#Shut your fucking hole!; OOC

[totorolaughs]

VIRGIN! DENJI HEADCANONS

gender neutral! reader, readers chest get called titis (1), loser + virgin denji (?), possible ooc??, no beta read REQUEST ARE OPEN

virgin! denji, the boy you meet in the first day school and is pretty much a loner and a loser.

virgin! denji who thinks he's a lesbian until you explain to him that's not how it works

virgin! denji who as you two get closer gets way more touch (ex: sitting on your lap as a ‘joke’ since other boys in class do it to their guy friends, holds your hands while you back to school and back, rubs his crotch against your behind whenever he hugs you from behind)

virgin! denji hasnt had his first kiss so when he told you, you had told you had a lot experience with girls and could teach him if he wants, which lead to you guys kissing as ‘friends’ so he can learn how to kiss girls.

virgin! denji who finally has his first kiss with a girl but isnt as exciting compared to kissing you so when he tells you, you end up making out with each-other just so he feels a little bit better.

virgin! denji comes home sobbing and calls you over and explains that he had confessed to his crush but he is ejected as she explains to him shes a lesbian, you hold him and whisper into his ear sweet nothings.

virgin! denji who complains that he will die if he doesnt touch a pair of titis, so like the good friend you are you let him touch your plush ‘tits’ which leads into him removing your school uniform and sucking on your sensitive nipples like a baby and leaving your poor chest feeling all sore.

virgin! denji who finally confesses that hes a virgin (which isnt shocking) and is terrified of dying a virgin knowing that hes a devil hunter and could die at any time!

virgin! denji who loses his finally loses his virginity to fucking his best-bro during the weekend

“so i just put it in?” he tilts his head as he looked at you, his brows frowned, you nodded. “yeah just put it in!” denji is hesitant hes never done anything sexual ever unless you count sucking on your best-bros chest or making out with them sexual but besides that he has zero idea on what hes doing! what if when he slides in it hurts?! you cup denjis face in your hands as you place a kiss onto his chapped lips “cmon denji.. dont keep me waiting!” you pout, his cheeks flush red as he slowly begins to slide into your tight entrance “f..fuck! youre so tight..!” as he begans to thrust in and out he feels like hes on cloud nine as he harshly slams his cock into your tiny hole, “fuck denji! f..faster!” you moan as your back arches, you tug on his blonde hair as he yelps, he holds onto your hips “ughh..okay!” he groans loudly, he feels himself getting closer and closer as your velvet walls hug his cock, with one final rough thrusts he begins to cum “c..coming! sosos g..good coming!!” he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, you can feel his warm cum fill you up. you pull away from the kiss to catch your breath “how did i do?..” denji mumbles as he looks away, his cheeks flushed. “you did good, such a good boy!” you giggle he just rolls his eyes “shut up!”

[loveanddeepdick]

would you write something for lads sylus + daddy kink? he’s so daddy/sir im obsessed

sylus x f!reader || FUCK YES I CAN WRITE DADDY SYLUS >.< !! sorry it’s a bit short lol

cw and notes: daddy/sir kink obvi, oral fixation, glove kink, BACKSHAWWTTSSS, creampie, anal play, spanking, reader is a bit bratty, a bit ooc from sylus only cause he’s brat taming u

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

sylus had just finished up a conversation with luke and kieran, trying his best to make them leave his study as fast as he could.

“but sir—these reports—“, kieran sheepishly stuttered, trying to tell sylus about the serious events happening in the n-109 zone

“p-please… i’m feeling quite ill right now. leave before you catch a cold”

“yes sir!”, luke and kieran stated in unison.

right as the door loudly closed shut, sylus peered down with almost a scowl. of course, he’d never be mean to you but he decided he would definitely have to scold your bratty behavior. under the desk was you on your knees and nearly naked, your hands on his muscular thighs as you had his throbbing cock lodged in your throat.

“do you like being a brat?”

you froze, you eyes widen as you pull off of his dick but before you released from his tip, a red cloud pushed you back on, making you gag as his tip hit your throat.

“are you trying to get off when you’ve had my cock in your mouth for the past five minutes, sweetie? or did you only want to get caught being a slut?”, sylus chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned back and spread his legs further, taking in the sight of you under his desk.

“ah—mm”, you pushed off his dick when his evol dissipated, “you would’ve pushed me off or used your evol if you didn’t like it”

sylus smiled down at you before using his evol again, the red cloud pushing you out under his desk and gently onto it.

“oh? and i can leave you here looking like a whore with spit dripping down your chin but you wouldn’t like like it”, sylus grinned, trapping your wrists together behind you with a small dark cloud.

he ran his hands over you, purposely ignoring your sensitive areas as he admired your body. bending over, he was eye to eye with your underwear, nearly laughing at the sight of it being see through.

“sweetie.. you’re so fucking wet i can see your little pussy”, he chuckled, running his thumb along your hole and ignoring your clit

“p-please.. sylus”, you whispered

“begging now, are we?”, sylus looked up, standing up straight again but keeping his gloved fingers on your pussy, “and you know that’s not my name”

“please, daddy, please fuck me”, you whimpered as he gazed down upon you

“yeah, sweetie? and you’re gonna be a good girl aren’t you?” sylus grinned, pumping his cock as he removed your panties, lining himself up with your pussy.

“yea, daddy, yes!”

“fuck, sweetheart, always know what i wanna hear..c’mon now, biiig stretch. yeah, stay still just like that for daddy”

sylus leaned in against you as he pushed himself inside. you felt his cock penetrating your pussy slowly and even when he could be mean, he was still the soft gentlemen you knew. you wrapped your arms around his rugged torso as he began with shallow thrusts.

“fuck, yes! thank you, sir!” you moaned into his hair as he dipped his head in the crook of your neck, his palms planted on the desk as he fucked you.

“better be thanking me, sweetheart. i give you this dick damn near every day and you still wanna be a brat”

“n-no, sir!”, you cried as he began thrusting hard against your g-spot, “i won’t be a brat anymore!”

“yeah? no more being a bad girl?”, sylus licked his lips before he abruptly pulled out, pushing you over and onto his desk with the help of his evol. you moaned as you felt your nipples make contact with the cold mahogany.

“i won’t misbehave anymore, daddy”, you grinded you hips against his as his evol held your hands behind you back still.

“grinding on me like the slut you are, sweetheart? fucking count for me”

sylus took his gloved hand and hit your plump asscheeks once, making you jolt.

“o-one!”

“you’re getting wetter. you like this, don’t you?”, he smirked with another spank

“two!”

he went on until ten and didn’t wait to shove his dick back into you, throwing his head back from the amount of juices you had leaked from just him spanking you.

“not gonna be a bad girl anymore, are you, baby”, he groaned against your ear as he pressed nearly half his body weight on you, his thrusts as hard as ever.

“n-no, not anymore, daddy!” you cried, drooling onto his desk from how drunk you were on his cock.

“gonna listen to daddy from now on?”

sylus waited for an answer but was only met with moans and the sound of your sloppy pussy being destroyed by him.

“fuck, baby, so addicted to my cock you went dumb, huh? guess that means i gotta fuck your brain back into place then”

sylus grabbed your hips, angling into a higher position as he fucked himseld impossibly deeper, hitting your cervix each time.

“fuck, sweetheart, i’m close, cum with me, yeah? cum with daddy—fuck that’s right, cum with daddy”

with a scream, you squirted on his cock, your juices spilling everywhere and dripping down his balls and the desk. sylus pulled out with a proud grin, admiring the mixture of a mess you left on his cock. he knelt down again, using two gloved hands to spread your asscheeks and lips apart.

“don’t wanna be a brat, anymore, sweetheart?”

“mm-mm, daddy, thank you”, you slurred, your face pressed against the desk

licking his lips as he watched your gaping pussy and asshole twitch, he dipped his thumb in, spreading the juices around. he found your asshole again, rubbing his thumb around the right muscle as it clenched against his thumb.

“you want daddy to clean this dirty pussy up or should i fuck this tight little hole, hm?”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

jealous hotchner because he can’t take his brother flirting with you so he shows you who you belong to 😘😘😘 (as in he wasn’t aware he liked you like that until he saw his brother with you and realised he didn’t want sean doing to you what he wants to do to you)

ps. you are an amazing writer and i love your work 🩷

༉‧₊˚. 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 || 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

— pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

— summary: things change thanks to the helpful youngest hotchner (or aaron's a little oblivious but then realizes he's jealous and you guys have sex in the bathroom at work).

— warnings: yet ANOTHER pwp, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, mentioned vaginal fingering, rough sex, doggy style, backshots, mirror sex, bathroom sex, dom!aaron hotchner, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamics, kind of mean dom!aaron, he's just being a little mean, but only 'cause he's jealous, the reader is enjoying every second of it though, a lot of dirty talk, teasing, ass smacking (like once), implied oral sex at the end (m rec), they just match each other's freak.

— wc: 1048

⋆ a/n: WOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO AND DISAPPEAR INTO A HOLE NOW!! this is just a whole mess if i'm going to be honest, but in like... a good way. i don't know if this aaron is ooc 'cause usually he's sweet in most of my fics, but this is just a whole different ball field!

masterlist | AO3

You really, really had no idea how you ended up here, but somehow you were pulled to the side by your boss and found yourself tugged into the gender-neutral bathrooms.

Your lips were rolled between your teeth and your eyes were squeezed shut tightly in order to try to keep the sounds of pleasure from spilling between your teeth. Your hands curled into the counter of the sink, head hanging low. 

Aaron’s large palms gripped at the fat of your hips, your pencil skirt shoved up and over your waist, your panties pulled halfway down your thighs before they sat on top of your knees that were squeezed together. It was hard to keep yourself still in your heels, but you were determined to be good for him, just like he had asked.

One moment you were sitting at your desk chatting away with Sean, the youngest Hotchner brother when Aaron had come storming over, mentioning something about, “Leaving his Agent,” Alone. The tone was unfamiliarly possessive, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t felt his brooding from atop of the stairs near his office.

You could always feel him near you, it was like your body was pulled towards the earth that was Aaron Hotchner. 

You could see it in Aaron’s face as he all but dragged his brother away from you, jaw set tight and eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his suit covered chest. They bulged out in the material and you had to keep yourself from moaning at the sight of them.

Sure, you knew Sean was flirting with you, but it was rare that men would show any interest in you, so you can’t blame a girl for taking advantage of a situation in front of her, though it wasn’t the brother that she wanted.

Anywho, that’s neither here nor there. All you know is, is that one moment you’re walking down the hallway after visiting Penelope’s cave to be dragged away by Aaron into the bathrooms and pressed against the door.

The way he peered down at you was dark and hungry, and he definitely had a goal in mind as you coward. He held you there with his body, large, broad shoulders pinning you to the metal as you peered up at him through fluttering lashes.

Your body fucking burned for him. You knew you would do anything he would ask you too.

Of course this was disorderly conduct, that it was inappropriate, and quite frankly taboo, with the way that he was your boss and you were his subordinate; and oh, you guys were currently fucking in the company bathroom.

If you were going to be honest – and nasty – that only added fuel to the fire that was your dampening core.

You had begged in a small voice, shaky hands raising to set themselves on his shoulders, fingers curling in the material to… steady yourself? Pull him closer? You didn’t know, but he just watched you.

“Tell me what you want.” The question was sultry and demanding and a shiver ran its way up your body, wracking it in its haste. “You.” You would go to whisper, gaze falling on his lips before following back up to his eyes.

He had bent you over the counter, fingering you open quickly before tugging himself out of his slacks and entering you.

“Mmf… fuck!” You couldn’t help but cry as his tip kissed your g-spot over, and over and over again. The stretch burned so good, and the coil in your stomach was tightly wound, but not quite there yet. You needed that extra stimulation and you didn’t know if Aaron was willing to give it to you.

“Shush.” He puffed harshly, the warm air hitting the shell of your ear before he tugged on it with his teeth.

“Oh God.” You whimpered, leaning back into his bites. “I need it, Aaron please… Don’t be mean.” You whined. “You’ll take what I give you. That’s the least you could do after flirting with my brother right in front of me.”

The mention of his brother caused him to punch back into you harshly, sending you forward slightly. You scrambled to tighten your hold again, another cry lodging itself in your throat.

“Nasty girl.” He growled. “What made you think that was appropriate, huh?” Another emphasizing thrust. “I – I didn’t think…” You mewled. “‘Want you only. I promise.” You said with a pout, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah? Only me?”

“Mhm.”

He studies your face before leaning forward to join your lips together. Despite the awkward angle, he holds you steady, one of hands leaving your skin to run circles over your clit.

“Gah!” Your yelp is muffled by your lips, the man all but eating it. You don’t know which fountain of pleasure to chase, hips rocking forward and backwards constantly. 

“I… I…” Your words failed you, and your eyes squeezed shut again. “‘M gonna cum, Aaron baby, can I? Can I cum?” You beg.

He forced you to meet his gaze in the mirror, strands of his black hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead. “Do you deserve it?” He asks darkly.

You think you could cry.

“Aaron…”

“Answer me. Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“You know I do.” You breathe petulantly, but he isn’t having it, the hand your hip slapping your ass instead. “Fuck.” You sigh. “You’re lucky we're running out of time, or I would be making you beg more, understood?”

“Yes, yes! Understood!”

“Good.”

The tight circles return and you keel over, teeth digging into your bottom.

“I wish I could hear you, my pretty girl.” He coos and you cry out as you cum. Your body trembles but he works you through it.

You’re breathing heavily by the end of it, your heavy eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“You think we're done?” He asks with dark amusement. “I haven’t cum yet.”

He maneuvers your body and turns you around, and by the pressure on your shoulders, he’s trying to push you down, and you understand what he wants. You follow his wordless instructions wordlessly, staring face to face with his dripping wet cock that’s stained with your creamy cum.

“You know what to do.” Aaron encourages, and you do.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

[kashimos-hajime]

—dissolve | fushiguro toji

summary: he tosses the pregnancy test aside, digs into his pocket, rips out his wallet, and flips it open, fishing out the few bills he has and sticking his hand out towards you.

��take the money and get rid of it.”

WARNINGS: pregnancy, angst, violence, mentions of sex work, emotional constipation and rep of ptsd pairing: fushiguro toji x fem!reader word count: 18.5k

a/n: came back from the dead to post this. i swear TO GOD!!! that this is not a pregnancy fic. in fact, it's arguably worse because it's a plot point instead. excuse any editing mistakes.

obligatory toji might be ooc warning, but we literally have never seen him act normal outside of his job so i make due w what i got.

inspired by dissolve by joji

on ao3 woohoo

(exposition)

Toji’s made a fair few mistakes in his life. It’s hard to count on his fingers alone how many he’s made, but this has to be on the top of the fucking list.

“What do you want me to do with this information?” he spits as he pulls his pants on past his waist. His skin is burning, flushed red from the haze of sex, or maybe it’s the scoring of your nails down his back. His chest feels like it’s stinging. 

You’re standing before him, raw power, untapped fury. You’re an unpredictability he has never encountered—you drive him crazy. 

You’re also an avid, self-proclaimed misanthrope (ironic, given your profession, and more than a lie, given that Toji knows you), so the fact that he’s still standing here and you haven’t flung a bottle at him once during this whole charade they’ve got going on is admirable.

You don’t look at him, but there’s slick dripping down your thigh, and he’s honestly surprised you’re standing so soon after he’s made a permanent indent into the bed in the shape of your body, but then again, he’s known you for a while now. You’ve always been stubborn, proud, and never want to be seen waiting on anything, so while he’s standing there, staring apathetically at your back, you busy yourself with straightening out bed.

Red neon lights. Men, women, people, all roaming halls, hidden behind purple gauze and thick smoke.

They said the one he’d paid for would be the last one on the left.

Shit, he’s sweating like crazy.

“I don’t know,” you say, tossing the stick behind you without looking. He catches it easily, and stares at the tiny plus sign before looking back at you. You’re rubbing your face with the heel of your hand, and when you turn your head, he sees the frustration etched onto your face. “I don’t know what you can do.”

Toji pulls the door aside, and the figure on the bed looks up, painted lips parting in surprise. He beats you to the punch. “You’re the doctor.”

“You’re the fucked up guy from the clinic.”

And, because Toji has faced real commitment once and lost it just as quickly, he does the one thing he knows best.

He tosses the pregnancy test aside, digs into his pocket, rips out his wallet, and flips it open, fishing out the few bills he has and sticking his hand out towards you.

“Take the money and get rid of it,” he says, but it edges more on an order. You slant your body, frustration dissolving into disbelief at his offer, and your eyes flutter from his hands to his face before your eyebrows furrow together. Your mouth drops open and snaps shut just as quickly, then you’re bending over to gather the closest thing you have to cover yourself. 

You shimmy into a shirt you’ve stolen from him, the one with the worn hole at the back of the neck, and threads coming loose at the sleeves.

Just another mistake he’s made letting you steal from him.

“You don’t get to fuck a kid into me only to tell me to get rid of it, Toji.” You straighten up, and walk up to his proffered hand. Snatching the bills, you smash them into his chest, your palm hitting him square in the sternum. His lungs hitch, but you walk past him to the kitchen and he’s left to watch the bills flutter to the ground. 

Turning around, Toji walks after you, ignoring his hard-earned money smearing the floor. It’s the last thing on his mind, nestled somewhere at the bottom with sex and affection.

Your presence, mellow and tired and unsure, mirrors him. 

It’s probably the realest thing Toji has right now.

“Do you want tea?” you ask without turning around to make sure he’s followed because you know he has, setting the kettle on the stove with a bit less finesse than normal.

“It’s three AM.”

“I didn’t know my question was made redundant,” you snap, and Toji wants to throw a book at your head, so he settles on scowling and grabbing a mug that’s designated as his and sets it on the counter, sliding it over to you. You stop it before it can crash and when they’re pouring over their cups of chamomile in the dead of night, on opposite sides of the kitchen island and illuminated by the single lamp turned on overhead, Toji thinks of you as a mother, carrying a child on your shoulders.

The image comes to him at an uncomfortably quick pace, and he checks his phone. He has a contract, and race bets to make, and he looks at you again. You’re already watching him, mouth hidden behind a mug with a dog painted on the side.

“Megumi is coming over,” he grunts, setting his phone back down on the counter and lifting his mug.

“And if I’m busy?” you ask, because it’s routine that you say it whenever he decides to leave his son in your hands. And they need routine. They need this charade to avoid the storm growing above their heads.

“I’m dumping him on your doorstep,” he answers, “and I’m leaving.”

.

You don’t text him while he’s out on the job, not even your usual restrained good luck.

It’s three days before he comes back, and when he lets himself in with the spare key you keep behind the loose ninth brick on the right of your door, in the fifth row off the ground, you don’t bring it up.

Mostly because Megumi is fast asleep under your arm, and you’re asleep with him, curled around the two-and-a-half year old baby like he’s the one thing you have to protect with your life. Toji doesn’t wake you, but he does remove your arm to pick up his little boy and Megumi knows his father better than anyone. The tiny bundle immediately tries to make fists at Toji’s shirt, and lets out an incoherent whine at being disturbed before burying his chubby little face into his father’s chest.

You shift in your sleep, muttering nonsense. You’re sweating, the back of your shirt soaked when Toji leans over to look. There isn’t anything on the nearby low table except for paracetamol, a barely-finished bowl of okayu, countless tissues and a thermometer. The apartment is mostly a mess, with dirty dishes in the sink, and ingredients left on the countertops.

Toji can still hold his son with one hand, so he uses his free hand to touch the baby’s forehead to find it slightly warm, and then, because he has nothing better to do, he crouches beside you on the couch, and touches your brow, too. Your face is shining with more sweat, and there’s a feverish twitch in your face when his fingertips meet your skin. You let out a soft snorting noise, and he grins blandly.

“You’re pregnant, huh,” he mutters, mostly to himself. Your eyes flutter open, and find his with a tired precision, before you let them shut again. “Hey.” You turn your face into the couch, and let out a crackled moan.

“Your son is sick,” you tell him instead, voice muffled by the couch. “He has the fucking flu.”

“His fever broke,” answers Toji. “Get up and shower.”

“I can’t. My body molded to the couch.” Your voice is thin with fire, hoarse with exhaustion. You’re a burnt out candle still smouldering, and when he touches your simmering cheek, you hiss, slapping his hand and grabbing the nearest cushion, burying your head beneath it. “Stop it. Just take your son and leave me the fuck alone.”

“Shower,” he barks. 

“Go fuck yourself,” you reply with the same burning annoyance.

Megumi yawns, ignorant of it all.

.

You work at a clinic, but call in sick for the next two weeks. Toji knows because he walks past the clinic sometimes on habit on his way back home, depending on the hour. You go on your smoke break at the same time if you can help it, and he’d catch you in an alleyway two blocks down because no one wants to see that their doctor smokes. There’d be a Mild Seven dangling from your mouth, and you’d eye him with an arched eyebrow, but you never questioned his appearance.

Sometimes, he walks you back even though you never ask him to, a new-burning cigarette slung from his lips, and he complains about your shitty taste in cigarette brands.

And you will always ask why he always takes the Mild Seven you offer, and he dismisses it with a shrug, some flimsy excuse of never biting the hand that feeds you.

Toji’s accustomed to stalling coming back just so he can walk past the clinic on his way home, or sometimes, he leaves the apartment with an excuse of groceries for Megumi just in case you’re there, doctor’s coat shed and a ratty hoodie pulled over your frame to hide the scrubs you don’t bother to change out of.

You aren’t smoking on your break when he finds you on one such ‘grocery trip’, but you’re still in the same alleyway.

“Toji,” you say before he’s even fully appeared at the lip of the alley, and you look up, pulling the hood away from your face. You look awful—swollen eye bags, peeling lips. There’s barely any life to your face, and you regard him wearily, something clicking in your hand. Upon closer inspection, it’s your lighter, and your thumb flicking it open and shut.

“What’s wrong with you?” He walks closer, but doesn’t lean on the wall. You look like you’ll lash out if he even so much as breathes in your direction. A rat skitters by his foot. “Don’t tell me it’s that fucking flu and you’re still contagious.”

“I’m pregnant,” you answer dryly. “And I have a nicotine addiction.”

“Smoke a cigarette,” he suggests, moving a hand to his pocket.

“I’m keeping the baby,” you reply. He pauses, blinks, and you only lift your chin at him, folding your hands behind you against the wall. Stretching your legs farther out over the concrete, you sink a few inches down. “So, I can’t smoke.”

“You’re keeping it?” Clenching his jaw, he scowls. “If this is to spite me—“

“Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? I don’t use human lives as playing cards.” Tilting your head back against the wall, you close your eyes. “Or human lives-to-be.”

“So, why the fuck—“

Your head jerks up. “Because I want this kid, okay? Is that so hard to fucking understand?”

“Maybe.” He shoves his hands into his pockets before laughing. “You’re barely a functioning person. What makes you think you’re fit to be a parent?”

“Like you’re the perfect father for Megumi,” you retort dryly. “I don’t have to justify my choices to you, and I don’t care if you’re in your child’s life. For all you care, this isn’t your child.”

Defensively: “But it is.”

“It doesn’t have to be. I’m giving you a way out,” you dismiss aloofly, pushing off the wall and straightening up. Meeting his gaze, you square your shoulders to his, and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m just that bitch you fuck when you’re bored, and you dump your son on me whenever you feel like it. You walk all over me, and I let you. At least you used to pay me for my services.” Toji’s blood begins to burn at the utter disgust and disappointment in your expression. “Do you think I don’t know what I am to you?”

And for a brief moment, Toji is speechless. Not because you’ve shocked him into silence, because he isn’t shocked, but because he genuinely doesn’t know what to say next. Every possible answer he has is shot down by rationale, and you search his face for any sort of response.

You find none.

Another mistake he’s made in his life is tallied down in some imaginary record when he runs out of time.

With a scoff, you shove past him, and disappear around the corner.

He doesn’t chase after you. 

Toji’s just not that kind of guy.

