stuff back to our house. Uncle simply comes down himself a couple days later to get pop from hospital and his stuff from our house. I am privy to more family drama than I have ever wanted to know.

Anyway as of today 12/31, he is still alive and well and due to come back to our house early on the 1st so uncle and SIL can go on a family cruise. I say Pop for 2k25, he can do it!

THINGS THAT I FORGOT:

-grandma was constantly in and out of the hospital bc of falls cause she forgot she was wheelchair bound and tried to stand

-having to find our grandparents cats a new home which almost didn’t happen and was a huge source of stress because for a time we were afraid that we'd have to give away these sweet creatures to a shelter

-constantly having to drive grandma to wound care that was an hour away because of her foot operation

-in December we also helped my oldest brother move from his apartment to a house and painted his living room and bedroom in three days bc we have painting experience now 💪

-the kittens refusing to stop licking their incisions from their operation and absolute refusal to wear cones and us scrambling to find a solution for that. They hated it but they didn’t lick the glue off and we got to take pictures of their misery so ha

-one heart stopping twelve hours where we thought one of our cats got rabies but he just got out and ate a bug. apparently cicadas can make your cat foam at the mouth PSA everyone

-I finally found another job and I started school back up

-my mom was so stressed her body decided to screw her over and give her vertigo for a few horrible weeks where she couldn’t drive anymore

So TLDR; 2024 was not my year

and grandma and pop I’ll love you forever

[capquinn]

thinking about pranking Quinn with that trend where your bf kisses you and you wipe it off after each one and how he would react

omg i've never heard of this trend but i'm obsessed. if there is one thing i love to write about, it's face smooching. it doesn't matter if it's quinn being the smoocher or smoochee — i'll write about it until my dying breath <3

It starts out innocently enough. Quinn comes home from practice, his cheeks still faintly pink from the cold outside, his hair slightly mussed like he’d been running his hands through it. He’s tired, but the corners of his mouth lift into that familiar, soft smile as he toes off his sneakers by the door.

You’re in the kitchen, absently wiping down the counters, a tea towel in one hand, when he crosses the room to greet you. Leaning in, he presses a quick kiss to your cheek — a small, sweet gesture that’s become second nature.

But as he steps away, heading toward the fridge, you casually swipe at your cheek, your movements quick and deliberate. You think it’s subtle, just a fleeting motion as you turn back to your task, but it’s not subtle enough. Out of the corner of his eye, Quinn catches it, and his steps falter mid-stride. The fridge door hangs open as he half-turns, confusion flickering across his face.

“What was that?” he asks, his voice slow, uncertain, like he’s not sure if he imagined it.

You don’t miss a beat, your expression calm as you wipe an imaginary smudge on the counter, acting like his question is the strangest thing you’ve ever heard. “What was what?”

Quinn’s brows knit together, his hand still on the fridge door. He studies you for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to catch you in a lie. “Did you just…” He motions vaguely toward his own cheek, the question hanging in the air.

But then he shrugs, brushing it off like it doesn’t bother him. “Never mind,” he mutters, but there’s the faintest flicker of doubt in his eyes as he grabs a water bottle and closes the fridge. He heads to the couch, his posture easy, but the way he glances back at you one last time tells you that he's trying to play it cool, but it’s clear the thought isn’t leaving his mind.

A few minutes pass and then Quinn reappears in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his eyes tracking your every move as you fuss with the coffee and sugar canisters by the kettle. He’s trying to look casual, but the furrow of his brow and the subtle way his jaw ticks betray him.

“How was your morning?” he asks, his voice a shade too light, too measured.

“Good,” you reply, not missing a beat. “Ran some errands, got some work done. Why?”

He shrugs, but the way his eyes narrow slightly tells you he’s studying you, trying to piece together a puzzle only he seems to see.

“Just asking,” he says, though his tone carries the weight of unspoken questions.

After a beat, he pushes off the counter, his movements slow and deliberate as he closes the space between you. His expression softens, his smile easy but curious, like he’s decided to let it go — or at least pretend to.