Instead, he takes the newly-purchased box of Mild Sevens from his pocket, flips it open to retrieve a fresh cig, and lights it, cupping the end and inhaling as deeply as he can. 

Pinching the cigarette between two fingers, he leans to the side in that alleyway and spits out a wad of saliva, the taste of the cigarette even sharper than normal.

“God, it tastes like shit,” he sighs to no one before inhaling again.

.

Toji’s kinda sorta fucked up.

He knows that doesn’t escape your notice. It’s how they first met after all—him a nineteen year old lumbering mess of blood and bruises, walking into the clinic mere minutes before your shift ended. You’d just been an intern taking the graveyard shift, and he’d pushed in, chin lifted high, eyes narrowed, finding yours.

“You the doctor?”

How did it spiral into this?

You snip the final suture shut on his shoulder and set the tools down, carefully piling the packaging together.

“Get outta here,” you tell him, slapping his shoulder to urge him off. You turn, disposing the trash, ripping off your gloves in the process.

“How’s the kid?”

“Megumi’s fine. He likes avocados now since I gave him slices with condensed milk on them,” you reply shortly. “Can you leave now?”

“I meant the baby,” he informs brusquely.

If it surprises you, you don’t let it show. “That is none of your business. Leave me alone.”

When he doesn’t budge, you stand there for a moment until he turns to look at you. In your scrubs, face clear but weighed down by exhaustion, you remind him of an exasperated cat owner. Hands on your hips, you worry your bottom lip until you realize he isn’t going anywhere he doesn’t want to and you sigh, gesturing for him to move over on the examination bench. Wedging yourself beside him, you grab onto the lip of the cushion and lean forward, shoulders hunching, head bowed. 

“What do you want to know?” you ask acridly. “I crave sriracha on everything, I puke, I feel exhausted, I want to smoke all the time, and I cry pretty much every night.”

Blinking, Toji opens his mouth to say something witty. He only barely manages out a quiet: “You don’t even like sriracha.”

“I know.” Miserably, you lift your head and let out a sigh that seems to take all the strength with you. “What do you want from me, Toji?”

“I was just asking how you were doing.”

“You never do that unless you want something,” you counter, looking at him. Your eyes are swollen, but Toji doesn’t know if it’s from crying or some other reason, and you smell like three day old clothes. Your gaze searches his, then flutters to a slightly crooked nose, to his lips, to the scars littering his chest. “I’ve known you for years. You disappeared on me, and you came back with a son and a new name, and I never asked questions, but you had to have known.”

“Known what?”

You don’t answer him. Toji isn’t sure if he’s grateful or irritated for it. “What happened to you, you idiot?” Your tone is somber, unbearably faint. It makes your words that much more nauseating. “Why did you come back to me?” He blinks, staring, and your gaze lowers. You quietly tag something to the end of your sentence only to yourself and he is punched by every syllable of the word you utter, every syllable you aren’t aware he can hear.

“Fushi-guro, huh.”

Sliding off the examination table, you smooth out your scrubs and make to leave. “Never mind. I think I’m just exhausted.” 

You reach the door handle. He watches. Footsteps softened by the sound of your crocs, you don’t bother to hide the effects of him keeping you overtime at three AM in the morning, because he’s bleeding and soiled and disgusting, has done to your spirit.

“I got married,” he calls, halting you by the door. Your shoulders have fallen, and your hand on the door goes limp. Toji stares at your back, and wonders when he became so intimately aware of the slope of your shoulders and how they sink even more in defeat when you understand what he’s saying. “She died when Megumi was… nine months old? I dunno. Blood disease, some shit like that.”

Your head turns enough that he can see a sliver of your face—you look pretty in the dim lights of the exam room. All soft edges, sad melted honey at the bottom of cold tea. Forgotten, distasteful. Like you can hold him carefully, and none of the jagged pieces he’s made of will slice your palms open. You look so much younger. 

Like the nineteen year old you were when he came to you in that room of purple silk and candlelight. So tender. Human. It’s been nearly ten years since then, and it feels so much longer.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him, and he knows you mean it.

You leave to change, and come back to find him waiting in the receptionist area, a shadow in the pitch black as you set the security alarm before you go.

“Get out,” you tell him again, and this time, he complies and waits for you in the chilly night instead.

Toji walks you home, despite your unvoiced protest, and he pretends he doesn’t notice that his hand brushes against yours until their index fingers are hooked onto one another. Your gaze flits to him every once in a while, but he merely rakes his other hand through his hair, lips puckered around a smoke before he’s sliding that trembling hand of yours into his pocket.

“Megumi’s still asleep,” you tell him at the door. He leans over without meaning to as he watches your hands fiddle with the lock and key. Turning over your shoulder, you catch him staring, and arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” And he looks away.

You open the door and walk in, turning back when he doesn’t follow. Scowling, you swing your door open wider as you toe off your sneakers. “Are you coming in or not?”

He frowns. “Yeah, sure.”

Tonight, Toji’s not in the mood for sex, and you can barely stand on your two feet without swaying, so while you go to shower, he heads for the guest room that’s been changed into a makeshift bedroom for a two-year old boy who’s fast asleep, his snores filling up the room when Toji pushes in, careful to not let too much light seep in. 

Sneaking across to the crib, he reaches within to pick up his son, and Megumi, never the fussy child, only lets out a little noise of complaint before falling back asleep on Toji’s shoulder. He pats Megumi’s back, pacing around the room and gently bouncing him up and down into a deeper sleep. The walls are littered with terrible drawings Megumi’s made, but they’re hung like art pieces in the Louvre, and Toji stands by the column of light the door lets in, watching the sharp shadows it carves.

Everything still, he waits for something to appear. 

Nothing.

 Sticking out a hand, he splits his fingers into a shadow puppet of a dog, and opens its jaws a few time in a silent bark.

He knows his son has the Technique. He’s seen the hints of it ever since Megumi turned two—shadows flickering when Megumi claps his hands together, the Cursed Energy Toji can sense radiating off of the kid. It won’t be long before some rat starts looking for the inheritor of the Ten Shadows Technique as their new prince.

He sighs. It’s just another thing from his shitshow family to worry about.

“I’ve got blankets and pillows on the couch,” you tell him by the door, and he drops his hand, heat rushing up his face as you poke your head in to see him. Although he can’t make out your expression too well, Toji knows he doesn’t imagine the way your eyes soften when you look at Megumi. “I’m going to go to bed now. See you in the morning. Maybe.”

He nods, and you slip out of the room just as quickly, your bedroom door shutting a moment later.

 He heads to the living room, shedding his jacket and collapsing on the couch with a tired groan. The only light is moonlight filtering through your vertical blinds. His shoulder still burns something fierce, the numbing gel wearing off, and he cups it, rolling onto his side. Through the bandages, he can feel the even stitches you’ve knitted into his flesh, the delicate accuracy of the thread and needle. 

Staring at the table, he blinks at the tablets resting on a napkin right in front of him beside a glass of water, and he sits up.

The pill bottle rests nearby, and he grabs it, eyeing the ingredients. It’s some over-the-counter pain killers, but there’s sharpie that’s covered a lot of the text. Screwing up his eyes, he makes out the first character, and, as his eyes adjust to the darkness, holds up the bottle to the faint moon so he can read the rest of it.

FOR MY HEARTACHES. DO NOT TOUCH.

Eyebrows scrunch. His eyes run it over it again to see if he’s being fucking crazy and reading into it too much.

He shoves the bottle back onto the table before he can do it one more time and grabs the pills, uncaring if the water spills as he gulps them down, shaking his head at the iciness that seeps into his blood from the water. 

Throwing himself back onto the couch, he punches the pillow into shape, and rolls onto his back, haphazardly tossing the blanket over himself and slamming his eyes shut in an effort to block out your neat, slanted writing.

“…I never asked questions, but you had to have known.”

The pain in his shoulder dulls, but there is nothing that can douse the cold fire of his own hatred.

.

“For your heartache?” he asks the morning after like it’s a talk one should have over the coffee he holds in his hand. You’re making yourself oatmeal after spending the first hour or so throwing up. You look ragged, and you glare at him for even speaking. 

Toji sets the pill bottle down, and he watches your expression carefully. Your jaw clenches, and you roll your eyes, stirring honey into your hot breakfast.

“Painkillers that work best for heartburn,” you tell him flatly, snatching the pill bottle and returning it to where it normally rests. “I got this at like two AM a few weeks ago. Why, what’s wrong with it?”

Your heart skips. He ignores the slowly speeding rhythm of your heart echoing in his own chest. “Just never pegged you for the poetic type.”

“Oh, because you peg me for so many other things. Please get your head out of your ass.”

The tension that melts out of his body is profuse, and his shoulders fall as Megumi, with his spoon, flicks cereal at his father with a giggle. And although the relief is overwhelming, there is a peculiar sinking feeling that far outweighs any positive connotation in the fact that he thought you could’ve liked him and your confirmation that you don’t.

He’s insane. 

He’s insane to have thought you could have possibly…

“You’re cleaning this up,” you order. “I need to go to work and I can’t be late. We’ll… talk later. I guess.”

…ever had feelings for him.

Toji goes to fetch some towels and ignores the fact that his insides feel like rotting. What’s it matter anyway?

Except…

No. He’s not thinking of back then. That’s a section of his past he wants to keep sealed in the past, and thats final.

.

His son wants to go to the park one day. It’s how Toji finds himself sitting on a park bench, sipping on his iced lemonade, his son on his thigh watching everyone around them, his tiny hands planted on his father’s knee. Said father scrolls on his phone, reading his emails through his shades, but he always makes sure to kepe an eye out on their surroundings.

Opening up some bets, he leans back, settling his free hand on Megumi’s hip and raising his phone up as he looks through the races. 

“I want,” Megumi babbles.

“What do you want, ‘Gumi?” he asks, squinting against the sun. He should be getting results back for his last gamble in just a few minutes.

“I want dog.”

“Yeah?” Toji says as he lowers his phone and looks around them. “You wanna big one? How many?” There are a few dogs playing in the park around them, catching balls their owners through (“Go fetch!”) and a strange bitterness arises from him. He’s never been a dog person. Not with how he was raised to see them. 

Loyal beasts with no brain of their own. 

“Two!”

Meant to serve.

“Go fetch, dog. ”

Mindless.

“Papa.”

“And you dare call yourself my son?” 

“Papa.”

His phone buzzes, and he answers it like a habit. A swipe of his thumb. Behind his eyes flash a thousand purple bruises, and his scar aches like a sore on his lip as he lets out a tired breath.

“You were a mistake. You should’ve never been born.”

His world is so strangely silent. A curious, spreading emptiness seeps down the column of his throat and into his chest, inhabiting the giant space like a cloud of smoke as the line clicks, and he blinks at the sky. How many days had he stared at this sky, waiting for his world to grow infinitely bigger?

To escape that wretched place once and for all. He had the gall to do it, and the pit of curses had been colder than death.

If he could’ve just—

“Toji?” 

—given up.

“Hey.”

Your voice pierces the haze and he blinks, looking around. Megumi is clutching onto hs shirt with a tight fist, peering at him with frustration, and he uses his other hand to smack his dad in the chest. 

“You there?”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. He sets a hand on Megumi’s head. His hair is so soft, and warm under the sun, and Toji wants to wrap his entire body around his tiny little boy, so he does the next best thing and hauls Megumi up onto his chest and swathes him with an arm. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nah. Why would you think that?”

“I dunno. You just sound off.”

“I’m fine. Can’t I enjoy a nice day in the park?” he remarks dryly, and you huff a snide, sarcastic laugh. 

“I guess you can. I was just wondering if you had plans in September.”

“That’s still a few weeks away.” He can hear your judgemental expression from where he sits so he adds, “No. Not yet. Why?”

“The Kichijoji Autumn Festival. I want to take Megumi.” You seem to speak to someone on the other end, and Toji looks down at his son who’s craned his head to examine everything around him. He wriggles until he’s facing forward, and Toji kisses the back of his son’s head grumpily. The idea of a big crowd never sits well with him. There are too many unseen variables, and too much noise.

“Doggy,” Megumi rambles, pointing out a stubby finger at a bounding labrador, trying to catch a frisbee with a massive leap and snagging it in its jaws.

“Is that okay?”

“What? Yeah. I’m going with you, though.”

“Fine. Yeah, alright! I’ll print it!” you shout away from the phone. With a tired sigh, you return. “Fucking idiot. Sorry. Work.” He shrugs, then says it’s fine, and you continue: “Are you going to be working a lot? I’m heading down to Osaka next week so I can’t take care of Megumi if you’re working.”

“Why?”

“Because… remember Hajime?”

“Skinny fuck with a big mouth. Talked too much.” A tall, lean guy who used to fuck with Toji as a teenager whenever he came to see you. He vaguely has an image of him in his head—cheeky smile, quick gaze, and an arrogance that was all a charade. The kid always knew when to shut up but he never did.

Maybe because he didn’t care. Toji had never seen his own pit eyes reflected in another boy before then, but Hajime still knew how to look like he was happy. Maybe that’s why Toji always let the boy bother him even when he was working maintenance around the House. 

He doesn’t think Hajime has ever smiled a day in his life. So, just like him, Toji knows your spot for your old colleague from the brothel is softer than you let on. 

“He’s not doing well,” you reveal. “I just want to be there when he passes and make it all easier for him. That’s all.”

His throat goes dry. “I see.” The unspoken question passes between them.

“Lung cancer metastasized.” You don’t let that sit for long. “So, it’ll probably be a bit before I see Megumi next.”

Words bite his tongue, and he debates letting them loose. But he wouldn’t. He’d never admit to it. “Probably. He’ll be fine, though.”

“I know.” A beat. “I’m just gonna miss him, you know. I want to see him before I leave.”

“Yeah.” And because it isn’t enough that you’ve been on the phone with him for this short while, he prolongs your hanging up with: “Yeah, you can do that. When do you go?”

“This Saturday. It was the first train I could get, so—” There’s a loud shout on the other end, and your pained groan— “Shit, sorry, I have to go. People don’t know how to do their fucking jobs around here,” you mutter foully, and Toji can’t help the small smile that stretches his lips. “See you when I see you.”

“Yeah.” The line clicks. Toji holds his phone there for a second more before drawing it away and staring at the his screen, His thumb swipes over the buttons to select his contacts, and it opens up to reveal lists of numbers in his history. They’d all been jobs, and he never bothers to write them down. The important numbers are memorized, but other than that, he’s never really kept a contact since he started working again.

Swiping to his saved contacts, there is one square there with a picture, and your name typed out in that little block font. Toji’s grip tightens as he clicks on your profile to enlarge the photo, and he scowls deeper at what it’s been set to. Rarely do they exchange photos, but the majority of the photos you ever send Toji are of Megumi, and in this one, it’s him sleeping soundly in your lap when he was still little.

Maybe ten months. He knows it’s a little after Megumi’s mom died because of how small his son is, and how Toji can’t remember this picture. That whole time period had been hazy. He had just focused on finding you, dumping his kid somewhere so he didn’t have to see the state his father was in, and going out to make enough money to make it last another fucking week.

A part of Toji knows now that you would never have turned him away even if you acted like you would. Even if he never had a baby with him. 

He snaps his phone shut. Your words still haunt him, and the more he dissects that moment—a sliver of a 3AM morning two weeks ago—he starts to wonder if he made another wrong choice eight years ago.

.

Here is where Toji finds himself Friday night: forced to do dishes while Megumi clings to your chest like a stupid fucking parasite. You lounge on the couch, relaxing your ass off. 

To be fair, and Toji rarely is, you had been called in an emergency consultation which resulted in you having to send your patient to the hospital after you couldn’t find out where the pain was coming from, and staying there because the patient had, quote unquote, no support system and was borderline hysterical with the symptoms.

 “She said she had these bruises on her legs and hips like someone was grabbing her, but I couldn’t find anything. I can’t deny that her pain is real—there’s no way she’s faking this for attention because she’s… sane. She knows she’s not making any sense and we had psych do an evaluation,” you had told him when they met up in front of your apartment door. He had takeout in one hand, and Megumi in the other as you jiggled the key in. “Nothing. It’s a mystery. Maybe she’s experiencing some type of phantom pain routed from trauma.”

And Toji knows the answer before you even suggest a logical conclusion.

“She still there?” he had asked.

“Sent her home. No valid medical reason, but I told her I’ll be away, and to call me if she needs anything.”

He scrubs the dish with a dinosaur design a bit too hard, and winces when he sees that the pink colour is fading, but other than that, it remains silent on his end of the apartment. You and Megumi have a nonsensical conversation at the couch and you turn on channel that has dogs on it somehow as he finishes up. He sniffs dish detergent scent clinging to his hands, nostrils twitching at how strong the lemon is before shaking his head and rinsing his hands again.

“Doggy.”

“Yeah. That’s what those are,” comes your lazy reply. Turning around, Toji wipes his hands dry to see you lying on your side on the couch, Megumi sitting in front of your chest. You have your arm draped over his lap and wrapping his waist loosely, but you look asleep where you are. Snorting to himself, he throws the towel down and shuts off the lights in the kitchen.

You raise your head blearily at the dim light you’ve sunken into.

“You finished?”

“Are you?” he shoots back, sinking into the loveseat near your head. You sigh, burying your face into a nearby cushion, and Megumi crawls towards his father, your hand falling to the sofa. “Go to bed if you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired,” you mutter. “I’m just sick of today.”

He picks his son up, setting Megumi on his chest and running his hand over his head. The boy’s dark downy hair spikes up, and Toji tucks his chin to press his nose to a smooth forehead. “Girl still on your mind?”

“Mhm.” You crane your head to look at both of them, and your stressed scowl melts away, the knot between your eyebrows easing as you reach across the gap to tickle Megumi’s tiny socked foot. Squealing, he kicks your hand away and you chuckle to yourself, pushing yourself onto your elbow to tickle him again. 

Crawling up his dad, Megumi’s chubby fists seek purchase as he scrambles to get away, and you laugh, a short, rusty noise. It sounds like a tool that doesn’t get used enough, and you cover your mouth when you laugh, a habit that Toji’s noticed you’ve kept over the years. Megumi’s complaining in his ear, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the way your eyes crinkle when they shut from smiling.

Despite the eye bags, the way your cheeks have gotten puffy from throwing up, the way you shift every two seconds because something in your body’s upset one way or another—Toji finds the way your eyes smile the most brain-numbing thing. He could stare at it forever, but it’s so fleeting that he has the strangest urge to frame it in a picture. Considering rare is it that you’re ever smiling at him when Megumi isn’t with him (although it’s becoming more and more frequent these days), Toji doesn’t think he could’ve gotten used to your smile again.

When he was nineteen, directionless and searching for a place to make it through one day, you had bordered him up in your closet and asked the master of the house with your most charming smile to keep him around because “he’s real handy if he puts his mind to it. Just give him a chance—“

Toji swallows. Such an uncomplicated series of days. His mind always gets so fucking quiet around you. He doesn’t worry about the past, or the future, or any of the stresses of the present (money, food, whether he’ll survive his next contract and the next, long enough to teach Megumi how to throw a ball).

No, his mind is just blissfully silent, resting in the way your words bite at his ears, the way your laugh strums like a raspy harp. 

He doesn’t recall the last time it’s been this quiet as the dogs on the TV bark and Megumi echoes the noise, a sprite of light in the darkness of the living room. It makes you laugh. Makes him hear that warm noise again.

“Put him to bed,” you utter after a while. The documentary has finished, and your voice cracks as you wake up fully. Toji blinks, ripping his eyes away from the screen to see your sleepy face illuminated by the TV. Megumi’s gone quiet, his gentle snores puffing against his father’s jaw. “I’m gonna get into my own.”

“Alright.” He stands and you swing yourself up, tipping over a bit, and his knees lock when the urge seizes him to move forward to steady you. Stomach clenching, a harsh frown passes over his face and he turns around before you can spot it. Walking down the hall, he puts his baby boy to bed just as your shadow passes over the door. You poke your head in to mumble a goodnight again, before continuing on your way. Toji sits by his son’s bed until he falls asleep before he rises again. 

Closing the door behind him, Toji glances to your bedroom. There’s still a lamp on, and he wonders if you’ve just forgotten to turn it off (again), or if you’re still awake despite your previous promise, and for some reason, his feet lead him to this door. 

His hand raises to knock.

“Yeah?” you answer. He pushes in.

You’re on the bed, pushing your feet under the covers. You’re wearing nothing but a long shirt, and your face is soft, tired. You can barely keep your eyes open, and maybe that is what makes you so warm to him now. You don’t have the energy to be angry with him, their situation, for anything. 

“Toji?” you prompt, and he, without a second of hesitation, crawls into bed after you. Your brow furrows as he plants a hand by your thigh, but there is no defense as he pulls the covers away to get under with you. “What is it?”

“I’m staying here tonight. Making sure you don’t fuck yourself over for tomorrow,” he says simply, but the truth is, he hadn’t known that until he said it. Pulling his shirt off, he flings it to the foot of the bed and gets comfortable in his boxers underneath the coolness of your blankets. He’s always ran hotter than most. You keep yourself an appropriate distance, rolling onto your side to face him while he lies on his back.

This isn’t a very common occurence. Toji doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settles with just lacing them over his stomach, and when he turns to look at you, he finds you frowning thoughtfully.

“What’s wrong, Toji?” you prod quietly, resting your cheek on one of your hands. His eyelids flutter, invisible weight pushing them shut as he tries to scramble up an explanation. “We don’t do… this.”

“I’m just tired, I guess,” he grunts. Because, really, he has no idea why he’s here.

Why he’s in your apartment, in your life again. He left it for a reason.

“Okay,” you murmur. Your hand reaches to touch his bicep, and he can’t really remember that reason anymore. “My train’s early, so you’ll probably have to lock the door for me if you’re staying.”

You just rest your fingers there over the curve of his arm, thumb applying a soothing pressure into his eternally-aching body. Toji can feel your heat so clearly through your palm. A napalm grenade waiting to burst as soon as he lays a hand on you.

And he does, not even seconds later, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him. 

“Stay here and sleep with me,” he whispers as your nose bumps into his, and it edges on an order without him meaning to. You swallow, exhaling shakily, and his eyes lift to yours. They’re dark, half-lidded but consumed with an unbearable desire for something that he doesn’t understand. Lifting a lethargic hand, he rests it heavily on your cheek. You arch an eyebrow, and he half-smiles limply, hauling you closer. 

You push yourself on top of him, sitting yourself over his hips, and fold your arms over yourself, fingers tugging at the lip of your shirt. Toji’s gaze widens as you lift it up to reveal a body he already knows every crevice of and he clenches his jaw, dark hair falling into his eyes. Hand shooting to grab your elbow, he stops you just as you slip your head and shoulder out, the shirt hanging off your other arm.

Your breasts are open for him to swing up and kiss, to bite marks into, and they heave gently as you breathe on top of him, perfectly still, your face a whirlwind of emotions as you try to make sense of him. He slides his hands down to your hips, and he presses his finger pads into your back in what he means as a soothing pressure. You let out a tiny sigh, wiggling a bit, and glance down at yourself. 

Your brow furrows. “Do… you not want to?”

“No, no, I…” He sighs, one hand reaching up to tilt your chin back up so you would stop staring at your body like that. You can’t ever think that—Toji won’t allow himself to let you go on thinking that you’re ugly. “It’s not that. I just didn’t mean it like that.”

“Huh?” You frown. He lets go of your chin and trails his hand down your chest, eyes watching his own fingers drift past your belly button until he rests on your abdomen. His lungs seize at the way it rises and falls against his palm. The fat he normally loves to grab and smear kisses all over while your legs shake over his shoulders is so familiar in his grasp. You’re still not showing though. Sometimes, Toji forgets that there’s a fucking kid—his fucking kid—growing inside you, but right now, it’s all he’s intimately aware of.

“It came out wrong.” He grimaces. “I meant… I’ll sleep with you. In the same bed tonight.” He strokes your stomach before grabbing the back of your neck and bringing you down to his level. Bending over, your lips meet his warmly, and you melt into his grasp, legs stretching over his, waist unfurling to lay flush against his body. Your arms sink into the pillow, and your fingers seek purchase in the fabric. Thumb on your chin, he gently pulls your back and he drags his nose along yours, inhaling the smell of your body wash. “Just sleep,” he mumbles against your mouth. “You need to rest.”

You pull away. “Just…?” The pause is audible. You shake the shirt off your arm and he wraps his arms around you, using one of his hands to run over your head. 

Toji wants to punch himself, face burning up in embarrassment. “Lay here and sleep. For fuck’s sake, you’re pregnant, aren’t you? Don’t expectant mothers have to make sure they get enough sleep?”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, face wrinkling. “Well, I, uh, yeah, but—“

“Then, sleep. I’ll wake you up, alright?” Toji pushes you off his body and you let out a soft chuckle, shimmying underneath the blankets. As soon as you’re comfy, he yanks the comforter over your exposed body, making sure you’re covered up, before scowling and reaching over you to switch the light off.

As soon as the room plummets into darkness, a hand slides along his jaw, and another grabs his chin. He looks down just in time for a pair of lips press against his warmly and it isn’t long before their lips are on one another’s, mouths slotting open to allow tongues to dip into mouths. Falling onto his back, Toji’s hand cups the back of your neck and you roll onto your side, your leg draping over his waist, your arms bent between their chests, palms flat against his neck.

Your thigh tightens around him as a soft panting breath leaves you in the form of, “Goodnight.” Toji’s foot slides up your calf. He strokes your ear and you’re resting your head on his other arm, so there isn’t much he can do besides pull you even closer by the shoulders until their bodies are semi colons of one another.

The break—the time to breathe—in each other’s life sentences.

You slither an arm around him. His arm curls around to your back. Their noses touch, and Toji lets out a comfortable sigh before kissing you. Your eyes shut as you mumble something incomprehensible about sleeping. Tiny moans escape your throat when he slowly kisses your bottom lip in a seductive, soothing drag, and another soft whimper sinks into his heart when he kisses the corner of your mouth, your lips chasing his. You whine something barely resembling his name as you tilt your head in an effort to try to reciprocate, a habit more than a choice. 

Toji nearly laughs at you, at the thought of it.

He kisses your chin instead, a wave of exhaustion slowly tiding into his pool of a body, then he returns his lips to yours, kissing you slowly. Sedated. Oozing like molasses into the next kiss, and then another, and the strength begins to leave him as your arm twitches against his body with every press, your leg squeezing over his waist. You’re panting, soft and needy, and your body wants to move, but you’re so tired you have to settle for the exhausted sounds you can muster to encourage him.

Like you want him to keep going, want him to know you’re still paying attention to him, even in your dreams.

You murmur something again. Something hushed in your breath.

“Toji…”

So soft. It reminds him of when they were younger. You were the first person he remembers uttering his name so gently—so undeservingly warm while his heart was trapped in an eternal blizzard. You said it like you meant to—like he deserved to be someone.

Against his will, something warm flickers in his hollow chest.

.

The woman is quiet as she stares at him, blinking owlishly in the way most non-jujutsu types do. Ota Hiroko, twenty-three. Lives with her mom, two younger brothers, and her grandfather. He’d found her pretty quickly, all things considered. You’d only given a name, mumbled into your pillow just to shut him up for five more minutes, but as soon as you’d gotten on your train, Toji had gone to work.

“Can I help you?” Hiroko asks thinly. She looks exhausted, pale, and she’s shaking as she’s holding onto the door knob. Toji almost pities her. 

“You Hiroko?”

She nods, then presses her lips into a thin grimace. “Whatever you’re selling, whoever you are, I’m not interested.”

Toji cocks an eyebrow, and shifts his weight to one side, scanning what little of house he can see over her head. It reeks of Cursed Energy. No doubt what’s made its home here.

“I don’t even know why I bother.” He cocks his head, arches an eyebrow. “Could you stop hiding behind that door? I’m a friend of your friend’s. The doctor from the clinic, remember her?”

The girl’s eyes light up at the mention of you, and she stops clutching onto the door barricading her from him like a shield and reveals herself a bit more. As soon as he can see one of her legs, he sees a pale, bumpy, and gnarled hand wrapped tightly around the woman’s waist, the arm winding around her thigh. 

“Did she send you? She said… she said she wouldn’t be in town, but—” The door swings open wider, and Hiroko leans forward, eyes widening with a sheen of desperation. Toji looks down at the Curse pressing its face into the woman’s stomach, and a coil of disgust wraps around his own gut. “Does she know what’s wrong with me?” 

“No, but close your eyes for a second.” She frowns, and Toji resists the urge to slap some sense into this girl. Taking a deep breath, he reaches for the dagger tucked into the back of his pants, and thinks of something nicer. Or tries to. Nothing clear comes to mind, and his words come out sharp, impatient. “Lady, I can do it with your eyes open, but you won’t like it.”

“Do what?”

“Fix your problem.” Fingers wrap around the handle, and then he thinks of you, sleeping on the train to Osaka. He wonders, idly, if you ate. 

Hiroko frowns, her head tilting. She looks sweet, really, and maybe a bit too naive, but Toji can see why she pulled at your heartstrings.

“Why are you doing this?”

He hasn’t a clue. “A favour,” he answers shortly. “Now, close your eyes.”

(recapitulation)

Stepping into the home, you slip off your flats and stuff them into the slippers, the grip on your bag of groceries tightening. The air smells sterile, dry, and it’s hauntingly silent, but you’ve grown used to it ever since you arrived two days earlier.

Announcing that you’re back, you migrate to the kitchen and set the groceries on the table, delegating what needs to be put into the fridge and freezer, setting the loaf of bread on the wooden board for later. 

“Is that you?”

“Yeah.” 

Closing the fridge once you’ve put away the vegetables and milk and juice, you continue onto frozen snacks and meat into the freezer. Then, you grab a bag of chips, a cup of water, and move to join your friend in whatever he’s doing. You shuffle down the hall where Hajime is already sitting up in what used to be the living room. The TV is on, some program you’re not exactly caught up on but he insists he can’t miss every Monday playing, so you had made him make a list of things he wanted to eat before leaving while he entertains himself with some melodrama.

Ever since his terminal diagnosis, Hajime’s moved his entire life to the first floor of his parents’ house, but that doesn’t mean it makes life any easier. Bypassing the pictures of his family, you sit down and rip open the bag of vegetable chips, tilting it towards him. Throwing aside his blanket, Hajime lets out a rough cough before reaching his hand in. You set it on his lap and touch the blankets pooling around his legs. It’s heated, the electric currents setting the soft fabric near-aflame against your skin, and your heart drops.

Making space for yourself on the couch, you adjust the pillows around yourself and get comfortable, putting the cup of water on a nearby table. On the screen, some people in scrubs are in a conference room shouting at one another, and you rest your cheek against your fist, raising an eyebrow.

“What’s going on?”

“Hospital chief was revealed to cheat on wife with one of his top residents.”

“Damn.”

“Anything this juicy where you work?”

You snort. “No.” 

You think of Toji, and wonder what he’s doing. Your phone buzzed for the last time this morning, when he texted you to make sure that you were still alive, and you promised you’d call him tonight, his job permitting. Your heart clenches at the last night they spent together. The way he had kissed you to sleep, and you had woken before him anyway, his finger curled under your jaw, his chin atop your head.

Your heart warms against your will, and then aches because you miss him. Which you hate to admit, but you do. You’ve long since accepted that your soft spot for the guy has returned stronger, darker. Part of it because he’s older now, they’re both grown, but another part of it is because he’s the same.

The same man who tries to protect you at any given turn, who steals your food, who gives you a little dysfunctional family even though he doesn’t know it.

“You’re all smiles,” Hajime intones suddenly, and you blink, turning to look at him. He’s sunken into the pillows surrounding his body, and he eyes you with an unimpressed disposition.

“Am I? I’m not in a good mood.”

“Because you drew the short end of the stick and came all the way out here,” he remarks, and your mouth opens to protest but he speaks over you, “Hey, you didn’t have to. You probably have a whole life I don’t know about anymore back in the city, don’t you.”

“I’m surprised you even called,” you admit softly. “After I left… I never thought you’d try to find me again.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t change your number.” 

“I didn’t change it just in case you’d call.” His eyes widen and soften, and he looks away, throat bobbing as he swallows. You add, “You were my only friend there, and I promised when I left that you could always find me if you ever needed me, and you need me now, so I might be pissed that you’re dying, but I’m not letting you die alone, alright?”

A beat.

“You’re a big softie, y’know that?” Hajime teases, but his voice is unusually thick. You give him grace and watch the TV as he clears his throat. “Underneath all that bitchiness, you actually care about me, don’t you?”

“Nah,” you say, but your voice is weak, thin. “Just for nostalgia’s sake at this point.”

.

They’re sitting on the balcony of his old room, in two rickety plastic lawn chairs that are weather-worn and cheap. You had carried him up there because there’s no way he’s strong enough to move, but just sitting here feels strange. You’d never known Hajime like this—never the type of friends to visit each other’s places.

Then again, that was back before he forced himself to get back onto better terms with his parents before they passed away. Before you just up and left him.

“Want one?” he asks, offering the box of cigarettes to you. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hand trembles. It’s not cold out, and it won’t be long, you think. You just have a feeling. You’re going to wake up and he’ll be dead.

“I’m good.”

“Never knew you to be someone who refuses a smoke.” He lights up and inhales. You steel yourself for the coughing fit that seizes him suddenly, and you try to pretend it’s not agonizing hearing him hurt like this. It dissolves into a fit that has him gasping, and you dart over, take hold of him as he curls in on himself, the bare bones of his skeleton poking at you through his skin. “F-fuck. Fuck. I’m… I’m fine. J-just—“

“Here. C’mon. You got this.” His heart is racing through his back, and you slowly ease him to the floor, so there’s more room, until he’s lying against you, his head tilted back onto your shoulder. His chest heaves rapidly, pumps of oxygen barely making it through to his diseased lungs, and his eyes flutter shut as he lets the red slip between his lips, down his chin.

Thick globs of dark red. It shines, rivulets that escape down his chin, to his neck. Over his quivering Adam’s apple, his lips parted; wine rose petals, tasting just as sour.

"I don’t smoke anymore,” you say, patting his chest with your hand that’s draped over his shoulder. With your other hand, you shake your sleeve down over your hand and wipe the blood away from his skin. “I’m… I’m pregnant. So, I can’t smoke.”

“Pregnant?”

“Mhm.” You look down, and stretch your arm so your sleeve falls back to your wrist before patting his head.

“It’s Toji’s?”

A lump in your throat. “Yes.”

“…I see.” Hajime turns his face away from you, and a shadow—no, that’s the wrong word—an empty void consumes his face. It makes him look young and weak and alone—everything he doesn’t want to be. 

“Yeah,” he finally adds at last. “You never did get over him.” The world goes mute as he laughs to himself, a soft noise that makes his eyelids flutter. “I’m glad that you came for my last moments even though he’s back. Y’know, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Toji hates everyone,” you snort, ignoring the rot taking root in your chest. You drum your fingers on Hajime’s collarbone, sighing. “It’s him against the world so don’t take it too personally.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

You chuckle. “I guess he can’t hate the person who takes care of his son seventy percent of the time.”

“He likes you,” Hajime corrects, and there is something in the phrasing—perhaps in the tone he says it in (like it’s the most obvious, simple thing in the world)—that flips a switch in your brain. Those three words take root in your head and even though your brow wrinkles and you frown and you shake your head, you still hear those three words.

He likes you. “No, he doesn’t. All we do is fight.”

“You’re the one who convinced the Master to let him stay and”—a sharp whistle. He likes you—“there were more than a few complaints about the muscle outside your room. Y’know,” he laughs again, “they always thought we didn’t need to be protected, but Toji… and don’t let him know I said this, but he made it better. He scared ‘em off. He did.”

Your fingers brush over Hajime’s temple. “I know.” Hajime twists to look up at you through barely-open eyes, and his breaths are flimsy against your neck, as you look down at him, smiling faintly. “Toji was probably the closest thing to a friend I had. Besides you. And the other workers there. But it wasn’t like we were buddies. We were sex workers and he… wasn’t. He was just some guy who lived there.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Hajime’s cheek presses against your sternum. “I guess, he did do some handiwork, and you weren’t the personable type. You still aren’t.”

You snort. “Gee, thanks.”

“It takes a special kind of person to really, really understand you and—“

“Are you really inflating your own ego right now?”

“—and you didn’t want to be there for the rest of your life. Which was fine. But you closed your heart off because you didn’t want anyone to know how you ever worked to put yourself through school, which is fine, but he is the only one you ever opened yourself up to—“

“Okay, and?”

“And he likes you. You’re not half as oblivious as you think you’re being, but neither is he.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t seen him in years,” you intone scathingly, but Hajime leans back, smiling, immune. He likes you. You shove him off you and get up. “You’re only saying that because you pity me. Just forget it, Hajime.”

Coughing, your friend wheezes out, “He’s texted you how many times since you’ve came here?”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You’re playing house with the guy.”

“I babysit his son while he fucks off to god knows where. Do you think he really sees me as anything other than the person who gives him free stitches and puts a roof over his head whenever he wants? I don’t even know why we keep fucking. I don’t why I can’t say no.” You want to tear your heart out of chest and stuff it into Hajime’s mouth just to end the conversation. You walk to the end of the balcony while your dying companion clambers to his feet, grunting, hands clawing at the railing.

“You refused to see anyone else ever again after he left the House,” he wheezes. “You want me to believe that you don’t love him? Then, explain that.”

“That place robbed me of any sort of love. I hate you.” The wind carries and caresses your neck, stronger than Hajime’s own breathing, and you scratch at the nagging feeling, that itchiness spreading into your arms and making you uncomfortable in your cotton shirt. “And I hate him, too.”

“If he didn’t care about you, he would have left already. You know that,” Hajime utters softly, and you close your eyes. “You know he feels something for you. You’re too intelligent to turn a blind eye to that.”

“He’s in love with his dead wife.” The breath that leaves you takes everything you’re made of with it. He likes you. “I’m not going to compete with the person who gave him Megumi. I respect her memory too much to do that.”

“She’s dead,” Hajime murmurs. “And you’re still alive. What does it matter that he loved her? Why can’t it matter that he loves you?”

Can’t you understand? You want to scream in his face. He chose to stay for her.

.

At night, you make sure Hajime falls asleep before drawing yourself up for a vigil, blanket around your sinking shoulders. His breaths are frail, shuddering, and every time he coughs, you jump and take his slowing pulse. You don’t think you sleep a wink that night. Bones resting in a body that’s melded to the chair, you’re nothing but a pair of eyes trained on a face that you used to see every day.

You don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s lost so much weight and colour, and his hair is so thin and patchy. Hajime always refused to shave it, like he’s clinging onto some last part of the old him that doesn’t have cancer.

Tonight’s the night. It sucks. Everything fucking sucks. 

Before he goes, you manage to wake him up. His glassy eyes meet yours, and even near death, there is still that inquisitive gleam to his eyes.

“I don’t hate you,” you murmur. “Really just the opposite. I think I’m dying, too.”

His eyes squint in a smile before slipping shut. He’s too weak to even move his mouth anymore, and you think you’re going to puke.

You miss your old life. It was shitty, and repetitive, and made you repulsed by your own body, but perhaps you wouldn’t be so entirely alone.

You sit by Hajime’s bedside until his heart stops, and when you’re sure he is finally dead, you rise and clear your throat. Sniffing, you head for the surrounding woods. 

(coda)

You don’t call him for days. It worries Toji, but you had sent him one last text saying that Ojiro Hajime is dead.

Then, another text.

Arriving 6AM tomorrow. Hope everything’s fine. Will see you soon.

His answer.

Need anything?

You hadn’t answered. He gives you a grace period until ten PM, and when you’re still radio silent despite him calling, Toji packs Megumi into some second-hand pick-up and drives to the tiny city of Matsushima. There’s a certain panic that he tries to contain. Maybe it isn’t human, but when Megumi cries about being exhausted after waking up in a car seat four hours from home, Toji just barely manages the patience to calm his cranky son whilst trying to stuff down the harsh forces punching to his tongue.

A terrible rotting is festering in his gut. You’re either dead, or you’re in danger, or Ojiro’s death had destroyed you to such an extent that Toji needs to make sure you can still function.

He passes the town line, parks in the first place he sees, and gets out of the car, hiding his sidearm underneath the flap of his jacket. Picking up Megumi, Toji’s ears prick for noise. 

It’s almost two thirty AM. 

You had sent pictures once you arrived. The house is up on a hill. There’s no doubt you’ll still be there in the wake of his death if you’re okay.

So he makes that climb, and smells the wind for any signs of foul play, his one hand supporting Megumi despite being in a baby carrier, and his other hand ready at his handgun. Eyes dart from every stray shadow to another unfamiliar shape. This path is unfamiliar, and although he doesn’t sense any curses, every step makes his stomach coil tighter and tighter.

His steps are silent but hasty as he ascends, and before he knows it, his knuckles are rapping against the door, thunderous knocks that nearly rattle the door off its hinges. There’s the sound of a door opening upstairs before quick footsteps, and he hears you pause to glance into the peephole before the door swings open.

“Toji?” You sound confused, tired, and he grins lopsidedly at the way you still manage to glare at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? It’s late, I—”

“Unhappy to see me?”

Your jaw snaps shut, and you tilt your head to the ground as you mutter, “No. You should come in, though.” At this, your gaze lift to meet his. Exhaustion drags your features to the earth, swallows your eyes whole. “Megumi looks tired.”

“Yeah. He’s gonna be a cranky bastard in the morning.”

Your smile begins to grow, and it brightens your eyes as you slant your body to make room for him to come in. He starts forward, his boot lifting off the ground to step through the threshold of this home. Megumi shifts against his chest. His finger loosens around the safety of his gun.

There is a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. It’s so fast he can barely detect it in time when suddenly, you’re yanked back into the darkness, a black sash wrapped around your mouth. Eyes widening, his heart freezes as a muffled scream wrenches out of your mouth. There’s a thud as the door swings shut, but he shifts his weight back and his foot bursts through the wood, splintering and cracking the night. Megumi lets out a strangled cry at the sudden movement, and Toji’s hand cradles around his son’s head, trying to protect his ears and skull as the smell of Cursed Energy drenches his entire body. It's reek enough for four or five sorcerers at most.

Stepping through the ruined door, he raises his gun into the shadows, blinking the light away. Moonlight streams in behind him, giving shape to objects but the farther away they are, the more they become a monotonous shape. Gritting his teeth, Toji holsters his gun and the Cursed Worm sitting in his stomach is pushed up onto his tongue. He spits it into his palm, guiding it around his neck and when his hand closes near the mouth of the spirit, cold chains push into his fingers.

His ears prick. 

Frantic footsteps, fingers scrabble against wood. A muffled struggle echoes down the hall, and despite Megumi’s rasping cries flooding his ears and giving away his location, Toji can’t escape the panicked racing of your heart above it all. He blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before winding up the chain in a sharp spin, trained wrist maneuvering the weapon like an extended limb.

A door creaks. Grunts. Soft socked feet shoot towards him. His eyes dart left. They’ve crashed into a wall. Collapsed, sounds like, and there’s a ragged gasp.

“Stop!” Your voice sends lightning down his very core, and his eyes widen. There’s figures tussling in a shapeless pile of black, and he swears for a moment, he can see your eyes—pits of black illuminated by pale dots of pure white fear—meeting his. “Don’t! Megumi—”

The toddler boy screams as a hand wraps around your face and drags you back into the darkness. It swallows your figure entirely, and Toji begs for his legs to move, but his knees lock and he looks at the wailing bundle strapped to his body, cursing its existence. There’s too much ambiguity in this hallway.  He can guess how many cousins and uncles and other off-shoot fucks playing at being royalty are lurking on the grounds. There's three in his immediate presence, but he can’t say for certain what sort of back up awaits a gunfight.

If he draws, you’re dead.

If he doesn’t, you’re lost.

The Zenin family won’t think a non-sorcerer civillian woman is worth the precious Zenin blood that Fushiguro Toji will shed, and cut their losses quick. A man steps out of the shadows as you are taken father and farther away, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to ignore the barbed wire gouging his heart.

“We have no quarrel with you, Toji,” Jinichi speaks, and there is that distinct oily disgust that rises when Toji hears his older brother speak. His eyes open to see him standing there, tall and solemn. “We want the girl and the child she carries, and we will care for her well enough to term.”

A harsh scoff. “Please. You’ll pamper her well enough for a prisoner, sure, but as soon as she pops out the kid, you’ll kill her, and the kid, too, if it doesn’t have what you want.”

“Any child of Zen’in blood is welcome. Perhaps she could make a suitable wife for one of our esteemed cousins,” he intones dryly. 

A pillar of fire shoots through Toji, and a harsh, cold laugh spills out of his mouth. “You think she’s well-behaved enough to be a wife. You have no fucking idea what she’s like.”

“Toji, don’t make this harder for yourself. I’m showing her mercy because you seem to fond of her, and you’re my brother.” His brother almost smiles, teeth gleaming in the dark. “Besides, that’s my nephew. I am not as wasteful as our father. I won’t spill promising young Zen’in blood.”

“If you’re aiming to play into some kind of sentiment, you’re stupider than I remember.” Toji’s grip on the Chain of a Thousand Miles tightens. Jinichi has always underestimated him. It’s been a decade. Toji is sure, sure he is faster. “Do you still wanna duke it out like the good ol’ days, big bro?”

“You kill me, she dies.” Jinichi turns around, and waves a hand. The Cursed Energy flowing around the house immediately begins to dissipate, and Toji, for the first time in months, thinks about the satisfaction he would feel putting a bullet in his older brother’s head. “You follow us, you’ll never see her again. You know better than most how serious I can be.”

Jinichi of the Hei glances over his shoulder to make sure the Sorcerer Killer does not mean to follow, and then he, too, sinks into the darkness.

.

They cannot stay in that home, so they do not. Toji takes Megumi on foot, and walks until they find a hostel off the side of the road. The guy manning the front desk is alarmed at Toji’s appearance combined with the baby who has cried himself to sleep on his chest, but he doesn’t ask questions.

Sitting on the bed, he sets Megumi down to sleep properly, and tries to ignore the speed of which his heart is beating. His stomach’s flipped over, and a harsh scream wants to explode from his chest as he shoves himself into the cramped shower. 

The shower boasts no temperature control, and his skin is red from both ice cold and burning heat when he steps out, wiping at the misted mirror. The scar on his lip has flushed where it crosses his lips, and he tugs at it absently.

They’d take you back to the main estate. Highest security, most isolated location, amongst other things. There was a collection of Curses in that cellar, but they wouldn’t keep you in there. There was no point in putting the pregnancy in jeoprady. They have no idea how far along you are until the doctor can get to you. 

But the Zen’in homestead is massive. If you aren’t at the main house, you could be in the acres of woodland surrounding it. No doubt there are hunting cabins, fishing huts, other houses for the branch families to stay in or use that Jinichi could stow you away in. Toji knows some of them, but he hasn’t been home in years. 

He’d have to go back to Hajime’s house, pick up a trail.

Toji exits the bathroom, rubbing at his scalp roughly as if that could work out the headache beginning to fester in the centre of his skull. 

Or, he could leave. Find a place to disappear to, find a new woman to play house with. A nicer woman. One who wouldn’t make such a fuss every time he so much as breathed. He could. What difference would it make? There’s no reason why he should go back to that hellhole. Why he needs to.

Megumi is holding onto his feet, rolling on his back, and there’s a slow, drifting movement between the beds as he giggles, oblivious to it. Toji reaches for the gun he left on the bathroom counter just as his son sits up to look at him, smiling toothily, and two sets of ears prick behind the mattress.

That night, the Divine Dogs come to his son for the first time. They’re nothing more than young pups, but they’ll grow even larger in time—outmatch the hungriest of wolves and the most monstrous of bears. 

But Toji doesn’t need another killer. He’s more than enough.