“Okay,” he murmurs, the word carrying a quiet, unbothered edge, like he’s conceding to the mystery for now. But the way his eyes linger on yours says otherwise; he’s testing, searching for a hint of what’s really going on.

And then his lips find yours — warm, lingering, the kind of kiss that makes you forget the rest of the world for a moment. But it's more than just sweet; it’s purposeful, like he’s trying to gauge your reaction, to see if you’ll brush this one away too. So, when he pulls back, his eyes search yours, and you can’t resist. With practiced nonchalance, you lift your hand and swipe at your mouth, as if brushing away crumbs.

His reaction is immediate. His brows shoot up, his head tilting slightly as his arms fall to his sides. He stares at you, disbelief etched across his face, his lips parting slightly like he’s on the verge of speaking but can’t quite form the words.

Quinn squints at you, his lips pressing into a pouty frown that only makes it harder to keep a straight face. He studies you like he’s trying to solve an impossible riddle, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Wait,” he finally says, his voice tinged with both confusion and mild offence. “You’re not… wiping off my kisses, are you?”

You shrug, fighting back a grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His mouth opens, then closes again as he squints harder, the corners of his lips twitching downward. “No, no. You’re definitely wiping them off.” He leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “Why?”

You shrug again, this time with an exaggerated air of indifference, your lips lifting with barely contained amusement. “I’m just… making sure my face stays clean.”

Quinn freezes for half a beat, his jaw slackening slightly as disbelief washes over his face.

“Clean?” he echoes, his voice pitching in offence. His brows knit together, and he leans back just enough to look at you fully, as if checking to see if you’re actually serious. “Are you — are you saying I'm dirty? I'm not sick, babe.”

You bite down on your lip, a valiant attempt to stifle your laughter as you shake your head. “I didn’t say that.”

But the glint in his eye changes. The confusion melts away, replaced by a slow, dangerous grin that stretches across his face.

“Oh, okay. Fine,” he says, his voice low and far too calm.

Before you can even process the shift, Quinn closes the space between you in a heartbeat. His hands cradle your face, firm yet careful, and he plants the loudest, sloppiest kiss on your cheek, complete with a dramatic mwah. The sound is absurd, echoing through the room, and you barely have time to gasp before he’s moving onto your other cheek, then your forehead, your nose, your jaw — every inch of your face he can get to, each kiss louder, wetter and more exaggerated than the last.

“Stop! Quinn!” you cry, your words broken by uncontrollable laughter as you squirm in his hold, trying in vain to escape the onslaught.

But he doesn’t let up. If anything, the mock-serious look on his face only intensifies.

“You started this,” he declares between kisses, his tone resolute. The corners of his mouth are twitching with amusement. “Now you’re getting all the kisses, and you’re not allowed to wipe a single one off.”

By the time he finally pulls back, you’re breathless and red-faced, your laughter mingling with his. His grin is triumphant, the very picture of smug satisfaction, but as his eyes meet yours, the teasing melts into something softer.

His hands slide down and settle on your waist, this time with a gentleness that makes your heart stutter. Leaning in, he presses one final kiss to your lips, slow and tender, a stark contrast to the chaos of moments before.

When he pulls back, his voice is low, tinged with warmth as he murmurs, “Still wanna wipe that one off?”

Your smile stretches wide, your cheeks still flushed from laughter. Shaking your head, you lean into him, your arms looping around his neck as you tilt your face closer. “Maybe one more… just to be sure?”

Quinn’s grin softens, his eyes glinting with something tender as he leans in again, brushing his lips against yours with a sweetness that leaves no room for teasing. It’s gentle, unhurried, and when he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.

“You’re just looking for excuses now,” he whispers, his voice laced with affection.

“Can you blame me?” you tease back, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You started it.”

His laughter is soft, barely more than a breath, and he presses one last kiss to your forehead before pulling you snug against his chest.

“Consider it settled,” he says, his words vibrating against your hair, but you can feel the smile still lingering on his lips.