The shikigami sniff at the place they’ve been summoned to, exploring with keen eyes and wrinkling noses, and Toji stalks forward, crouching in front of the bed and grabbing hold of his son by the shoulders. Megumi lets out a shocked squeal, but he ignores it.

“Megumi,” Toji rasps, stares into those wide eyes. His son has his mother’s face, eyes, nose, mouth, and although it’s agonizing to look at from time to time, Megumi screws up his face the same way you do, and it strikes him now. Why he needs to do this. Why he’s done everything he has for the past few months. “Megumi, I need you to listen to me.”

.

Blood drips off the edge of the his knife as he pushes the door open silently. The figure inside scrambles back, and there’s a frantic, muffled scream as the dogs slither in past his legs. They sniff the air, panting, as Toji pulls his mask down. 

The black dog growls a low warning, disappearing into the shadows and there’s the sound of clinking chains as a heavy gasp pierces the darkness. 

Moonlight streams into the room, illuminating the white dog returning with a wet cloth that must’ve been a gag pinched between its teeth. Toji steps onto the mat, trying to keep count of the seconds he has before they’re inevitably found.

“Are you alright?” he whispers, struggling to push the desperation, the relief from his voice. His heart quickens as a glimmer of your eye catches his.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you stammer. He can’t see the state of your body just yet, but the fact that you’re talking is a good enough sign. “How did you find me?”

“Dogs. Good sense of smell.” He breaks the chains easily with the hilt of the dagger. “Hold this.” Flipping the knife over, he extends it to you in the darkness, and you let out a grunt, fingers drifting over his own briefly before you lift it from his palm. When he tries to find your waist, your breath flutters against his cheek, but you make no other noise, lifting your head over his shoulder. “Can you stand? We don’t have a lot of time.”

“I think so. Move.” You clutch onto his shoulder and push, and he helps you to your feet as the Divine Dogs lope towards the lip of the room once more, alert and ears pricked for any approachers. “I’m fine. I can walk. I don’t know where we are, though, so I can’t be of much help.”

“That’s fine. Just get behind me and watch my back. We’ve got to get to a safe house.”

“A safe house, huh,” you mutter. “Something that comes with the job.”

Toji can’t help the wry smile twisting his lips, reaffirming his grip on his knife. As they approach the exit, he looks back just to make sure you weren’t lying. Your face is smattered with bruises, cheek swollen, and the side of your head is slick with blood, but your eyes are alert. You reach forward and when your fingers dig into his shoulder strongly, a great knot right in his diaphragm becomes undone. 

“Let’s go.”

Slipping out of the room, the two crouch and follow the dogs towards the forested acres surrounding the Zen’in compound. They’ll be able to escape to the river and lose the scent, before doubling back to where they need to go. The nearest safe house is a run-down motel where the owner owes Toji a favour. 

They can plan their next moves from there.

“We have to go back to Osaka,” you hiss as they slink into the gardens. It’d be best to avoid leaving a trail of bodies, although the ones Toji hid earlier of the guards near your rooms would soon be found if the incoming patrols were smart. “Hajime’s body is still in the house.”

“Going back there isn’t my priority,” he replies icily. His eyes scan the path by the koi pond. It’s out in the open, but it’s either that or risking making the bushes rustle as they try to skirt around the hedge wall. “C’mon. We’ve gotta be fast.”

Four shadows dart across the silver lawn, disappearing onto the other side of a well-worn stone path. The trickling of the pond chimes, covers their soft steps as they reach the other end without much trouble, following the path to the servant’s quarters on the edge of the estate. 

Signalling for a stop, Toji crouches behind a rock statue and you fall in behind him.

“Stick close. We reach the end of this building, and run for the forest.” He tilts his head, peeking around to scan the building. The shadows cast by this place are longer than he remembers, and his heart hammers against his sternum. Swallowing tightly, he closes his eyes for a brief moment. Fists take ahold of his gut, threatening to rip him apart from the inside out. If he stops for a moment, will it all come back to him? 

“Toji,” you whisper, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tears his eyes away from the grass. You shuffle closer until your shoulder is pressed against his own, and your fingers ghost over his cheek. “Lead the way. I’ll be right behind you.”

He jerks his head down before ducking around the corner.  The servant’s quarters have always been less extravagant than the main house. It is by no means unkempt, but perhaps it’s the best comparison when placed side by side with the luxury. The wood creaks when Toji steps up onto the engawa, and it whines even more as you ascend beside him. 

It won’t be long before someone comes searching for the source of the noise but they just have to round the corner. It’ll be thirty-three steps and then a sprint into the woods. Toji’s traced these steps before, twice. He hopes this third pass will be his last.

The dogs sprint forward, the white one a shining silver beacon and the black one its blurred shadow. They’ve almost made it, and with luck, they’ll be far away from here come the morning.

Your breath comes harsh and fast, excited or anxious, he’s not sure. He’s so attuned to it that it floods his senses. 

The rhythmic patter of your feet. You’re not far behind. They’re two seconds away from jumping off the veranda. The dogs reach the end of this wooden path. Tails thrashing, ears flat against their heads, they leap.

Then, the white wolf lets out a warning bark, golden glare gleaming like fire in the moonlight.

Toji is running too fast. He can’t think. His instinct is to duck. 

His body moves. His knees hit the hard floor, and he slides past the corner of the building just as a shadow of a man appears in the peripheral of his view. Mouth curling into a scowl, he shoots a hand to his gun. Draws. 

You’re trying to skid to a stop past him, in front of him. His eyes widen. The gun brushes your side, his finger twitching.

He can’t think. His instinct is to pull the trigger. Launch a bullet through your body, silence that man who will no doubt send all the fury of the Zen’in Clan onto Toji once more.

Blood splatters across his face. 

You shove the knife up with a short, sharp huff, piercing through the jaw and up into the brain. before the scream the man was about to let out can escape, and yank the blade out. Blood gushes over your hand in terrifying, oozing waves as Toji surges forward to catch the body, easing it to the ground and grabbing your hand. 

They run past, onto plush grass, into the forest and towards the river, and he can hear your frantic breaths, the thunderous echo of your heart. You turn back to look at the corpse, but it’s a fool’s task. You cannot see your work past the crest of the hill they run down.

His hand slips against your skin, but when your fingers wrap tightly around his own, he trusts you not to falter.

They run into the river, and Toji hauls you onto his back for the rest of the way. Your feet brush against the water and your arms tighten around his neck, but you don’t protest like you normally would. Instead, you rest your head down, and let him take you without any questions. 

They go downstream, then upstream. The shikigami have since been dismissed by the time they have to go back the way they came. Perhaps Megumi’s fallen asleep, but his son has done more than enough that Toji reminds himself that the next time he wants something, no matter how ridiculous it is, he will seriously consider buying it. 

Soaked to his torso, Toji adjusts his girp on your legs wrapped around his waist. You’re shivering against his back, and he catches a glimpse of your face when he cranes his head back enough.

“Fine?”

“Fine.” 

“Almost there,” he continues over the gentle flow of the river. “Motel. You can rest there.”

“That supposed to be safe?”

“Know a guy. Occupational acquaintance.”

“How generous.” You bury your face into his neck. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have come for me.”

“Don’t be fucking stupid.” Turning forward, he grimaces when the riverbed sinks, and he hoists you further up his body. He nearly sinks to his chest and you raise your head to look around. You’re remarkably calm. It’ll come crashing down soon. He wants to be within the confines of four walls before that happens. “If you’re awake, make yourself useful and keep an eye out.”

Your dry response pricks at his ears as your hands push up on his shoulders. “Yes, sir.”

.

The motel is a rundown shit-hole. 

Well, Toji never claimed himself to be a gentleman.

They’re cooped up in a cramped bathroom as he insisted that he look you over just in case there was Curse damage. The light flicks overhead, which you look at while Toji runs a rag under water.

“They won’t find us here?” you ask blankly. Toji turns and sees your placid face upturned towards him. You watch him with steady eyes that haven’t torn away from him for a moment despite how heavy they must feel. You’re exhausted, but by the way your hands are clenched at your knees, you can’t bare to close your eyes. 

“No. They won’t find us.” He crouches before you, and begins to rub at your face. The blood has crusted and flecks off when he touches your temple, and you flinch. “Did that hurt?”

“No. No, they didn’t… it was because I tried to run. They knocked me out.” Your fingers shake uncontrollably as you reach for your head. “Head wounds bleed a lot… I promise, it doesn’t hurt so bad.”

“Don’t feel rattled?”

“Not from a concussion,” you affirm. He gently pushes your hand down, and you let out a long, deep exhale. “They can’t hurt me when I’m carrying their blood, I think is what they said, so I’m okay, I think. I need to go to the clinic to make sure, but I’m okay.”

“You’re not going back there.” Taking hold of your shoulders, he is sure to look into your eye and speak slowly. “I don’t give a fuck about money—we’re not going back to Tokyo."

“We?” you echo. Your lips twist into a bitter scowl, and you push his arms away. “Toji, I don’t even know what happened to me. I got kidnapped because of you? Is that it?”

“Yes,” he snaps. “Because you decided to keep the kid. They found out, and they want that kid more than you probably do.”

“But why? They said something about a technique. Shadows, something.” You shake your head and your eyes narrow as you stand, stepping over and around him. Bracing yourself against the sink countertop, you stare at your own reflection. “What have you not been telling me?”

“A whole slew of things.” He rests on his knees, stretches the rag out to you. You turn to take it and begin to clean up your own complexion as he struggles for words. “A world you don’t know about. My job. You never asked questions.”

“You wouldn’t have wanted to give me any answers,” you retort. You temper your breathing, try to keep it even, but as you see yourself more clearly, Toji hears every painful inhale. Every agonizing hitch in your lungs. “I just wish I could understand.”

“I know. I know this shit doesn’t make sense. It’s not fair.” He shakes his head. “I owe you. I know that.”

“You never pay your debts.”

“That’s true.” A bitter chuckle escapes him. “But you can still… if you get rid of that kid, there’s a chance they won’t touch you.” Your lips part in protest, and you twist to look down at him. Rising, Toji feels gutted raw, everything inside him scooped out and replaced with nothing but sawdust. His joints ache strangely. His throat scratches, his eyes burn. He’s had enough of this sick existence, and he wants to throw up until his guts are clean of glass. “And I’ll disappear. You won’t ever hear from me again.”

Your erratic inhales quiver as he pulls the rag away and lifts his other hand to brush the side of your head. He dabs at the impact wound as you stare hollowly into his chest. 

“Do you think that pays back your debt to me?” you ask stonily. “That that even begins to cover what you owe me?”

“No,” he replies. The light flickers overhead. The buzz of old electricity hums between them. “No, but it’s the only way I know how.”

Your eyebrows scrunch when he presses too hard. Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t make a sound. Toji bites his lip hard enough he begins to taste iron, but he can’t speak. He doesn’t trust himself not to say something incredibly, irredeemably stupid.

You save him from that. You save him from so many other foolish things.

 “You don’t get to run from me and pretend it’s for my benefit,” you whisper in a dull, dead way. “That’s not going to happen. You understand me? This Zen’in Clan… they’re going to come for Megumi, too, aren’t they? Those dogs. He… he really likes dogs. You said they were his, so it must be what they want.”

He touches the rag to your swollen lip, his other hand tilting your chin up. “Yeah. And the Zen’in Clan is one of the most powerful political families in our society.” You peer at him in the pale, cold light of the bathroom. It paints you in an unflattering palette, but when Toji meets your gaze, a cold, icy dagger sinks into his back. You still look at him with the epitome of surrender. Underlying any sort of gentleness or hate or fury, there is that knowing. 

They are entirely at each other’s mercy.

“I see,” you reply measuredly. “So, we have no chance.”

“You do,” he insists.

“No, I don’t.” Your lips press together. “I’m keeping the baby. They’ll come for me regardless of whether or not you’re here. So, really, if you think leaving me is what’s best, I can’t change that about you.”

His heart flash decays in his chest and he shoots the rag into the sink bowl, planting a hand on the countertop and grimacing. Bowing his head, he digs his fingers into the porcelain and watch the blood water slowly trickle down the drain.

He doesn’t want to leave you, can’t you understand that? If he did, he would’ve left you with his family to die. That is the most permanent solution he could ask for. If it was the better choice for his own self, the guilt would eat him alive, and he would’ve let it, but he didn’t. Toji knew the consequences of the choice he made when he set out for his ancestral home. 

You’re here with a bounty on your head, and you’re asking him. Asking him to do something he can’t do anymore, and he knew you would.

He came for you anyway.

You exhale a shivering breath, inhaling another one before it can fully escape, and turn away from the mirror. The shadows nearly envelope you entirely. 

“I’m going back to Osaka in the morning,” you tell him with no room to protest. “Hajime deserves a funeral. You either come with me, or you don’t. I’ve killed someone today. I doubt there’s not much more I wouldn’t do to keep myself alive, so don’t do it out of some obligation to me."

You rest a hand on his chest, against his heart, before you nod to yourself.

“Goodnight, Toji.”

You leave. The handprint that lingers burns like arsenic.

.

Toji jumpstarts a car and they drive to Osaka in silence. Megumi is asleep in your lap on account of the lack of booster seat, and you don’t look at him the entire way there.

When they reach Hajime’s house, it is dawn, the air frosty despite the sun on their faces. The place is as Toji left it, with a hole through the front door. You don’t comment on the scrambled interior, and merely traverse through to the backyard where a stack of wood has already been cut.

“Help me build a pyre,” you instruct shortly. “It’s what he wanted.”

Toji spends the better part of the morning building the pyre. You stay inside to make food, and return with Megumi an hour and a half later. The boy is still asleep, which is both a miracle and a relief. Toji had worried that using the Ten Shadows would drain the child at first, but his son is strong.

He’s just finished the platform as you cross the lawn. Pulling off the gloves, he shoves them under his arm and meets you halfway. “Here.” You extend a plate towards him. Eggs, sausages, and half an apple laden the dish, and you jerk your head over your shoulder. “There’s rice porridge inside.” He nods, and your eyes drift to the pyre. “Here, take Megumi. I’ll continue where you left off.”

“Where’s…”

“Upstairs. On the balcony.” You grab the pair of gloves from him. “No good for Megumi to see that, y’know?”

He nods again. “Alright.”

Brushing past him, you make your way towards the chopped wood and lift. Together, they finish the pyre just past mid-day.

You retreat into the house and slip into one of the rooms upstairs as Toji finds anything that can be scrapped together into lunch. Holding a bowl of instant noodles and steamed vegetables, he finds you asleep in an empty room, curled atop the covers and holding a pillow tight to your chest.

Placing the food on the nightstand, he perches on the edge of the bed. He debates waking you up, his hand settling on your arm, but when you don’t stir immediately, he decides against it. You didn’t sleep much the night before, and woke up early. That, and all that pregnancy business. Toji doesn’t know half about it, but he knows enough.

Perhaps it’d be best if he left you be.

.

You wake up in the late afternoon. 

While you eat outside, Toji carries Hajime’s body and lays him to rest. It’s a pitiful thing to look at. The boy is pale, skin loose, hair patchy, and there’s a sort of fragility that unsettles Toji. He had been nothing but a bag of bones in the end, and resembled more of an old man, but his skin is so smooth, unwrinkled. 

How is that supposed to make any sense?

Toji wonders if you’ve ever smelt a burnt body before. When they light the pyre, and watch as the entire structure goes up in flames, Toji does not watch Hajime disappear. Instead, he keeps his eyes steadily trained on you. The fire reflects in your irises, brings a synthetic life to dead eyes.

For a long while, they don’t speak. Toji leaves briefly to attend to Megumi, and he watches through the window as you stare at the fire consume the remnants of your old life. He heats up leftover okayu for dinner, and brings both a bowl and his son out to accompany you.

Dusk slowly settles over the horizon as he hands you the bowl. You take it without complaint, sipping. He briefly squeezes your hands, touches the back of his hand to your forehead, and you shoot him an arched eyebrow. Megumi lets out an appreciative noise at the pretty fire, slapping his hands against his father’s forearm. Toji shrugs.

“He told me not to tell you,” you say as his hand falls away from your head, “but he was grateful to you.” Eyebrows shooting up, a deep frown twists Toji’s mouth but you only smile fondly. “You made sure we were safe, even if that wasn’t your intention.”

“I suppose.” His eyes drift distantly over the burning logs. "Tell him I say you're welcome." 

.

Megumi falls asleep again within the hour. It must be a combination of warm food, his father rocking him, and the exhaustion from the previous days lingering. When he rejoins you, you’re standing, your empty dish by your feet, and you greet him with a curt nod as he finds his place next to you.

The fire is steadily burning away, although it’s been a while now. The whole ordeal will be done before midnight.

You loop your thumbs through the belt holes of your jeans. “Will they know where I live if I go back?”

“Yes.” He kicks the disturbed dirt near his boot. The sound of the wood bending and finally snapping cracks the night. “They might offer you money once they realize you’re alone. When the kid is born, they’ll just take him if you put up a fight. If you don’t, they might let you stay. Then, they’ll wait a few years. Find out if the kid has what it wants. If it doesn’t, they’ll throw you out and keep the kid. If it does, they’ll marry you into the family. The claim is illegitimate otherwise.”

“What claim?”

“The Ten Shadows. If the child can control the Ten Shadows, then there’s no doubt they’ll groom them to be the next head of the clan. And they’ll treat ‘em like royalty, so maybe, it won’t be so bad for the kid. It might even be good. Better, if it’s a boy.”

“The same would happen if it were Megumi,” you point out. “You don’t consider bringing him back? Let him be raised as a prince?”

“They’d either pay me or kill me for him. I’ve considered it before,” he admits. “I don’t know why I don’t.”

“I see.” You lift your head to the smoke rising up into the inky sky. A signal to those around for certain, but Toji doubts the Hei would regroup and attack again so quickly. “They won’t let you stay with me.”

He shakes his head. You worry your lip between your teeth, and turn back to the pyre. The wind blows gently, pushing the ribbons of orange, yellow, and sparkling red towards the trees.

“You got a light?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching into his jacket, he sniffs. The smoke’s reminding him of his own nasty habit. “What are you thinking?”

“Weighing my options.” You shove your hands into your pockets and withdraw a lighter. Pulling out his box of Mild Sevens, he pinches one between his lips and cups the end. You lean over, torching the end and frowning delicately when you note the cigarette.

“Do y’mind?” he mumbles.

“No.” The sizzling end of the cig is covered by the sound of your lighter clicking shut and he takes a long drag, turning his head away. “Dick move to do that in front of me, though.”

He snorts in amusement, smoke escaping. “I’ll quit when the baby comes.”

“Whatever you say.” You hug yourself, tucking your chin in. “Do you… do you think you’ll be here when the baby does come?”

Toji blinks. Run, a voice inside him demands. You’ll kill her if you stay.

“It’s a nice image,” he says against his better judgement. Your eyes drag to his figure, and you take a half-step towards him, hand reaching out, but he jerks his glare down at your extended appendage. Immediately, your body freezes, and your hand curls into a tight fist. Softly, he rests a hand atop your knuckles and gently pushes down. “Megumi would like a sister.”

"Well, I want you to stay." The flames flicker across the apple of your cheek, and you finally take hold of his sleeve. “I want you to want to stay. I know it’s too much to ask. It’s selfish. But I have watched you leave before, and if I have to watch you leave again, fine, but only if I know it’s for the last time.” Your fist shakes. He pinches the cigarette between two fingers and exhales towards the pyre. “And you promise you’ll disappear. For good. You, and Megumi. You understand me?”

As tender as a man like Toji can be: "Yeah, I understand.” 

You let go of his sleeve, step away, and face the pyre too. The flames are not as tall as they were before, although they’re no less bright and voracious against the night. It’ll still be an hour or more yet until it’s snuffed entirely, which you seem to grasp as you sit down on the grass. Drawing your legs to your chest, you rest your chin on your knees and let your entire body slouch forward. Toji glances down at you before sidling in a little closer and finishing his cigarette.

Flicking the bud towards the fire, he lets out a cough. The taste is something he’ll never get used to. Soon enough, though, it’ll probably be the last reminder he has of you if he goes. Just some pack of cigarettes in a gas station as if that’s enough to represent you in your frustrating entirety. 

Toji wonders what sort of person he is to think about this when your best friend is burning in front of them. He wonders, too, about what Hajime had said about him. He hasn’t spoken to the boy in a decade, haven’t thought about him in years. There had been a time where they’d almost been brothers.

He debates smoking another cigarette, for his sake, but you wouldn’t appreciate that even if you don’t tell him no. 

He settles on not smoking, and watching the smoke on the pyre instead. Eventually, a weight leans against his leg. Your head against his knee, you don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t give any indication that he’s even there. Lips twisting into wry, pitiful sort of grimace, Toji carefully crouches down, setting a hand on your head. You cant your head upwards, meeting his gaze.

“I’m sorry, too.” You lift a hand to his cheek, and your thumb stretches to brush over his lower lip. Your head tilts as you examine the scar, but then you’re lifting your gaze to his nose, trace the shape of his brow. “I just can’t let this one thing go.”

“I know.” He smiles grimly. “But to be honest, you hold a grudge.”

You mimic his smile. “Yeah, I know.”

Tilting your head forward with his hand, Toji closes the gap between them. Their noses brush, and your face, your exhausted, angry, beautiful face, is all he can see. The flecks in your irises, the stray hairs along your eyebrows. He runs his fingers down the side of your cheek as you turn to look at the fire, and remembers how hard it was to leave the first time. It rips apart old sutures in an ancient part of his withered heart. He wasn’t so much a coward that he left a note while you were asleep, but the way your face had glazed over into a placid numbness lingers.

“I know another safe house you can stay in long term,” he says as the wood pyre creaks and crumbles. There’s the sound of a few tumbling, crashing logs and your head snaps to the source. Continuing on, Toji tries to ignore the tight ball clogging up his throat. That damn fucking cigarette. It’s made his mouth feel all funny.

He plants a knee on the ground, and sheds his jacket. You’re about to shove him away but he lets out a sharp warning, forcing it around you.

“If you get sick after being out in the cold and inhaling all this smoke, how’s that good for the kid?” he snaps, and you stop, staring at him. “That place is good. They’ll keep you warm, and fed—”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks. You pull the lapels of his jacket tighter around yourself. “I can take you there, and it’ll be near Tokyo. Somewhere more familiar.”

“And then you’ll leave again?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, do you want to leave?” you press, pushing yourself to your knees. Toji pinches the bridge of his nose as you grab his arm. “Toji. If you’re just going to leave, what is the damn point of taking me somewhere else? Why wouldn’t I go back to your crazy fucking family when I know for certain they’ll take care of my kid?”

He nearly gawks at your stupidity. “Because they’ll treat you like shit. They’ll turn your kid against you. Do you think I’m the prime example of good family dynamics?”

“No, but…” Your fingers dig through his shirt. Clenching his jaw, he refuses to look at you as your other hand latches onto his shoulder. Why can’t you see? Is he not being clear enough? You can’t go back there. Toji knows you’ll die one way or another, and while he can bear it enough to be apart from you—to kill you is to inflict a mirrored wound on himself. 

“No.”

“I know what I am compared to you. Compared to them. I’m nothing, Toji.” His name slips from your mouth, reed-thin and desperate. “Toji. Look at me. Please.”

He’s never heard you beg before. It stings like a poison, swelling up in his lung. Silent, he only looks down at your hand. It springs off his arm as if he’s scalded you.

“I don’t know what sort of world you’ve been living in,” you admit dully. “And maybe that’s my fault for never asking the right questions. But you can’t expect me to keep listening to you like it’s for my own good.”

“I’m not looking for reasons. It’s what rational, you idiot. It’s because of your association with me that you’re being targeted. It would be smarter if we split up in case they come looking again.”

“Well, it’s too late now!” You shoot to your feet, yanking his jacket off your shoulders. “I’m scared out of my fucking mind right now, and you’re talking about dumping me at some safe house near Tokyo. As if I’d stay there when I know there’s a place I might be needed. I'd be irreplaceable if I go back. At least for a little while. Which is maybe more than I can say for how you see me.”

Rising, Toji bites back the harsh insults that want to pour out of his mouth. His heart splinters as you shove the jacket into his solar plexus and you let out a rattling breath, twisting to face the pyre once more. Oxygen knocked out of him, Toji lets his jacket fall to to the ground and his body moves before he can command it. 

His foot steps forward, his hands reach, and his mouth opens.

“Don’t play a hero, Toji.” You spit the words out bitterly, as if you cannot stand the taste of him anymore. “It doesn’t suit you.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you blink and your eyes begin to glisten in the firelight. Catastrophic amber set in your diamond-cut face. “If you’ve already decided, why can’t you just act on what you want?”

“Because what I want,” he murmurs slowly, fists clenching tightly as his sides, “is not the same as what’s best for you.”

Your head slants, just a fraction, and the corners of your eyes soften as you regard him. “Who are you to say what’s best for me?” Ducking his head, Toji squeezes his eyes shut and ignores all the voices in his head crowing at his stupidity. Every muscle in his body trembles as the grass crunches underneath a heavy foot, and when fingers brush delicately over his arms, he flinches back. “Toji.”

Tough, callused fingertips gently find his chin and tilt it up. His eyebrows knot together even tighter, and he jerks his head away but the hand is insistent, sliding along his jaw and pushing him back towards you.

“What I know is that the father of my child is the person best suited to protect me,” you utter with such misplaced conviction. Lips twisting into a pained scowl, he shakes his head. You cup his face, wrench his head so he is forced to look at you. A wet trail has carved a path down your cheek. His heart stutters in his esophagus. “You being here by my side in these damned woods makes me feel safer than if I were alone in some safe house because I trust you. Can’t you understand that?” Can’t you trust me, too?

The thing is, Toji has always trusted you. Had faith in you in a time when he didn’t believe in anything. The countless stitches that have been snipped by your scissors, and the gauze you’ve packed against his wounds are proof of all of that—invisible lines on his body that have healed perfectly because of your diligence and the long, pink scars in your absence weave a story he’s been writing for ages, but the endings diverge, and he tries to imagine both.

When you blink, another tear steadily traces the curve of your face, and he can’t stomach it. With a rough thumb, he swipes the tear away before grabbing you by your shoulder and yanking you into him.

Your arms immediately wrap around him, hooking on his shoulders. Holding the back of your head, Toji closes his eyes and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Their bodies meld together, slot together like two pieces. As the fire begins to die and the smoke clears, clarity finally comes to him in the shape of that image again.

A child. A baby girl, Megumi’s sister.

“Take care of Megumi, okay?”

You had been right. His son has the Ten Shadows. If Toji sold him when the signs first showed up, he could’ve haggled enough to sate him for a lifetime. Why didn’t he?

Your lips brush the curve of his jaw as you let out a long exhale.

He can fool himself into thinking it’s because he wanted the certainty of knowing it’s truly the technique his family has been searching for, but it’s because he knows what princes are treated like in the Zen’in Clan. He wants the best for his son, really he does. He’d give it to him even if it meant he’d have to erase his blessing from his mind to make it happen.

But that possibility of you, out there, living a life he knows nothing about anymore.

Maybe that is the way. To keep his son happy, and to keep his son with him for the time-being.

Your fingers entrench into his shoulders hard enough to hurt. He runs a palm down your back before wrapping his arm around your waist. 

Toji wants to run. He wants to stay. He wants to make enough money to not worry about gambling debts, but he aches to see his son grow up. 

And, of course, now, he would like a daughter. He’s decided a daughter would be good, too, for the end.

“Do you think I don’t know what I am to you?”

Toji wonders if when you had asked that question, you had truly known his answer.

Only one way to to find out.

“Okay,” he finally whispers. Your head tilts inwards, your nose against the long cord of his neck. Your breathing is erratic, featherlight and hopeful as he closes his eyes. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

.

Three weeks later, a woman, a man, and a toddler boy walk past the torii of the Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College. Despite the weapons trained on the man’s chest, he proposes calmly, almost arrogantly, a deal they’d be stupid to refuse. 

The service of the Sorcerer Killer in exchange for room and board for the three of them.

Yaga Masamichi accepts.

[oceanreveuse]

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗻𝗲𝘂𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲.

◟fem!reader, NOT CANON AU, think of this as like... an evil, meaner version of neuvillette! that means yes, it'll be ooc by canon!neuv standards fyi, massively nsfw, dacryphilia, dragon man w a lot of stamina, two dick neuvi, overstimulation, breeding, neuvillette with forked tongue, penetration, dom!neuvillette, sub!reader, petnames (angel, darling, sweetheart), momentary praise (good girl), very short but it was just a thought - not proofread. ◟anastasia's footnote : this was spawned by a conversation with yukari earlier so this is how i'm spending my halloween evening; yet again, this is not canon!au neuvillette. it's like alternate universe. shadow realm. the evil akasha possessed haitham. that type!!

another long, slow thrust into your tight heat and this man has just about lost it. the two of you had been at this for hours, perhaps for longer than your fragile human body could withstand but he was at the point of caring less. NEUVILLETTE was certain you'd take everything he gave you, pushing you to the limits just for a little more of his seed, just for your womb to be filled to the brim with hot, sticky substance as if it was your lifeline. you had a safe word, you was very good at tapping out too so the dragon was past showing any concern.

you were so good for him, so obedient and willing to take his dick - or dicks, depending on the day. sometimes filling one hole up was simply not enough for him, perhaps his day as the iudex of fontaine had truly pissed him off. white hair drapes over his shoulders, brushing against your bare skin that's sticky and hot to touch, red streaks giving you some semblance of colour in the dim lit room. he had to run out of stamina eventually, right?

"n-neuv," you choke out, wanton moans and the lewd slap of skin drowning out your attempts at coherent sentences, "please!"

the dragon raises a brow, briefly amused at your apparent need to beg him. beg him for what? for relief, for a moment of recovery, for more potent seed, for a change of position? all the options and neuvillette was reeling at the imagery it gave him. a smirk tugs at those pale lips, hovering just above your neck as he inhales your scent so deep, fangs bared at the thought of just biting down on your skin. it's oh so tempting, he digs his fingertips into the plush skin of your hips just to gain some semblance of restraint.

"what is it, angel?" neuvillette chuckles, deep red eyes lifting to admire the glossy affect in your tears - what's this? tears threatening to drip down your cheeks and merge with the drool on your chin and jaw from laying on your back for so long? "enjoying being such a good darling for me that much tonight?"

the whimper you release is drowned out by neuvillette's low growl, the tip of his second cock bumping against your sensitive clit as it slides through your soaked folds with every sharp thrust he delivers, determined to finish you both again - and soon. the tears are on the verge of spilling, a black forked tongue licking at neuvillette's lips like a parched man.

finally, one falls down your cheek, rolling a path along your skin that his eyes narrow in on almost instantly. he knows you're too fucked out to acknowledge it, to even notice anything past his hips drilling into your wet cunt and his heavy balls slapping against your ass. neuvillette leans forward, almost pressing your body in half. he grunts as you squeal, blown out eyes blink blearily up at him with that damn innocent look.

he's so close to blowing another load into you, pumping you full of cum and ensuring you're bred, round and full for the sake of his legacy as the iudex but first... your eyes are squeezed shut, not expecting the rough slither that trails from your jaw up to your cheekbone, licking up a salty tear.

"fuck," he breathes, his nose bumping yours briefly as he swaps sides, his tongue wet as it follows the path of your tears that just keep flowing as a result of overstimulation, "you taste so much better than i thought you would, sweetheart."

there's a wicked grin on his face, his fair skin glinting with sweat in the candlelight. neuvillette's hot breath fans over your face, your little sniffles and whimpers almost matching the rhythm of his cock bullying your sweet hole and neuvillette bares his fangs once more, "i think it's time to reward you one last time for being a good girl, don't you think?"

© oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

◟the waves call for : @kokonoiis @tetsuskei @reonaissance @ryuryuryuyurboat

[ the magazine is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

[sorenwuzhere]

The Day After

cw: dubcon, male reader, overstimulation, implied prior engagement in sexual activities, ooc, porn without plot A/N: I have never read or watched Jujutsu Kaisen and I don't think I will have time to do so anytime soon so don't expect an accurate writing of Toji. I just wrote this purely for the horny lol. This is also a pretty old draft I wrote this back in 2021 and haven't edited it, just wanted to get rid of it from my google docs. Anyway, enjoy or don't.

Toji’s eyes fluttered open just doing that seemed hard, a familiar ache in his lower abdomen and his ass. Memories of last night came flooding back, he opened his eyes fully and saw your naked body lying next to him, sleeping peacefully, it’s almost like you weren’t the person who fucked him until he passed out last night. He groaned in annoyance, partly from the pain that’s coursing through his body and the other from the fact that he wasn’t able to top you last night, there was also a bit of anxiety from you telling people about this, but it turned him on more than anything even though he was too prideful to admit it. He tries to get up but is immediately pulled down, he looks up and finds you pinning him from above

“Where are you going, To-ji” you asked the smaller man, saying his name mockingly, he tsked at you before answering

“I’m going to get something to drink” he replied

“Hm, why do you have to go anywhere for that? I have something for you to drink here” you replied slowly stroking your dick, smirking upon seeing the faint blush on the tips of Toji’s ears

“W-what the fuck are you saying” Toji replied after much thinking, silently cursing himself for stuttering, you smirked raising your eyebrows in amusement, you hold your dick on your hand jerking it off faster, Toji quickly catches you doing so and tries to hide the fear and anticipation 

“What- you’re-” before he could even finish you place your dick on top of his chest, pushing his pecs together, his pink cheeks blooms into a bloody red, words stuck in his throat

“Hah, so all it takes for you to shut up is a cock? I knew you were a slut” you spoke after a while, he opens his mouth to give you a snide remark but before a sound could even get out of his mouth, you thrust your dick inside him, his eyes widen in surprise and he gags from the sudden thrust

“There you go, just shut up and take it like the slut you are, yeah?” Toji closed his eyes as he unconsciously nodded his head, swirling his tongue on the tip of your cock to try and take a taste of you. You snort at his face, you haven’t even done much yet but he’s already so pliant, looks like fucking him dumb last night did the trick.

Again you thrust your hips to his mouth and he quickly responds licking your cock all over and bobbing his head the best he can, Toji brought up his hands to his chest and brought them together to give you more stimulation, he pushes his body up to rub you, you sigh in pleasure, breathing becoming more ragged as he continues, you continue on thrusting your hips in a slow steady rhythm, you stop for a moment and he looks up at you as if searching for an answer why you stopped but he didn’t have the chance to ask why when he felt your tip prodding his entrance teasingly, small whimpers escapes his lips while you tease him with your tip, he was getting frustrated he just wanted you inside of him already! 

“Are you putting it inside or not?” he glares at you, you hum amused at him for snapping at you, you snicker then finally snapped your hips forward to get your cock inside him, despite how much you fucked him last night his hole was so tight, sucking you in so eagerly.

Toji moaned at the feeling of your cock inside him, no matter how much you pounded him last night he couldn’t get used to the feeling of your cock inside him, it was just too much, your scent, your size, your stare, everything was so overwhelming and he wasn’t sure how to deal with all of these things at once, it was almost suffocating and although he would never admit it out loud he wouldn’t mind drowning in your presence.

You wanted to wait for him to relax but recalling how much shit he’s given you, you pushed the thought back and started thrusting into his tight hole. Toji was caught off guard. He didn't expect you to go immediately; he thought you’d at least be considerate enough for him to get ready, but he found it quite…hot.

“Hah, you’re hole just tightened, is this turning you on? What a slut" You asked the small man, he let out a choked moan, he couldn’t catch his breath from your pounding, how do you still have this much energy after everything you did to him last night.

Toji looked dazed, all you could do is chuckle at his expression, putting his legs on your shoulders and pressing his chest with yours, you trailed kisses down his neck and then bit onto his skin that was already full of bruises, he screamed as he feels blood trickle down his neck

“Ngh- not- AHH!” again he was cut off by his moans as you set a punishing pace, pounding into him roughly

“Haah! Agh Ahn~ W-wai- you fucking- ba- Hahh~ bastard” Toji kept getting cut off by his moans, it was actually quite impressive despite how fast you’re going, you wonder how fast you’ll need to thrust for him to shut up

Finally you stopped thrusting after a bit, he pants and tries to catch his breath propping himself up using his elbows to look at you

“What? Tired already? Thought you were going to shut me up with your dick? You ca-” Toji let out a silent scream, you thrust into him again this time harder, faster, rougher, he didn’t even know that was possible, what is with this inhumane speed? 

“Hmm? Why are you quiet now? Isn’t. This. What. You. Wanted?” you asked, thrusting harder into him to emphasize your words, all he could do as a reply was to moan and whine he couldn’t let a single word out because of the sudden shock of you thrusting in him

“That’s more like it, you’re prettier just being an obedient little slut so just stay that way, alright?” you taunt the man, he nodded dumbly too fucked out to register your words. You chuckle, he definitely looked better dumbed down like this. 

Toji suddenly shivered and you took that as a sign that you found his spot, you smirk at him and adjust his legs to hit his spot precisely, pistolling your hips you aim for his spot and thrust into him fast and rough, just how he liked it

“Mhh- Ahh! Ngh I- going to- ha- ack!” Toji tried to tell you that he was close but he was so fucked out that you can’t understand anything he’s saying but the tightening of his ass, his shivering, his lolled out tongue and his rolled back eyes spoke for itself

“Hah, cumming already? Aren’t you a certified whore how can you not take at least this much?” you said, getting cut off to breathe every once and again from how fast you were thrusting

“Ngh- can- please cum–!” he said again trying to warn you, opening his mouth wide a scream ripped out of his throat as he came all over his stomach and chest, some of it landing on your stomach, but even as he just came you still haven’t stopped thrusting, sobbing, Toji tried to push you away

“N-No mo– Ah~ ngh- plea- I- haah~” sobbing in between his words, you don’t bother trying to understand his words, just indulging yourself with his inside and chasing your own high you were even more turned on by him sobbing underneath you, Toji was terrified to feel you grow bigger in him, how was that even possible? 

“You- just now you- nggh~ I— haah~ wai-” Toji couldn’t let out coherent words anymore he was so drunk at the feeling of you, he can’t handle this any longer, just how much more will you keep going? 

Finally after what seemed like forever, Toji felt your cum fill him up and pushed him to the edge as he came again moaning your name. Toji pants, sighing in relief as he tried to catch his breath, his relieve was short lived as you pushed out of him and lift him up to make him lay on his stomach then push inside of him again

“Haah! Ngh~ Please I can’t anymore, no- m-ngh- haah~ more p-leashee~!” Toji’s begging fell onto deaf ears as you adjusted his hips, putting his knees on the bed and lifting his ass before pulling out until only your tip remained in him before slamming in again and again not letting him catch his breath.

Toji clutched the sheets and again tried to get away from you, crawling away, but your hard and fast thrusts made his legs wobbly and he couldn't find the strength to keep on moving.

You smirk as you feel him stop trying to get away and slowly giving in to your touch. You lean down to his ear and nibble on his earlobe 

“That’s it, did you figure it out? Below me is where you belong, so stay still~” you whispered huskily in his ear, Toji felt shivers down his spine upon feeling your hot breath on his nape and hearing your husky voice that’s a bit out of breath from how fast you were going.

Feeling his hole suddenly tighten you groaned causing his hole to tighten around you even more, ah did he find that hot? Toji was easier than you thought. Hearing you chuckle right beside his ear, Toji felt his face getting hot, what the hell is up with him? Why is he feeling this way? Over a chuckle? How fucking pathetic

“You keep on squeezing me Toji, what are you thinking inside that pretty little head of yours hm?” you comment, and to your delight that made him tighten around you even more

“Haha, you make me feel so good baby, let me repay the favor~” you whisper teasingly, adjusting your grip and the position of your thrusts, you thrust into him perfectly hitting his prostate, Toji gasped. 

You began hammering into him smashing his prostate repeatedly, the poor boy couldn’t even let out a whole moan as he keeps getting cut off from more of his moans, his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he clutches the sheets harder, he bites onto the pillow below him feeling ashamed of the loud moans he keeps on releasing. 

You brought your hand down his face and forced him to look at you before you went down and crashed your lips with him, your other hand going down to his dick stroking him rough and fast, Toji gasped as you had planned, you shoved your tongue inside his mouth, exploring the inside of his mouth kissing him feverishly.

Toji feels himself melt and become more pliant to your touches once he feels your tongue inside his mouth, gulping in his moans and kissing him as if you’ve starved and his lips are the only things that can satiate your hunger, and he wasn’t wrong— you have waited way too long for this, you’re going to take every chance you get and make sure he won’t be able to forget the way you touched him and played with his body as you please like no one did before.

Separating from his lips you place your hand on his tits, you start to squeeze and massage them, pinching his nipples and playing with it. Toji's breath becomes ragged and whines every now and then slips from his mouth, everything was so overwhelming, just then his vision turned white and again he came onto the sheets, tears pricking his eyes and falling down his cheeks onto the sheets, not long after you came inside him 

“Haa I- hngh~ are- mmh!” Not understanding what he’s trying to say, you caught his lips in yours and kissed again, Toji noticed a trace of gentleness and savored every single bit of it until it quickly disappeared. 

Feeling him stop from moving you separated your lips from him, seeing him passed out you quirked your eyebrow, you contemplated if you were going to continue or let him rest, glancing at his face to see his peaceful expression one more time, you came to the decision that you’d let Toji take a rest for now.

Pulling out of him you picked him up and laid him down on his back, taking out the sheets and venturing into the bathroom to fetch wet towels to wipe his body down with. After replacing the sheets and cleaning Toji and yourself up, you lay down beside him, pulling him close to you. You convince yourself it’s just because it was cold and wanted some source of warmth, before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

[catbread0]

hihi can I request an x reader for Sebastian with someone whos a similar creature to him but bigger yet they manage to be pretty swift on their tail (to the point its kinda scary/j) /nf !

Sebastian Solace x Experimented! Reader

I hope this meets your request standards! Ty for requesting and sorry for any mistakes.

°ʚ(*´꒳`*)ɞ°

Words: 1,362

Mention of death, fluff, a bit OOC, some curse words

All the information I found is from the official Pressure wiki, urbanshade.org!! NOT FANDOM WIKI (MOST STUFF ON THEIR IS NOT CORRECT, PLEASE CHECK THE OFFICIAL WIKI!!) (Note: I made this before the friendly fire update came out)

Sebastian Solace Masterlist

Peculiar Experiment

Sebastian was going around Hadal Blacksite to find more data and information to blackmail Hadal Blacksite or send the information to rival companies. 

He was currently in a room that had a large window. On the other side of the window was pure water, nothing else. As he was searching through the many desks in the room, he saw in the corner of his eyes something through the window, but when he blinked, it was gone. 

Sebastian thought it was his eyes messing with him and chalked it up to him being blinded by the flashed beacon so many times by multiple inmates who walked into his shop.

As Sebastian continued into another room with another huge window, he found some items to sell to the inmates. He doesn’t actively seek to discover them. He just ends up finding them by accident and decides to make good use of them by trading. 

He saw the figure again, but he couldn’t identify the figure due to the room being dark. 

At first glance from afar, it looked like it was a normal height. However, as the shadow figure drew closer to the glass, Sebastian realized that this unknown monster was not normal in height. He is 10 '6", and somehow that monster was much taller than him!?

Sebastian tried to figure out who exactly this monster was. Until the creature punched their hand through the window. Water started flowing into the hole rapidly, filling the room quickly with water.

Sebastian jumped from the sudden movement and glass shattering. He immediately grabbed whatever he could and slithered out of the room.

The monster saw Sebastian slithering away and wanted to catch up to him. With that, the creature kept breaking the window until they fell into the room. The creature immediately recovered from the impact and started to chase after Sebastian.

Sebastian saw the figure closing up on him somehow, even though he had a whole head start. 

He shouted in an enraged tone to hide the fear that was starting to settle in him, “WHO ARE YOU!? GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!”

He soon reached a room that shut the door behind him. He was trying to shake off the feeling of panic but then heard the noise of rustling behind some desks.

He immediately took out a flashlight he had picked up earlier and pointed toward where the desks that the sound was coming from.

“SHOW YOURSEL-”

Before Sebastian could fully finish his sentence, the same creature jumped towards him. 

The creature was hugging him?? He thought he would surely get killed or something since he was to be killed on sight by Hadal Blacksite.

“I never thought I’d find another specimen like me! Although you are quite small and slow.”

Once the unknown creature let him go, Sebastian got a better look when the creature pulled their anglerfish light, making the room light up a bit. This creature was almost similar to him. They had fin-like ears, a sea snake-shaped body, and a large and long tail. There were some differences. They had a third eye, but on their left side (his eye is on his right side), claw-like hand, but they have 5 fingers (while he has 4). 

But the major difference was the height and speed. They were 17 '3" and extremely fast. You had somehow gotten in the room when the door had closed only a few seconds after he entered. 

“Im specimen Z-##, but my real name is (Y/n)(L/n)”

Ah, now he remembers, he found your folder of what happened to you a few days ago while looking around.

You were an LR-P, or in other words, a low-ranked prisoner who's kept in their cells unless they are called upon for experiments. The experiments would often be dangerous or deadly. You were part of the experiment to give humans gills, just like Sebastian, mixing your DNA with other DNA strands from multiple different sea creatures. After the experiment was a success, you were still an LR-P and sent back to your cell. That was until the lockdown was caused, and you escaped your cell after someone unlocked the doors.

When Sebastian finally got out of his daze and replied, “I didn't expect to do sudden introductions out of my shop today. But since you didn’t kill me, I guess there’s no harm. I'm Sebastian or Z-13, to be exact.”

You continued to talk to him while he continued to collect stuff while heading back to his shop.

“Why are you collecting these folders filled with data from others? It’s not like we can undo what they did to us.” You asked him.

“If I can get enough information, then I can sell these to rival companies or, better yet, blackmail this hellhole of a company.” He spat out the last part with venom in his voice.

After spending time with him, you decided to help Sebastian with his goal if it meant stopping these horrible experiments on other people. 

A couple of months go by, and you slowly start to have feelings for Sebastian. Even if he is snarky, unpredictable, and sometimes violent, he does lend a hand to the inmates who come to his shop. He’s respectful to those who also respect him. This includes you too, since you help out a lot, it helps him have more time to try to reach his goals.

When inmates would disrespect you, whether it be making rude comments about your looks, how tall you are, or using their flash beacon on you. Sebastian would charge the inmates more than usual, or sometimes he would take the flash beacon from them if they bought it from him, or he would defend you by making sneaky comments or mocking them.

You want to tell him how you feel towards him, but you don't want to mess up the friendship that you have with him.

It was another day or night, you couldn’t tell, but it was quiet today. No inmates were coming into the shop today. How rare. Not even the other monsters were making noise like they usually do when there are inmates in the halls.

You let out a sigh of boredom and stretch yourself out a bit, “Did they run out of prisoners to send down here or something?”

“Probably, I mean no one has gotten the crystal yet,” Sebastian said as he pulled on his anglerfish lure to light up the small room.

It was silent for a few minutes before Sebastian spoke again, “Since it seems no one is coming to the shop today. I would like to tell you something.”

Now that grabbed your interest, “Yea? What is it?”

It was silent for a few seconds again before he looked up at you, “I'm going to get straight to the point, I like you and want to be in a relationship with you.”

Well, that wasn't what you expected, but he is unpredictable at times, so you couldn't blame him for that.

“..You couldn’t have been more, you know, romantic? But I do feel the same way about you.” You teased him for his straight forwardness.

“Well there’s nothing romantic I could get from down here, so I might as well do it when no one is here,” Sebastian answers you.

You end up moving towards him, cuddling him. The two of you looked at each other before you leaned down toward him and kissed each other. 

Bonus!

While you and Sebastian were too busy kissing, you two didn't hear someone crawling through the vents.

“Um? What the fuck!? Do that somewhere else other than in the shop man.” 

You pulled away immediately, Sebastian was irritated by the person's comment and their rudeness.

Sebastian whacked the poor inmate back through the vent with his tail. The inmate was thrown out, and since the room on the other side had a big pothole with what seemed an endless bottom, they tragically died.

“...Sebastian…. You know what, just this once I won't scold you for doing that.” You sighed in disbelief while Sebastian had a plastered smirk on his face.

~Lilly's

[softmaki]

c/w; gn reader, he calls you doll once, choking but not really, manhandling, fwb dynamic, pent up leon, dry humping, a bit ooc so I’m sorry for that, some dirty talk, if I missed any lmk!

thinking about roommate!leon, who you’ve somehow found yourself in a fwb situation with. you’re still unsure how this situation came to be. but you don’t find yourself complaining about that when you have your roommate come home from work, all frustrated and annoyed, and knowing you’re in for an interesting ride.

his hands find purchase tightly on your hips as soon as the door slams shut behind him and he manages to find you in your shared kitchen, lazily reading the back of a box from which your snacking on. your eyes widen in surprise at his urgency, pushing the box further away from yourself and swallowing thickly.

you don’t say anything. his hips push you into the counter as his own come behind you, a huff escaping his nose as his hands knead the flesh of your hips in his hands. the edge of the countertop digs into your skin, the coolness of the granite top biting in a soothing way. your palms flatten out against the countertop, pushing yourself straight up to feel his chest against your back. your head turns to the side, and your eyes lock with his own blue ones.

you know the cloudy look in those eyes. fuck, you know what’s gonna happen.

“is this okay?” his voice is rough. he’s impatient despite being so close, and even despite his frustration he wants to be sure you’re okay with him doing this. his hands grab harshly at your hips as he rolls his hips into you involuntarily, lips rosy and bruised from how hard he’s biting at them.

“yes.” breathless. it’s always been okay if it’s him.

he doesn’t wait for anything further. his lips crash onto yours, the angle awkward as your neck strains to the side enough to make the messy kiss feel relieving. it’s urgent, animalistic, and sloppy. one of his hands disconnects from its rightful place, a meek escaping your throat shortly before he grabs your neck with the stray hand and gently squeezes. it’s not enough to cut off the flow of blood, instead he rests his hand on you as if you’d disappear if he’s not holding you tight enough.

groaning against you, his lips detach from your own. that earns a disappointment whine from you, though your caught off guard as the hand on your throat moves to rest on the back of your neck. his hand pushes your neck down to bend you over the counter. his other hand leaves your hips and finds itself grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back.

“y’don’t even know how long I’ve waited for this, doll.”

his breath is hot on the shell of your ear, and his words earn nothing less than a wanton moan out of you as his hips roll into your ass. the friction you both finally feel is what you assume heaven to be.

he’s rough and demanding. the pace of his hips only picks up the longer your held in this position. from the corner of your eye you can see his rugged face as his teeth leave marks on his lips, jaw falling open every few moments to release a quiet pant that makes you envious of the air that drinks in his sounds instead of your ears. the hand from your neck snakes down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up enough to grab at the soft skin below it instead, a guttural moan escaping his throat as his hips roll against you harsher.

“fuuuck, baby. need my cock in you now. fuckin missed this hole. can’t take it anymore, need’ya now.”

you’re tugged out of the hazy state the pleasurable friction left you in, finding yourself flipped onto your back on the counter with leon slotting himself between your legs. he doesn’t struggle with the belt in his fingers and the metal clanking of the buckle against the tiled floors reverberates in the kitchen.

your mouth salivates, hands rushing down to remove your own trousers.

a/n; long time no see! i’m so sorry for the year long hiatus. if it was a crime to be erratic in posting i’d be in for life. this is super rushed and not checked, so if there’s any spelling errors lmk! i’ve been super starved of fic ideas or anything of the sort and feel like my writings not up to par. feel free to suggest anything I could work with, and if I disappear for another year or so please don’t hold it against me 😭🙏

[biting-miguel-ohara]

Plaid Flannel Shirt - Logan Howlett x ftm!Reader

A/N: I drew a lot from my own struggles with dysphoria for this, which is why it’s a little more specific than my other fics. I hope it’s still relatable. Let me know if I missed any warnings

Written for this request

CW: clothing issues; Reader is implied to be smaller than Logan; gender euphoria mentions; clothes stealing/sharing; cuddling; Logan smokes cigars in this; Reader is called handsome several times; language; praise kink; explicit sexual content; smut; grinding; Reader’s parts are referred to as dick and hole; dirty talk; mentioned mirror sex; manhandling; mentioned multiple rounds; mentioned nudity; maybe ooc Logan

673 words

It starts and ends with a shirt. One of Logan’s, to be exact.

You’ve always had an issue with clothes. They’re too tight, or too feminine, or too expensive. It’s always something with clothes.

So when you first steal the shirt from Logan’s closet, it’s a bit of a deal. Until you put it on.

Standing there, in front of the mirror, gazing at yourself in Logan’s shirt, you look a bit silly. Silly, but not feminine.

It’s something about the drape of the shirt. The particular shadows of the fabric. Something about the shirt. But it’s perfect.

You look like a guy. You are one, you know this. But you finally look like one.

That’s how the whole shirt stealing starts.

Logan seems to find it cute. At the very least, he doesn’t stop you. In fact, you’re pretty sure he’s left his room open on multiple occasions right during the times when you stop by to steal his shirts.

Whatever his reasoning is, he seems content with what you’re doing.

So when he asks about your reason for doing it one day, you don’t think anything of it.

The two of you are cuddling in his room. Door shut, window open so he can smoke in peace. He’s on his second cigar and you’re all content and happy.

“You like wearing my shirts, huh?” He plucks at the fabric of the plaid flannel you’re wearing. It’s his, of course.

“Mhmm.” You don’t open your eyes, head resting on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, low and steady.

“Any particular reason why?”

“They make me feel good,” you mumble. “Like a man. All rugged and fierce.”

He chuckles quietly. “They make you feel like a man?”

“Mhmm.”

He hums thoughtfully. “You look good in them. Handsome and shit.”

Your face heats up. Sure, he’s complimented you before, but he’s never directly called you handsome.

You lift your head, resting your chin on his chest. “Say it again?”

“Say what again?” He glances down at you, taking a hit from his cigar.

“That I’m handsome.”

He studies you for a moment, then smirks. He leans closer. “You’re the handsomest goddamn man I’ve ever met.”

It goes straight to your dick, sending heat flooding throughout your body. Like a shot of pure lust.

“Again?” Your voice comes out raspy.

He chuckles and stubs out his cigar. He pulls you up, kissing you firmly on the lips as he guides you on top of him.

“My handsome. Fucking. Man.” He punctuates his words with kisses, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Thought I was dreaming when I first saw you. So sexy and fine as hell.”

You moan into his mouth, shifting to grind against his hardening cock. You’re ridiculously wet, just from his words.

He nips at your lower lip, thrusting up against you as well. “And then you, fuck, go walking around in my shirts. Making me go wild. Can’t tell you how many times I had to excuse myself ‘cause you looked so goddamn hot.”

You smother him in kisses, sliding your hands into his hair. You lick into his mouth, tracing his teeth with your tongue as you practically hump his dick. “Logan…!”

“I got you, handsome.” He groans back, rocking up into you. “Gonna fuck you so good after this. Stuff that delicious fucking hole of yours so full you can’t breathe. Maybe even do it in front of the mirror, so you can see how fucking handsome you really are.”

It’s enough to send you toppling over the edge, and oh do you cum hard. You fist your hands in his hair, crying out his name as white hot pleasure seeps into your bones.

Logan gives you one moment before pulling you up into his arms. To manhandle you into place so he can fuck you like he wants. He makes good on his promises, fucking you twice on the bed and once in front of the mirror.

The only piece of clothing you have on? His plaid flannel shirt.

[jsuli]

avatar!jake sully x human!reader smut

this is my first time writing smut. ever. so its probs horse shit <3

afab reader, stomach bulge, size difference, horny reader, slightly ooc jake, praise.

this is the drunk smut i was talking abt <3 i tried to give reader an actual personality because i am sick to fucking death reading brain dead husks :]

☆

Jakes left hand holds your hips in a bruising grip while his right practically rip off his sweatpants, lining up his thick cock with your cunt.

You hadn't exactly planned to fuck Jake Sully when he visited you at the lab in his na'vi form, but you could not resist his small waist and sinfully toned thighs. He had made it even harder for you, dressed in grey sweatpants and a much-too-small t-shirt which hugged his broad shoulders and ever so slightly protruding hip-bones.

When he had first clambered in through the door to the lab which was much too short for his na'vi body, you had peered up at him from your desk and waved him over. You both quickly fell into conversation like usual.

"I mean, this body is great and all, but I dont think I'll ever get used to ducking under doorways" he grumbled as he looked up at you through thick, black lashes.

"I like it. you're like every girls monster-fucking fetish come true"

He barked out a laugh at your crewd words. One of the reasons you two had made fast friends was because of your lewd humour.

"Oh, so you'd fuck me like this?" he questioned playfully, a teasing sparkle in his big puppy-dog eyes.

"Absolutely. ten outta' ten. would fuck". You eyed him up while you spoke. You where teasing him back, but you couldn't help but wonder what fucking him would be like...

Was it big? Could you even take him?

Tuning out what he was currently saying, you thought about him stretching you out with what you assumed to be a big, blue juicy dick. You thought about the stomach bulge that would probably form, not realising your name was being called.

A big blue hand waved itself infront of your face.

"You still with me? mesmerised by my exotic beauty?" his head shook playfully as he looked down at you, shifting to sit back fully which gave him even more height over you.

Without even realising you where speaking out loud you asked, "Do you even have a dick?"

There was a pregnant pause before he looked at you, unbelieving of what you had just asked. "Arent you literally a scientist that specialises in all things Pandora?"

"Actually, I only specialise in plants and animals. So, do you have a dick? yes or no"

"For fucks sake, of course I have a dick" Jake sighed while running his hand down his face, exasperated by your question.

"Was just doing some research before I stake my claim"

"stake your claim? wha-" Jake was cut off by you pouncing forward and grabbing him by the shirt, smashing your lips into his.

And thats how you ended up on your back, papers and expensive equipment swiped onto the ground. Jake stood between your spread legs while lining himself up to your needy hole.

You huffed in and out as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, teasing you.

"If you dont put your dick in me right now I am going to scream" you glared up at him. His familiar cheeky grin graced his face. "You'll be screaming either way, babes"

Right before you went to complain again, his grip on your hips became tighter and he began to ease himself in to you. Your breath caught in your throat as he slowly began stretching you.

His lust-filled hooded eyes peered down at you while his voice deepened. "you're taking me so well baby, fuck! just like that"

The stretch of his girthy cock burned but it was worth it to see Jakes jaw wide open and his eyes squeezed shut. You had never been so turned on in your life, the size difference making you all the more needy. His hand wrapped around your entire waist.

Finally sinking into you fully, he leaned down to you and buried his face in your neck. The new found closeness allowed you to hear his breathy whimpers which made you drip even more.

"Please fuck me Jake, jesus I'll do anything, just fuck me please" you hissed out.

Hearing your cries of need, he began an agonisingly slow pace, pulling all the way out and back in. you moaned like a whore straight out of a porno, self control be damned, especially when you had a thirteen-inch prick drilling you.

The bulge of his cock protruded out of your lower stomach, creating a shadow.

"Jesus christ your so fucking tight! look at that big bulge baby, yeah thats me, 'feel good sweetheart?" he smoothed his hand over your stomach and pushed down, making you release a squeal.

"yeah, feels really fucking good Jake" you rutted against him as you moaned out.

His arms slithered to fully embrace you while he started pummeling your cunt. You cant begin to imagine what someone would think if they where to walk in on you two in such a lewd embrace. Jake fucking into you while standing, your legs on either side of him with curled toes and his spasming tail made quite the scene.

His thrusts became erractic and shallow as he nipped at your neck. His deep, cat-like purs vibrated against the skin of your neck while he gripped onto you for dear life.

"your fat cock feels soooo good jake, god please, I cant take it, 'feels too good" you slurred, drool falling down the side of your face while you almost sobbed from pleasure.

"you're such a good fuck, cute little pussy gripping me, im gonna cum, can I cum in you babygirl?" Jake groaned out while slamming balls-deep into you. You couldnt speak from how good you felt but your shaky nod assured him.

His hand rubbed circles on your clit as he felt you tighten even more around him. His thrusts began to stutter as his balls tightened and he shot his big, thick load into you. The full, warm feeling triggered your own orgasm. You let out a shriek as your vision went white, pure ecstasy pulsing through every nerve in your body. After riding out the waves of his own orgasm, Jake slumps down ontop of you, purring into your neck while his tail whips around. You pant for a few seconds before asking, " 'ye think you could go again?"

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

Summary ➳ Daryl allows himself to become vulnerable with you.

(A/n) ➳ This is my first take for writing S2 Daryl, feedback is definitely appreciated and needed!! I just started S3 but already know about spoilers so it’s cool! Also, thanks to @celtic-crossbow for the tips!!

Word Count ➳ 790

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, Season 2 Daryl/OOC Daryl, sexual content, penetration, unprotected sex, riding, foreplay but no prep, Angst?-to-fluff… Let me know if I missed anything!

You could always tell how Daryl was feeling by his eyes. How they shifted around the room whenever he felt annoyed or tense, how his eyes slightly relaxed when he was doing something he enjoyed. He wasn’t an open book, he was a closed person and a person who was difficult to understand.

But under his usual demeanor, he could be vulnerable if he’s given the chance. But that’s a blue moon, a rarity. You’d never ask him for more, Daryl is enough in your eyes.

Daryl had you pushed against the tree trunk, his crossbow on the ground, resting next to your gun. His hands slipped under your shirt, unclipping your bra to take it and your shirt off. Your hands remain on his shoulders, avoiding his back and spots that you know he doesn’t like you touching.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his waist. The two of you continued to kiss as he carefully laid you down on the cold grass. Daryl pulled back only to unbutton your pants, desperately ripping them off along with your underwear.

He hovered over you, you could see that familiar look in his eyes… His vulnerability. You could see him swallow in nervousness.

He stood to his feet, his hands reaching for the edges of his shirt, and stripped himself, one by one. Articles of clothing fell to the floor. He watched you closely for a reaction. For the slightest signs of disgust or discomfort.

But he didn’t see it. You had yourself propped up on your elbows, you watched him with adoration. His face didn’t show how anxious he felt. He looked composed.

Once Daryl finished, he stood in front of you, completely nude. He could feel your eyes on him.

You stretched out your hand for him to take. With a smile and your eyes watering. “Come here.” You uttered.

Daryl took your hand, squeezing it as he came down back to you. He kissed you again, and your other hand found his hair, giving it light tugs.

His other hand grabbed his cock, guiding himself to your hole. He gave himself a few seconds before he pushed himself in bit by bit.

Your eyes tightly shut as your mouth opened, letting out an airy moan. Once he was completely in, Daryl thrust, keeping himself at the perfect pace. Not too hard or fast.

You felt full, biting back moans as you felt him moving inside of you. He stared down at you, clouded and intoxicating he was to look at.

You threw your head back, your other hand moving from his hair and to his shoulders, nearly touching his back. But you weren’t going to push. Not ever.

He kept a tight grip on your hand, refusing to let go. Even when you managed to roll on top of him, he lay flat on the ground. His free hand gripped your hip tightly so that you were sure that he would leave a bruise.

Daryl breathed heavily as he felt you rocking your hips back and forth, you honestly tried to be quiet. But with his cock kept hitting your spot, it was difficult to do so. You were drunk on the feeling since it felt so different than before.

It was usually a quick and hard fuck with Daryl but he took care of you after. But he seemed to be taking his time with you, savoring the feeling as well.

The feeling of your cunt was almost hard to believe, you squeezed around him.

He sat up, kissing you once more. You didn’t stop bouncing on his cock, you quickened your pace as you felt the feeling pool in your stomach.

Daryl could feel it too, shoving his head in the crook of your neck. Even when you felt the hot liquid spill into your cunt, even when you stopped moving, Daryl didn’t stop. He quickened his pace.

His eyes remained shut as he choked on his moans. His face was flushed, as well as the tip of his ears.

Your hand tapped his shoulder. “Daryl, Daryl…” You said in between gasps and moans. “It’s alright.”

Daryl’s movements halted and he just laid his head on your shoulder. His breathing was rugged, he shook in your grasp.

“Can you look at me?” You panted.

He lifted his head, his lips slightly parted. There was no need to say anything, you pressed his forehead against his.

“It doesn’t matter where I am, I’ll always be with you.”

Daryl made a vow, he was going to do everything to keep you protected. If his hold on your hand couldn’t get any tighter, it would. And refuses to ever let you go.

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

…Feedback, please. I’m seriously begging you all.

[selfindulgentpixies]

A drop of you on my tongue

MDNI i will block on sight

Heeey I'm alive and writing again! So i'm here with an Aventurine x GN!reader fic! And it's well a lactation kink fic. Been having terrible writer's block but @yinyuedijun pulled me out of it very unexpectedly this morning. I'm in love with how they write Aven but it was anon they got that sent me down this rabbit hole. I've always liked lactation kink but i don't think i've written it on this blog before.

Cw: Reader is Afab but GN! using they/them pronouns. (since non-binary and transmasc people such as myself are indeed able to get pregnant) Reader is somewhere between the end of their first trimester and beginning of their second (it is indeed possible to start lactating that early.) Aventurine is implied to have been away for a bit but I don't elaborate on the reasons. Also i am a fuckin sap so i hope Aven isn't too ooc for you guys. During the fic he get's called Aven and Vasha at different moments. Please be kind since I just punched through a writers block with this.

Word count: 1600+

It’s not intentional on either of your parts if you’re being honest. There was just a need for eachother, a need for intimacy after time spent apart. It didn’t matter to him that you were pregnant with his child already, or perhaps it was even more reason for him to want to touch you. To reacquaint himself with your body after his absence.

Aventurine helps free you from your shirt, exposing parts of you both familiar and new to him causing you to glance away. There’s of course a new swell to  both your chest and and stomach, stretch marks that hadn’t been there previously and an added softness beginning to settle in about you.

“Hey now,”  his voice is almost achingly gentle just like the fingers he places on your jaw so he can turn your face toward him. “You’re not getting shy on me now are you?” and oh, the look in his eyes isn’t one you’re familiar with. There’s both softness and awe in his gaze and it makes you feel far more bare before him than any lack of clothing ever could. 

“Would it be so strange if I was?” 

He hums and leans in to kiss you while the hand that had been on your cheek skims down your neck and down to the tender swell of one your breasts.  “Hmm perhaps not but I can show you that you don’t need to be.”  And his lips are moving against yours, his free hand coming up to cup the back your neck so you don’t pull away. All it takes is a gentle squeeze to your breast and you gasp, opening your mouth and allowing him to slip his tongue in to greet your own. He’s pushing you back to lay against soft pillows when you whine into him, your back arching and that’s when he feels it. A warm and wet sensation rolling between his fingers and down the back of his hand.

He pulls back, surprised and holds up his hand to look at it. Twisting his wrist as the warm pearl of white rolls down. Heat rises in your cheeks and you begin to turn toward your bedside to reach for tissues. “Shit. I’m sorry, Aven, they just started doing that, i didn’t think-”

“Considering the places i’ve put my tongue on you before,” You glance toward him, catch his fascinated gaze as it follows the droplets curling down his wrist and watch as a flash of pink darts out and he licks up the back of his hand and to the space space between his fingers where your milk had first squeezed out, “do you really think this would bother me?” His eyes fall shut. It’s warm of course but also so much sweeter than he would have thought it would be. “Fuck.. And here I thought your cunt was sweet.” 

It’s obscene. It shouldn’t turn you on and yet you feel heat curling low within you at the sight. You’re so lost in this thought that you don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, his lips brushing your own and his tongue pressing the taste of you into your own mouth. He was right, it is sweet. “Will you let me have more?” The heated words are spoken directly into your mouth, while his hands make their way to your hips to give a reassuring squeeze.

You’ve always been terrible at denying Aventurine things. Taking any opportunity you can to give him whatever you can given everything he’s given you. Not just the material things but the less tangible. Smooth and syrupy words coaxing you to let him in, dropping the walls you’d kept up around your tender heart in a way you’d let so few in. Let him see your scar tissue in hopes that he’d show you his own. This is no different. Especially not when it’s proof of just another thing he’s given you. Something you were giving each other that neither of you had dared hope to have again. 

Still speaking against each others lips. “...alright if it’s something you’re sure you want.”

You feel and then see him smirk as he pulls back, eyes sparkling with something mischievous. “Of course it is.” He gives your hips another squeeze and tugs at you. “Here, switch places with me.” 

You tip your head quizzically but do as he asks so he can sit back against the plush pillows before encouraging you to sit on his lap. 

“There you go.” He runs nose along your jaw before kissing down your neck. “Arch your back a little bit for me.” And you do, pressing your chest that little bit up toward him so he can more easily dip his head down. He cups one of your breasts and licks at the bead of milk that’s collected on your nipple before coaxing it into his mouth using his tongue. An appreciative groan rumbles up his chest, vibrating through your sensitive flesh. It’s different from the other times he’s played with your body. You’re so much more sensitive, almost too sensitive, a whimpered moan falling past your lips as you press your chest further against him. There's a sensation you’d almost describe as a pull as his skilled tongue gently works you, figuring out how to best draw milk from you. You feel it when he gets it, gets your sweet essence  beginning to pool on his tongue for him to drink down. 

You nearly miss it when he begins to rut against your thinly clothed cunt. His free arm wraps around the small of your back pulling you tight to him, the slight swell of your belly pressing against the toned planes of his own. You whine beginning to grind against him in turn. He moans something incoherent against your skin.

Your hands move seemingly of their own accord to gently run through his hair, smoothing it back from his face as you look down at him. His eyes are half lidded, dazed even. “That good, ‘vasha?” The affectionate and rarely used abbreviation of his true name dripping from your lips like warm honey. 

 “S’good” he mumbles against you followed by him bucking his hips and whining against your soft skin. A resounding yes if you ever heard one. You moan and it trails into a breathy laugh as the two of you continue to rut together. Evidence of your own pleasure soaking through the cloth of your sleepshorts and through the fabric of his own slacks. Pity that they’ll probably be ruined, not that either of you actually cared. 

With a moan he pops off your nipple, “Think I can make you cum just like this?” he asks before adjusting his hold so he can move to your other breast, pulling the sensitive bud into his mouth before you can actually answer. 

“Ha-ah- careful that one’s more sore-” and he is careful, gentle with you, but he doesn’t stop. He’s lost to you, seemingly eager to drown in everything you give him. A mix of pleasure from the eager grind of your bodies and the sweet taste of you filling his mouth. 

Any soreness is forgotten as it blurs into pleasure once he pulls your hips down more firmly against him. Rutting his clothed cock into the thin and soaked fabric separating the two of you. It’s with a well timed push that catches against your clothed clit and particularly hard suck that your body goes taunt, your breast smothering Aventurine as your release truly soaks you both. Your world goes blank.

You’re so gone to the world that you don’t even register that Aventurine has also cum in his own pants. Shuddering with you before releasing your nipple and panting as he carefully rolls the two of you so you’re laying down while he hovers above you. It’s when his thumb rubs beneath your eye that you blink back into focus. He’s beautiful and disheveled. A bit of milk clings to the corner of his shiny and slightly swollen lips.  And oh, you almost want to look away because his eyes are full of so much adoration and it’s all focused on you.

His lips move and your name reaches you, almost sounding as if he’s said it more than once now. “-are you alright?” The inquiry is accompanied by him brushing hair away from your temple while he sits beside you. 

“Sorry- I i’m okay. More than okay.” 

He smiles, relief making his shoulders sag just a bit. “Good, you had me worried for a moment there.” Amusement shines in his eyes. “Now as much as I’d like to just lay here with you, how about we clean ourselves up first.” He gestures toward the lower halves of your bodies with a grimace. Both of you were an absolute mess after all of that.  

You whine not actually wanting to get up but knowing the growing awareness of your own discomfort would make it impossible to just roll back over. In the time it takes you to start getting up Aventurine is around to your side of the bed ready to help you up. “You know i’m not so far along that I need help getting out of bed.”

He hums in acknowledgement. “Yes but how about you just let me help, to make up for my time away.” 

He doesn’t comment on the little eyeroll as you take his hands. “Fine fine… Let me guess you’re gonna help me shower too?”

“Now you’re getting it~” he practically chirps at you before pulling you up and beginning to walk you toward the attached bathroom. “And once we’re all cleaned up and cozy in bed maybe you’ll let me have another taste of you.” He noses at your hair. 

“You’re terrible you know that right?”

“You’re figuring that out a little late, don’t you think?” 

It’s a strange way to say ‘I love you.’ yet you both know that’s what fills those words as you both share a small smile

And there you have it. My writer's block broken by lactation kink. Special thanks to @yinyuedijun for inspiring this, i really hope you enjoy it. Also special thanks to @080325 and @fushigurro for proof reading for me

Divider credit it @threnodians

Tag list: @pastelle-rabbit @zorosdimples @strawberrystepmom @whispers-of-lilith

I'm actually not that sure who wants to be tagged in this one

[sugudollz]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Kento fucking his pretty little assistant <3

MDNI!! Probably ooc. Sir kink. Dumbification. He bends you over his desk. He’s kind of mean. He pulls on your hair. He refers to you as “princess” n “baby”. He calls you “slutty” like once. “Good girl “ x1. Wrote at 5 AM, not proofread.

“F-fuck—! S-Sir!” You whine as Kento bullys his fat cock into your tight cunt, his groans and grunts of pleasure leaving his lips while sweat drips down his chin, eyebrows furrowed.

He’s got you bent over his desk, your tits pressed against the hard material, skirt thrown over your waist and your hair is a mess. As Kento pushes his hips back and forth so your warm walls can embrace his thick dick, his heavy balls slap against your ass, the harsh skin to skin contact sounding throughout the room.

“Read to me my schedule again, Princess,” Kento’s voice is deep and husky when he demands this of you. Shakily, your hands reach for the papers that have been carelessly pushed to the side of his desk before guiding them to your eyes.

“Y-you have a—board meeting wi-with the—ah!” You can’t help but moan as the tip of Kento’s pretty dick repeatedly hits the spongy spot inside of you, drawing moan after moan from you and your eyes roll back.

Kento chuckles breathily as he shakes his head before grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up so he can look at you from the side.

“What? Is my assistant too fucked out to say anything? Dick’s so good, you went dumb?” Kento taunts, faux sympathy in his voice as a mock pout plays on his lips. “Poor fucking baby, huh?” He emphasizes the curse with a particularly rough thrust of his hips before letting go of your hair, causing drool to slip out from your lips down your chin, and you whimper.

“Sir, please! Ngh—!” Throwing your head forward to land on your forearm, cries of pleasure falling from your mouth again and again. Feeling his hips stutter, Kento pulls out quickly, cursing under his breath and making your eyes widen as you whine from the sudden emptiness.

Before you get the chance to complain, Kento places his hand over your mouth, immediately shutting you up. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling and frustration.

“Shh, baby, stay fuckin’ quiet f’me, okay?” Kento whispers in your ear with a somewhat harsh tone, but you nod your head anyways as you allow your tears to leak from your eyes and make their way to Kento’s big, veiny hands.

After stroking his cock in a rush, Kento shoves his dick back into your needy cunt and picking up his earth shattering pace. Not even five seconds pass before you’re clawing at his desk, your ass jiggling from the raw strength of his mouth watering thrusts, a drunken smile embracing your lips as drool spills from your mouth.

“My baby is so stupid on my cock, hm? Can only cry and whine now, isn’t that fucking right?” Kento’s real mean with his words and his hips, but it gives you a profound sense of otherworldly pleasure, so much so that your pussy is clenching all around his thick cock and your stomach begins feeling tight.

“Sir…!” Your nails now create crescent shaped marks on Kento’s desk, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough that your teeth will draw blood, back arching and legs spreading. “F-fuck—! Gonna cum, Sir, gonna cum!” You’re pouting as you look back at Kento, whose brows are furrowed from the force he’s putting into his hips.

“Shit, me too,” he says, “cum f’me, sweet thing, and lemme cum in this princess pussy of yours,”

“Yes, yes, yes, please! Cum in me, please, Sir! Fill me up with your cum!” Your begging is just so fucking adorable, he could never even dream of rejecting it, so he fucks his duck into your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and it’s so ground shatteringly amazing, it brings you to your finish quicker than expected, as with him.

Your pussy is creaming all over his pretty cock while your vision goes white yet blurry, and Kento his loading his heavy finish into your sopping hole as he pants like a dog. His eyes are watching your fucked out face, your pretty reactions satisfying him beyond belief.

By the end of it, you’re feeling so full of his thick cum and when Kento pulls out, you can feel it leaking out of you, his beautiful eyes eyeing the way his load spills out of your messy cunt intensely.

“Such a good girl, huh?” Kento teases before pulling your neglected panties back up and fixing your skirt so it covers almost all of your thighs again. “I didn’t know my assistant was so slutty.” He’s joking for the most part, of course—hinted by the breathy chuckle that escapes his throat.

You’re so fucked out, though, you can’t even process his words… not that he minds, anyway; he’ll gladly fuck his pretty assistant dumb over and over again, with no hesitation.

© 2023 sugudollz only on Tumblr — do not copy, repost, translate, or steal.

[queer-n-here]

HEY

ITS THE ANON THAT ASKED FOR FYODOR X MUSCULAR READER

ERMMMM

IF ITS OKAY CAN I HAVE THAT NOW BUT SMUT

PLEASE

( im not desperate i promise )

-🦅 ( eagle emoji anon cs rahh america )

Yeah brotha, ofc!

Also, welcome to the anon fam. Here we go, Fyodor smut. (And guess what? I'm writing this in my mom's school so like... pray that I don't caught)

Also, I'm gonna do your Kunikida req, too, just gimme like a day or two, yeah? Hope you like it, even though it kinda got OOC.

Contents: You walk in on Fyodor fingering himself to the thought of you, and then you fuck the poor anemic man.

Warnings: Smut, top male reader, nipple play, OOC Fyodor.

Fyodor was almost ready to get on his knees and beg.

It was probably the first time in his entire life that he'd ever been so desperate.

It had all started that one day when you'd picked him up for the first time, and ever since then his skull could only contain one thought: you. Any and all attempts at a distraction were futile. After trying for weeks, Fyodor gave up on them.

His only solace was the handful of hours when he'd be asleep. Lately, however, you'd started haunting his dreams, too, plaguing them with thoughts and images of you that grew filthier and filthier each time. Gods, what were you doing to him? And how were you doing it? Was this a part of your ability? To hypnotize someone and make them lose control of their senses?

Even know, rutting pitifully against the pile of blankets in your room, Fyodor's glazed eyes could see you. Your huge form, towering over his own. Your ginormous hands tracing his skin, gripping his waist and rubbing his nipples.

His naked chest came in contact with the bed sheets, and he threw his head and moaned, pathetic dick rubbing back and forth against the soon to be stained sheets.

But it wasn't enough. It wasn't even nearly enough.

Fyodor licked his fingers slick, then reached back to insert the first one into his achingly empty hole, trying to convince himself that it was your finger his hole was fluttering around. He shut his eyes, seeing you against the back of his eyelids instead.

Pre-cum dribbled down his shaft as his shoulders shook, his free hand clenching desperately at the sheets. Gasps and moans spilled from his red and bitten lips, and all of a sudden his fingers hit a certain spot.

Fyodor's back arched, a particularly loud moan leaving his mouth. He slipped in a second finger, hand moving faster now. He bit down on the sheets beneath his head, muffling his cries against the fabric as he found himself tipping over the edge soon. As his cum hit the sheets, so did his body. His poor anemic body couldn't hold for any longer.

He rolled over onto his back instead, dazed eyes opening slowly, and taking a moment to process what they were seeing.

You.

For a moment Fyodor almost believed that he had now gone insane. But it was too real to be an illusion, you were too real.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to grab the sheets beneath him and try to cover himself with them. You were faster, though, ripping the sheets out of his grasp and letting them fall onto the floor.

This was going to be fun.

Not that you had expected to see Fyodor like this when you opened the door of his room. I mean, sure, maybe you could blame that on your habit of not knocking, or maybe even his of not locking his door. But you were glad you two did that, how else would you have ended up in his room, smirk growing on your face as you took in his condition.

Fyodor was still trying to reach for the sheets, but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head, making him fall onto the bed on his back with a huff.

"Fyodor," Your eyes had an unusual darkness to them, one that set the alarms blaring in his head. "What were you doing?"

Fyodor tried to struggle out of your grasp, his weak body fighting against yours to no avail as a deep red blush rose through his flesh. "...It's none of your business!"

"Isn't it?" You tilted your head, face inches away from his. "You said my name."

Fyodor froze. "W-what?"

"You called for me," You repeated. "And you were loud, too. I thought you were hurt somewhere."

His pale skin reddened further, and he turned to look away from your blazing eyes, but you grabbed his chin and made him look at you.

"Were you thinking about me?" The smirk had returned to your face, and your eyes were hungrily roaming over Fyodor's body. "You were fucking your hole with your fingers like a little bitch in heat; were you pretending they were mine?"

Fyodor's breath hitched. Being caught like this before he had even come down from his previous high was intimidating, but also strangely arousing. He let you loom over him, your huge body almost completely hiding his against the bed.

"Answer me, Fyodor," You said.

And he couldn't do anything but nod, cheeks flaming. You leaned forwards and kissed him, smiling slightly. He gasped again, surprised, eyes wide and hands falling limp in your hold. You let them go, placing your hands on his waist instead as you pressed him into the bed, tongue invading his mouth.

"W-what are you doing?" Fyodor pulled away just long enough to ask.

"Hmm," You hummed against his lips, pulling back and sitting on the bed to take of your clothes. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Fyodor's breath hitched, his skinny body shifting against yours. You finished stripping, leaning down to kiss him full on the lips again, this time more passionate. He fisted his hands in your shirt, pulling you closer weakly.

You sighed softly, reaching forward to trace the curve of his neck, the dip of his collarbone. Pulling away, you lowered your head to kiss there instead, leaving marks in the wake of your fingertips. Fyodor moaned, screwing his eyes shut against the feeling of your lips on his skin.

"[Name]," He panted, biting his lips to stop himself from moaning too loud.

"Hmm?" You pulled away from his collarbone, raising your head to look at him. "What do you want me to do, baby?"

Fyodor's eyes widened slightly at the pet name, but he wrapped his arms around your neck all the same. "Please, fuck me..."

And who were you to deny him?

He'd prepped himself just fine, and, aligning your tip with his leaking hole, you were able to slide in your member relatively easily. You started slow, thrusting into him gently at first, trying to give him time to adjust himself.

"[Name]." Fyodor moaned, brows furrowed. "Nggh, f-faster, please!"

You obliged him, speeding up considerably as you lifted his legs, wrapping them around your waist before placing your hands on either side of his head. Fyodor was clenching around you with each thrust, each nudge of your tip against his soft and tight walls making his toes curl.

Your hips snapped against his, and his back arched, thrusting his nipples up into your face. You kissed them readily, licking and biting and teasing to your heart's content as the man beneath you squirmed and panted and moaned.

"Fyodor," You said, teeth gritted against the feeling of Fyodor around you. "Does it feel good, hmm? Tell me, d'you like it when I fuck you like this?"

Fyodor's eyes were blurred up with tears, his eyes blown out and wide, making him look like he wouldn't be able to process anything but your cock in his ass for the life of him. Still, he nodded frantically. "S-so good, hah! Mmph, [Name]! Feels so... so good..."

You rolled your hips, pounding into him with a rhythm so heavenly, it had Fyodor seeing stars. One thrust in particular hit somewhere so soft inside him, he cried out, and you shifted to hit that spot again. His grip on your shoulders tightened, head falling back to expose his beautiful neck.

You leaned down to kiss it, rolling your hips and bullying his prostrate. His nails were burying into your skin, moans growing louder and louder by the minuted in a way that told you he was close.

And sure enough, pretty soon Fyodor was trying to speak through his lewd noises. You understood his meaning even when his words were barely coherent. Speeding up, you bit his shoulder, making him cry out in a mixture of pain of pleasure so intense all other thoughts were wiped out from his brain.

He reached his orgasm, hips bucking up into yours as a cry ripped itself free from his throat. You slowed down to a stop even as your cock throbbed at the feeling of Fyodor clenching around you so tight it almost made you lose control.

He huffed and panted beneath you, using one hand to cover his face. You gently pried it away, planting a kiss on his forehead. You waited for him to come down from his high, peppering kisses on his face softly.

He raised a hand to place on your chest to stop you, giggling softly. "You..." He hesitated slightly. "You haven't finished yet, right?"

You had been ignoring your throbbing dick for a while now, trying to remain still despite the desire building in your gut.

You shook your head.

Fyodor flushed slightly. His arms had fallen limply onto the bed when he'd came, and now they rose to wrap themselves around your neck again.

"Go on, then. You can... do it till you cum."

And being as restless as you were, you immediately began moving again.

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE

You're the queen of the superficial, And how long before you tell the truth?

sum: being a physical therapist assistant wasn’t easy work at all, and it didn’t help that one of your patients was beginning to plague your thoughts, in more ways than one.

PURE COINCIDENCE . camboy & martial artist! kashimo hajime x physical therapist assistant! reader

cw: strangers to lovers (lowkey), kashimo & reader are 19-21, kashimo is ooc of course, modern au (no cursed techniques but he’s still strong asf), sex work, pet names, teasing, degradation & praise, shy!reader, curvy reader, kashimo is an ass man, lowkey corruption kink, slightly public sex, kashimo is reckless & dumb, dumbification, manhandling, rough sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, choking, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, etc.

i spent so much time on this & was winging it fr so it didn’t come out how i liked 😭😭. & it got much longer then i wanted it to be. also please excuse any typos or errors, it’s late 🙏🏾

You always thought boxing, wrestling, and martial arts were such violent sports. You didn’t see the appeal of beating someone black and blue— or forcing them into submission. You weren’t a pacifist by any means but fighting was just something you didn’t get it. Especially, when it came to making money off it.

Truthfully, however— you didn’t need to see the point. Your only concern was massaging your patients and assuring they didn’t overextend themselves.

Which happened often.

Today would be a good day for you, a starting point actually. After two years of grueling work, several months of training, and being placed in a hospital you hated; you were finally sought out by a private practice— a gym for martial artists. From what you’ve heard they were good; winning tournaments back to back and putting on quite a show for the audience.

A name that frequently showed up was Kashimo Hajime, the proclaimed God of Lightning. A title earned given how fast he was, no one able to keep up with the amount of punches that he landed on his opponent. You were sure that was impressive in its own right, but you simply couldn’t get past the name.

It made you giggle each time you heard it.

Your eyes trailed away from the building infront of you and over to your phone hooked up to the stand in your car. You pressed your lips together, “Looks like I’m here..” You mumbled to yourself, feeling anxiety gather at the pit of your stomach. A new job always did that to you, imagining just about everything going wrong. From possibly falling or messing up a chart.

First day jitters always killed your motivation.

But, you took a small breath; eyes closed briefly as you sinked into your seat for a moment. It would be fine, this would be fine. You’re gonna do great. Such affirmations swarmed in your mind, pushing you away from delving down a deep hole of anxiety and insecurity. Once you felt your heart relax just a bit you grabbed your phone and tote bag, turning the car off and soon exiting it. Shutting the door behind you, you assured the doors were locked before approaching the large metal doors of the building. Pulling them open, your eyes scanned the large area. It looked like a relatively regular gym; punching bags hanging from the ceiling in a few places, weights, and treadmills. The most interesting thing was the boxing ring in the middle of the room.

“Hello, miss? Can I help you?” You jumped a little as the voice interrupted your train of thought, turning to face a woman who was seated behind the front desk. You flashed a false confident smile, approaching her while shifting through your bag. “H—hi, I’m [Full Name]. I’m here to start as a PTA.” Your hand finally clasped around what you needed, lifting a packet of papers from the confinements of your bag and passing them over to her awaiting hand.

Her eyes scanned the pages rather quickly, “Oh, you’ll be working with Ms. Makoto.” She mused, flashing you a small smile as she passed the papers back. “She always comes late, so for now; I’d suggest walking around to get a feel for your surroundings. Maybe even talk to your future patients.” She shrugged to which you nodded, a small thank you, escaping you.

You wish she hadn’t suggested the thing at all, given how nerve-racking it felt to you. However, you now felt obligated to do it, especially with the way she was smiling at you so sweetly. Damn her.

Situating the strap of your bag onto your shoulder correctly, you headed over towards the actual gym area; eyes on the swivel to assure you didn’t end up in anyone’s way. Like you hoped, however, the martial artists were far too focused on their training, paying you no mind as their fists slammed against some punch bag or they pumped their legs on the treadmill.

The atmosphere itself was nice, really. You didn’t mind it, maybe you would get used to it.

Once you were finished walking around the people lifting weights, your eyes traveled over to the boxing ring in the middle, noticing two forms entering it and several people surrounding it. Interest quickly invaded your mind, moving towards the crowd to get a better look. You luckily found your way to the front, staring up at the two men that were currently stretching.

One was unimpressionable; hair shaved short with tanned skin. He was shirtless showcasing his simple build. He wasn’t small but wasn’t big either, sculpted but not bulky? It was clear he wasn’t a seasoned fighter. But, as your eyes turned over to his opponent; the difference was all too clear.

Standing at an impressive six feet, cloaked in a tight black shirt and baggy white pants, bandages wrapped around his forearms. You watched as he cupped his hands together behind his back, stretching his arms and fuck, were they big. Or rather the man was big in general, enough so you pitied his opponent.

You watched as he rose his arms above his head this time, eyes zoning in on the way his shirt followed— revealing his toned stomach and the pretty blue trail that traveled down. Oh, how you wanted to see where it lead to.

“[Name]?”

“Huh!?” You gasped out of your daze, head snapping over to a woman that stood beside you. She had short black hair that illuminated her pale features perfectly, sharp dark eyes already staring at you. Her gloss stained lips curled once she had your attention, “I’m Makoto. I’m sorry for being late.”

You gave a nervous smile, “I—I don’t mind. I was just uh.. getting to know my surroundings.” The physical therapist nodded at you with a smile, eyes turning over to the ring as a small sigh escaped her.

“I’ve told Kashimo to stop entertaining these rookies.”

“Entertaining?”

Makoto nodded with a soft hum, crossing her arms over her chest. “They always want to fight him for some reason, riling him up until he finally agrees to a spar. It’s ridiculous,” She mused, tapping a finger against her skin. “It’s clear whose going to win.”

You pressed your lips together, eyes turning back to the ring. To your surprise, Kashimo was standing upright while his opponent was in a fighting stance. Cocky.. Was what ran through your mind, eyes darting between the two men.

The man with a shaved head blew air from his mouth, springing towards Kashimo in a single step. Your eyes widened as you watched the cyan-haired man step out of the other’s way, bawling his fists. The sound of skin to skin contact was the only thing you could register, astonished by the pure speed of his fists, opponent trapped under the flurry of his hits. Makoto was right, he didn’t stand a chance; falling to the ring the moment the god of lightning was finished with him. The match couldn’t have been longer than five seconds.

“Kashimo, It was only supposed to be a spar— not a knockout!” Makoto called, softly complaining about unnecessary concussions. You watched as Kashimo’s bored expression fixed onto the physical therapist, a small snarl on his face. Makoto hissed at this, fussing at him not to glare at her.

He didn’t entertain her yelling long, eyes traveling away from her and fixing onto you. You didn’t hold his gaze long, or rather— you couldn’t, given its intensity. You simply turned to face Makoto waiting for her to get over her yelling so you could get started.

. . .

A few hours of work passed, the only major concern being Kashimo’s opponent and assuring he had no fractures or concussions from the match. Much to Makoto’s relief, he didn’t. Other than that you were observing and looking over charts, noticing the inconsistencies in Kashimo’s. Makoto then explained to you the man ignored injuries and she quite literally has to corner him to get him into her office. The mental image made you laugh softly.

Soon enough your shift was over, being informed you did well and to come at the same time tomorrow. It delighted you to hear such a thing. Exiting the building, you approached your car while searching for your keys in your bag, humming softly to yourself. Finally finding them, you pull them out; attention however, shifting over to the gym doors when they opened.

To your surprise Kashimo stepped out, holding a large duffel bag in his left hand while his right? Reached for the end of his shirt, lifting it up and using it to wipe his face. All under your gaze.

You felt ashamed staring at him in such a way, especially since he was technically your patient.

“You need somethin’, Miss [Name]?” His voice was muffled against the damp fabric, pulling his shirt down to reveal his sharp eyes starting at you. You jumped in surprise, nearly dropping your keys. “Oh, oh, no! No..” You breathed out, shakily pressing the button on them to unlock your car. To your horror the man gave you a small smirk;

“Safe travels then.”

“Mhm! You too!” The words escaped you meekly and far louder then you wished. Snatching the driver’s side door open, you entered the vehicle, barely even slamming the door closed before you turned the engine over. You quickly pulled out of that parking lot, attempting to forget the scene that just happened.

. . .

A soft sigh escaped you as you sat on your bed, leaning back to lay down, arms laying across your stomach. The sky was painted black, stars twinkling overhead with the moon rested aimlessly. It was getting late and you needed to get some sleep for tomorrow. You weren’t sure how work would be but you wanted to mentally prepare for the worst. However, you just.. didn’t want to sleep yet?

It was weird, really. You didn’t feel tired despite how nervous you were today. You almost felt proud of yourself.

“Still need to get some sleep though..” You mumbled to yourself, rolling over to your stomach. Pressing your face into your plush blankets for a moment, you mulled over how to force yourself to sleep. Milk, melatonin maybe? You don’t know if you had either. You spared two more minutes of thought before an idea entered your mind.

Masturbation. You were a genius.

You reached blindly for your phone while turning onto your back again, scooting up farther onto your bed as you opened the dreaded X app. Ignoring tweets from friends and celebrities you went straight to the search bar typing in something random. You just needed to get off once, it normally worked for you.

Using one hand to scroll, the other went down to your lower half, happy you previously discarded your pants as your fingers brushed across your thinly covered pussy. Warming yourself up, your fingers pressed against your covered clit, slowly rubbing it; feeling the gentle pleasure travel up your spine.

Fifteen minutes passed of this and your agitated scrolling, frustration building as nothing in particular caught your eye. Each video was either too short or too boring for something to use, or even some too much. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult anyhow. Just a quick session and then sleep. Yet, here you were; boredly scrolling.

You nearly settled for your imagination rather then a video until something caught your eye. Your thumb hovered over the video, eyes zoning in on it. It was simple, a male by himself, showcasing his lower half but nothing else. You saw the imprint of his dick through his sweats, strong hand gliding across it; teasing himself.

Pursing your lips, you clicked on the video, getting into a comfortable position. You watched as he delicately pulled the strings on his pants, watching the band loosen. His hips rose, hooking a thumb under the waistband to slowly tug down— not far, but far enough his length slowly came into view; popping out when his sweats rested on his thighs.

You sucked in a breath, watching his veined hand clasp around his pretty cock. He was pale, tip a soft red with precum spilling from the slit. He was also.. well, big; lengthy and thick— particularly around the base. You attempted to imagine it inside you, pussy pulsing at the thought of it splitting you open.

His thumb rolled on the crown of his length, collecting some precum before smoothing it down his shaft. To your surprise you heard a soft groan, feeling your stomach tighten from the sound. Most men on this annoying app were quiet in their videos, something you couldn’t stand. And while he wasn’t loud, it was loud enough your hand went straight under your panties, beginning to roll tight circles on your clit.

You moved in sync to how he fisted himself, his soft sighs and grunts escaping your phone’s speaker; envious you couldn’t hear such things right into your ear. You bit your lip as your legs shook, two fingers traveling down your slick slit to plunge inside you. Your hips rose, grinding your clit into your palm as your eyes focused on the man. You gasped out, watching as his pace quickened, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his hands.

His voice became ragged, pants desperate as he chased his release. And you, your own. You were so close, watching this stranger fuck himself. A pretty sight you couldn’t look away from.

“Oh, fuck..” Was what he hissed, nearly making your eyes roll back. You were there, right there, so close, until— you noticed something. Your eyes had unfortunately wandered from his cock to his stomach peeking out under his shirt, spotting something.

A soft tuft of cyan colored hair.

Your eyes widened for a moment, feeling your pleasure come crashing down as flashes of Kashimo in the ring and outside the building entered your mound. The way it lined below his navel so perfectly, it was all too familiar. “There’s no way..” You thought to yourself, attempting to rationalize it in your head. Kashimo Hajime, martial artist known as the god of lightning just didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing.

But then again, you knew nothing about him, so who were you to declare it wasn’t like him?

Such thoughts killed your lust filled high, pulling your hand out of your panties and quickly clicking out of the app. You turned on your side, phone rested face down on your blankets. Your eyes pinched close, attempting to calm your racing thoughts and think of solutions to this.

It was all pure coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe dying happy trails that particular color was some trend you didn’t hear about?

You seriously hoped it was.

. . .

Despite your many thoughts last night, you fell asleep shortly after that event. Though you did wake up and feel miserable, just imagining how nervous you’ll be facing Kashimo.

It’s probably not him.. right? You continued to try and convince yourself, closing your car door shut and beginning your trek over to the gym. Opening the doors and entering, you gave a brief smile to the receptionist that greeted you and made a beeline to Makoto’s office, reaching for the door.

Only for it to open, right in your face.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there!” The physical therapist hissed softly, watching as you soothed the pain on your forehead. You only gave a small smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention anyway.” The brief pain knocked Kashimo right from your thoughts, something you deeply appreciated and nearly thanked the reckless older woman for.

Makoto looked you over for a moment before sighing softly, nodding. “Alright, well. Set your things down. It’s not a lot to do today, but that could change.”

You gave a brief smile and nodded, entering her office. It was simple, resembling a hospital room with shelves lining the walls and a long black bed off against the wall. You placed your bag beside her own, turning around to spot Makoto at the door, talking to someone.

Moving closer you quickly realized it was Kashimo. His expression just like yesterday, bored with a snarl pointed towards the older woman— who was currently nagging, just like yesterday. You swallowed a breath, flashes of the previous night entering your mind, far too quick and vivid to ignore. It didn’t help that in the midst of her words his eyes traveled to you, causing you to still; wishing to fall through the floor right then and there.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Don’t you have someone to mentor instead of wasting your time, naggin’?” Hajime questioned, finally releasing you from his gaze to stare back at Makoto. The physical therapist’s voice rose in pitch, Hajime turning on his heel and walking off much to her annoyance..

And your relief. You hoped he was too busy training to acknowledge you today.

Two hours passed with you following Makoto around, writing down a few notes on people’s charts and even tapping some people. They were nice and encouraged you even when your hands shook a little or you stumbled over your words. You really did like this job so far.

It was the afternoon now, Makoto letting you go on a thirty minute break. You entered the lounge room of the gym, hand clasped around the black container of food you had grabbed from your bag. Approaching the microwave, you opened it open and slid the container inside— shutting the door and pressing a random time. You leaned against the counter, scrolling through your phone for a moment before an idea creeped into your mind.

Assuring no one else was in the room, you clicked onto the app you used last night, going to your previous search and beginning to scroll. It took about five minutes before you finally reached where you wanted; the video you watched last night. Taking your food from the microwave, you clicked onto the account of the video, waltzing over to a chair and sitting down.

You attempted to rationalize looking at porn — or rather a porn account at work. It’s not like you were actively watching the videos, or touching yourself; you were simply searching for something, anything that signified this wasn’t Kashimo’s account.

But, you weren’t given much. Firstly, the account’s icon and header was blank while the bio was empty too. Despite this, it had quite a few tweets and followers, highlighting this account was quite popular. You bit the inside of your cheek once again, looking around you for a moment before clicking on the media section of the page. You scrolled, leaning your cheek into your palm. Most of it was solo stuff, showcasing his lower half and never his face. Your heart thumped however; when you noticed the spiky, cyan colored hair that rested behind him in a certain video. You bit the inside of your cheek, jumping when the lounge room door opened.

To your horror, Kashimo entered— giving you a brief glance before walking over to the fridge in the room. His hand reached for something, snatching it from the fridge and rising to shut the door, moving over to the microwave. While opening the door and placing his food inside, you watched his other hand fish his phone from his sweats.

And that’s when a idea popped into your head. A very, very stupid one. Your face turned back to your phone screen, biting your lip. You were still trying to convince yourself this wasn’t him, this was just some random man you’ve never met before.

And so, if you were to like a tweet of his where— your name was completely visible, you were sure he wouldn’t react at all. Your plan seemed solid, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

Taking a shaky breath, your thumb pressed against the hollow heart of a random tweet, slowly placing your phone back onto the table. Maybe.. maybe you were imagining it but, you could have sworn you heard the soft buzz of a phone.

One that wasn’t yours.

Fear shot up your spine, head moving slowly to the side, eyes traveling to the only other person in the room.

Who was already staring at you, cradling his black cased phone.

Your eyes locked, watching as a grin pulled his features. It was him, oh it was definitely him. Your eyes widened as the realization set in, quickly turning forward to snatch your phone and food from the table, getting up on shaky legs and heading towards the door.

“Not hungry, [Name]?” His tone was mocking, far too teasing for you to ignore. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you quickly shook your head, snatching the door open and exiting the lounge.

The realization of the situation finally dawned on you as you sped over to Makoto’s office, nearly crushing your container of food in your hand.

You had found Kashimo Hajime’s twitter, his.. special twitter. And he knew, you knew it was him.

. . .

About three weeks had passed since that fateful day. You were, surprisingly— okay. The day after it happened Kashimo seemed normal, not ignoring you but focused on his training. You remained on edge for the rest of the week expecting something. Maybe a big blow out or a private conversation, but you got neither.

And if you weren’t sure if you were happy, or upset by that. Either way, three weeks went by with radio silence and you growing accustomed to your job.

It was about forty minutes until you would clock out, seated at Makoto’s desk and flipping through papers. Your eyes scanned the page, assuring each chart was up to date and nothing was out of order. Luckily no one has gotten injured majorly these last few weeks, but the necessary procedures had to be done.

You heard movement beside you, eyes drifting away from the stack for a moment to spot your boss grabbing her things and placing them into her bag. Noticing your stare, she turned with an apologetic smile— “Sorry, [Name]! My daughter needs to get picked up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded at her with a smile, glancing at the clock. You would have been nervous to be left alone, but it was only thirty minutes. And once you clocked out anyone that stayed back for training were on their own.

The door closed behind Makoto as she exited the office, your head turning to focus back on the papers. You hummed softly to yourself, pressing your cheek into your palm as you scribbled something on a page, flipping to the next.

Several minutes passed with this continuous routine, eyes finally shifting away from the work over to your phone. Five minutes until your shift was over. With that, you stood, collecting the papers into a neat stack before placing it back into its manila folder; placing that into your tote bag. You glanced around the area, assuring you weren’t leaving anything behind before grabbing your bag, pulling it onto your shoulder. Turning on your heel, you approached the door and opened it; letting out a soft startled noise.

“Oh, I was expecting Makoto..” Kashimo spoke, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual attire; a black tight shirt with white sweatpants. His dark eyes traced over your form, tilting his head at you. You attempted to ignore the way his lips twitched a bit, as if holding something back.

You quickly cleared your throat, “Did you.. uh— need her for something? She left early is all.”

Kashimo hummed softly, “No..I think you’ll do.”

“What?”

“Think you could get the kink out my arm? I must have.. punched the bag wrong.” Kashimo claimed, smiling down at you. You withtook a breath, clenching the strap of your bag tightly. He was lying, and he knew he was lying too. Kashimo Hajime, punching the bag wrong? You could almost laugh at the thought.

And that smile? Oh— it was far from genuine, far from pure. Every alarm in your head rung, warning you to refuse and leave. Yet, you didn’t listen to a single one. Your body instead turned, waltzing over to the desk and setting your things down. “You can sit on the bed. I’ll take a look at your arm.”

The words barely escaped you before the deafening sound of the door closed behind him, a soft thanks, escaping him as he sat down. You felt his eyes on your every move, watching as you approached the sink and began to wash your hands— shakily, you might add. You spent extra time there, afraid to face the man.

Soon enough, however, you grabbed a paper towel from beside you; drying your hands and turning the faucet off. Tossing the soiled towel in the trash, you turned and walked over to him. “Wh—which arm?” You questioned softly, watching as he lifted his right one. You nibbled on your cheek, gently grabbing his bicep, thumbs pressing against the muscle carefully.

“If it starts to hurt, tell me..” You murmured softly, room back to being silent. This was stupid really; you making such a show of things. You knew he wasn’t hurt, shown in the way he reacted little with each squeeze you gave him; even pressing harder to see if he would react.

Like you suspected, Kashimo didn’t react at all.

“I wonder..” You blinked as his words interrupted your jumbled thoughts, blinking over to him. He was already staring at you, a small smirk pulling his lips. One that caused your stomach to drop. One that he wore in the lounge room that day. “—when you connected the dots, when you found out it was me.. did still watch me?”

You breathed softly, releasing his arm. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.” You played at acting dumb, a useless facade he didn’t fall for at all. Instead, Kashimo chuckled softly, turning to glance away from you.

“Oh, don’t play dumb sweetheart. You know I’m asking if you fucked yourself to my videos.” His tone was harsh, eyes turning back to you; gaze intense. You swallowed heavily, watching him slowly lift himself off the bed. You stepped back, murmuring as he met your step, backing you against the cabinets. “Bet you wished it was my cock instead of your fingers; splitting you open, fucking you until your nothing but a crying mess.”

“Kashimo..” You spoke softly, rising your hands and placing them at his waist. You needed space, air— you felt like you would suffocate with his large form covering; with his smell swarming your senses. You gasped softly as his lips moved to your ear, cool breath tickling your skin. “Please..”

“Haven’t even touched you and you’re already beggin’ for me.” His words were mocking, a breathy chuckle escaping him shortly after. “Go on.. tell me what you want, [Name].”

You could nearly moan at the way your name fell from his lips, eyes pinched closed as your hands crumbled his shirt in a tight grip. You struggled for a moment to form words, eyes pinned to the floor to avoid his gaze. Unfortunately for you, this was one of the few times Kashimo was ever patient; hands seated perfectly on the porcelain cabinets, refusing to touch you until you answer his question.

Finally, after what seemed like moments you glanced up at him, rising to lock your lips with his own. You, please. Was what you whimpered into his mouth, feeling him react immediately. A hand rose to wrap around your neck, the other coming to the underside of your thigh. Kashimo’s clenched around your throat a little, driving his tongue into your mouth and marking it as his own. You whined softly at this, gripping his shirt so much the fear of ripping it entered your mind briefly. The heavy makeout continued only his hand dropped from your neck, grasping your either thigh and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him walk backwards until he sat on the bed.

Your pussy rested just above his crotch, feeling his hardening length through the fabric of your stockings and his sweats. Your arms wrapped around his neck, murmuring against his lips as you slowly ground against him. To your dismay; the man rose his hand, slamming his palm against your ass— the sting causing you to jump, pulling back as a whine escaped your throat. “Kashimo—!” You hissed softly, glaring at the man who grinned back at you.

His fingers soothed the path, rubbing slowly circles into your covered skin, gripping every once in a while. “I suggest you fix your face or you won’t be coming at all tonight.” Kashimo breathed, slapping the same cheek once again. You lurched forward, gripping him so harshly as a soft cry escaped you. “Gonna take my time with you.. explore every inch of you under these clothes,” He hummed softly, hand reaching under your black dress, running his fingers across your thinly covered ass.

“— and i’m not gonna rush just cause your slutty pussy is desperate for my attention.”

“Kashimo…” You whined softly, pleading with your eyes. The man only smiled at you, a sinister smile; highlighting how much he enjoyed toying with you.

“It’s Hajime, princess.” The martial artist corrected, leaning to place wet kisses against your cheeks and neck. You moaned softly, feeling his fingers curl under your dress, slowly pulling it up your body. You moved uncomfortably as the cool air hit your bare skin, feeling him reach behind you; fiddling with your bra for a moment. Once he had unclipped the undergarment he tossed it aside with your dress, pulling back to glance at your exposed chest. You grew nervous under his gaze, having half a mind to cover yourself. Only, he didn’t give you enough time to do so before his large hands grabbed the soft mounds, leaning down to suck a kiss on your collarbone.

His thumbs pressed against your slowly hardening nipple, nicking your skin with his canines. You breathed softly at this, hands rising to curl your fingers into his hair, gasping as you felt his kisses lower; soft lips grazing your areola before he opened his mouth— wrapping his lips around your nipple. The unfamiliar feeling caused you to gasp, eyes pinched closed as you felt him began to suck; gently grazing his teeth across your heated skin while his tongue slid across your pretty bud. Hajime’s other hand was busy playing with your unattended breast, groping and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your moans grew, rising your chest into his face more; chasing after the pleasure he was giving, searching for more. All he was doing was sucking your breasts and yet, your pussy was clenching around nothing— feeling as if you were an inch away from release. You gasped out as he gently clamped down on your nipple, rolling the tender bud to hear you squeal. The ministrations continued as a hand traveled down your body, tracing the stretch marks that lined your skin— rubbing across your rolls before his fingers collected your stockings; pulling them down your body with such force they began to rip.

“Ha—hajime, they’re ripping.” You whimpered softly, words ignored as he snatched the rest of the ruined fabric from your body, tossing it to the forming pile. Your breath hitched as his hand traveled between your legs, two fingers gliding across your covered slit, feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. A soft swear escaped you as he pushed down, pressing against your clit, slowing rolling circles against it.

The added pleasure caused you to lean your head back, eyes pinched close as the feeling consumed your body. This was wrong, more than wrong actually. He was a patient and this was your boss’s office, the bed used by several others when being checked on. Yet here the two of you were, dirtying it with your own selfish desires. You should be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed.

Maybe you would feel so after he was done with you.

A soft pop escaped him as he rose away from your chest, the pretty mounds now tainted with his saliva. His eyes carried down your form, enjoying the sight; your hips moving at an attempt to find more friction in his hand, biting your bottom lip to cover the soft, pretty breaths threatening to escape your throat. Hajime hated himself for waiting to touch you like this.. to make you his. His eyelids lowered as he leaned close, pressing hot kisses against your skin again. “Using my hand to get off, huh? How pathetic..”

In any other situation you would have been offended by his choice of words, but now? It only caused you to moan softly, hips moving fast against his hand— feeling Hajime’s lips move over to your throat. You gripped him as you felt yourself grow more and more aroused, a band forming that was ready to break. Your moans grew louder as you got closer, digging your fingers into his shoulders before your eyes widened; feeling him move his hand away from between your legs.

The band slowly faded, high slipping through your fingers. You nearly sobbed— his name exiting you in a soft whine as the man did nothing but grin down at you. Hajime’s hands traveled up your form, soon tenderly wrapping his fingers around your neck, leaning close.

“Quit whinin’..” He cooed, stamping a kiss against your skin. You gasped as you felt his hood tighten a bit, hand drifting right back between your legs, breaching your panties. Without much warning he curled two fingers inside you, feeling your wet walls clench his thick digits. You swore softly, feeling his fingers reach much deeper then your own could; stretching you out and working you open.

Your pussy began to squelch with each thrust of the digits inside you, thumb rising to push against your engorged clit; hand continuing to hold you steady by the throat. Hajime enjoyed the way your pretty broken moans escaped your throat, voice vibrating against his palm. He curled his fingers once more, watching the way you jumped, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Can’t believe I’m fucking you dumb just from my fingers..” The words came out in an astonished coo, cock twitching under the confinements of his sweats and pants. Oh he couldn’t wait.. wait to see the way you fell apart as he split you open with his length.

But he needed to be patient. Needed to warm you up properly before completely ruining you.

So the pace of his fingers quickened, sounds of your messy pussy surrounding the room; acting as background noise for the high-pitched moans that escaped you. Your hips met each thrust, gripping his wrist to ground yourself. Your thighs squeezed his forearm, head knocking back as you came all over his hand. The man’s fingers soon slowed to a complete stop, withdrawing them from your wetness.

You barely registered him sticking his fingers into his mouth, sucking your mess off them. Once they were clean he leaned forward, kissing you softly— allowing you to taste yourself. So dirty..

Your lips moved slow, his thumb tracing your throat as a soft praise pushed from his lips. Soon enough you felt his hips rise, pressing his clothed cock against your wetness, grinding slowly. Even if you were still sensitive from just a few moments ago, you wanted, no, needed him desperately. So much so it nearly physically hurt.

Hajime rose, switching your positions to slowly lay you out on the bed, pushing you up higher. You whined as he body left you for a second, the sound quickly dying down when you noticed him unclothing. First was his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso and that damned happy trail. The man smirked at you as he tossed his shirt to the side, reaching for his bottoms next. Pushing them down, you watched as his length was revealed. To have it right infront of you rather then on a screen, well.. your phone didn’t do him justice at all.

“‘S not gonna fit.” You mused softly, eyes snapping back to his face, nervous. Hajime almost felt prideful from your words if it wasn’t for your tone of voice. He leaned close, pressing a kiss to your chin. “I’ll make it fit.” He mumbled, pushing close against you, grabbing his cock with one hand while the other grasped your thigh. Rubbing the tip across your slit, he smoothed your juices down his shaft, biting the inside of his cheek. Slowly, he pushed inside you, watching the way your eyebrows twitched, how your legs began to close.

A pained sigh escaped you, Hajime smoothing his hand up and down your heated skin. “Taking me so well, baby.. Just relax.” He spoke softly, hissing when he felt your walls clench from the praise. Soon enough his hips stilled the moment he pushed all the way inside, grasping the underside of your thighs— eyes closed. It took everything not to fuck you into the bed right then and there, feeling the way you carefully moved to adjust yourself; but each clench caused his resolve to wither away more and more.

Moments passed before Hajime opened his eyes, glancing down at you and searching for any sign of pain. When he realized there was none, he experimentally pulled his hips back so only his tip was inside, pushing back in— watching in delight at the way your mouth fell open in a ring O.

Nothing else held the martial artist, soft ruts quickly changing into slams. His cock bullied it’s way inside you, filling you completely. Your legs shook in his hold, gripping the fabric underneath you as broken moans escaped you. Hajime was knocking the wind out of you; pushing your legs up higher so that your knees were touching your chest. The stretch was uncomfortable for a moment, something you would surely feel in the morning— but you didn’t care. The pleasure this man was giving you overshadowed it all.

Your walls clenched him with each drag of his hips, his dark eyes captivated by the way you hugged him so tightly. “Wanted me so fucking bad, didn’t you, princess?“ Hajime hissed, grinning as he watched your eyes attempt to focus on him. The man chuckled softly to himself, leaning over you, trapping you under his body. “Oh, you don’t have to answer sweetheart— I already know the truth.”

The man was drilling into you at this point, tip kissing your g-spot as shameless cries escaped you. Tears treaded down your warm cheeks, grasping his arms for stability. Your breaths were hurried, stomach clenching as you felt yourself get closer and closer. “H—haji.. Fuck, I’m so close!”

He relished under the nickname, slamming you into the bed as he planted hot kisses against your skin. “Go on, then. Make a mess on my cock, sweet girl.” With his permission you came, gushing around him; arousal dripping down his length to the floor. You trembled from the feeling, gasping once you realized he hadn’t stopped moving. So sensitive you were, crying out to him as you reached to grip his arm.

“I—I cant, Haji—!”

“You can..“ The man corrected, angling his hips to push deeper inside you. “Waited so long to fuck you like this, to watch you go dumb on my cock— ‘M not stopping until I repay you for those three weeks.”

And he wasn’t lying either. It was almost felt like hours passed with him putting you into different positions, driving you deeper and deeper into the bed to the point it began to creak. By now you could barely speak, could barely form a sound other then a jumbled babble of his name and a soft gasp.

In the midst of it all you were suddenly pushed against the wall, thighs wrapped around his form as he shoved himself into you; a spark of pain washing over you each time he brushed your cervix— pain that melted away rather quickly.

From the way his hips stuttered you knew he was close, his face pushed into your neck as he gripped your skin harshly. Skin on skin contact filled the room, desperate sounds of pleasure following until Hajime swore; spilling into you. The warmth alone pushed you over the edge, cumming for the upteenth time that night— walls milking his cock.

The man’s hips finally came to a halt, breathing heavily as he simply held you there up against the wall. After a few moments he walked backwards, sitting on the bed; the two of you groaning in sensitivity. He pulled your hot body against his own, cradling your lower back with his fingers tracing the dimples there.

The room was silent as the two of you caught your breath, simply enjoying holding the other.

Soon enough the man pulled back, continuing to smooth his hands across your skin. “You’ll probably have to call in sick tomorrow.” Hajime murmured, grinning at the soft chuckle that escaped you.

“Yeah.. you’re probably right.”

[kayesfanfics]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Warnings: Smut, cursing, AFAB! Reader, not proof read. Soft, maybe ooc Striker

You stumbled into the hotel room with your boyfriend, both of you tipsy from the bar down the street and both of you horny, grabbing at each others hair and clawing at each others backs. Striker kicked the door shut behind him as his lips never left yours, removing a hand from your hair to lock the door before you pulled him further into the room. You both tripped over the others feet, desperately undressing yourselves and the other. You tugged Strikers bandana off his neck as he shrugged his jacket off, both of you toeing your boots off as you fell back onto the bed. Striker smiled down at you as he began undressing the rest of himself, before he grabbed at your pants and nearly ripped them off of your body.

“Yer tellin me yer all hot n’ bothered cause of that random ass chick droolin’ over me?” He asked in a teasing way, breathily laughing as you grabbed him and tugged him so he was on top of you, your lips attaching to his neck. He groaned as you did so, clawing at your back as you sucked a dark hickey into the side of his throat.

“That bitch kept undressin’ you with her eyes and ya knew it, ya prick.” You growled into his ear, before kissing the hickey you just left on him, reattaching your lips to leave another hickey.

“Aw, dollface, ya know I don’ got no eyes for no one but you.” He grinned as his hand tangled into your hair, pulling at your hair to try and pry you off of his neck. “Hey, quit that shit and listen ta me for a sec.”

He tugged again and you let go of him, looking up at him in the eyes. He had a playful smile on his face still, but his eyes were a bit softer as he caressed your face, making you blush both from the gesture and the alcohol.

“I don’ love nobody but you, ya know that, right? Only reason I even acknowledged that bitch was to rile ya up, lil’ lady.” He said as he kissed your lips, down to your neck, to your bare chest, sliding down onto his knees on the floor as his kisses trailed down to your core. You moaned when he kissed your clothed pussy, before sliding your underwear off and tossing them aside with the rest of your clothes strung about the hotel room. He kissed and gently but the insides of your soft thighs, squeezing them with his hands to keep them apart as you bit your lip at his actions.

“Striker…” You moaned, your hips bucking up a little, desperate for his touch where you wanted.

“Lemme take my time, doll. So impatient…” he smirked up at you, loving how needy you were for him. “Wanna show ya yer the only girl fer me.”

You propped yourself onto your elbows to watch him kiss and suck hickeys into your thighs, licking over them when he finished and moved on to the next one. After a while, he finally put his mouth to work on your cunt, starting out sucking your clit, making you fall back and arch your back off the bed.

“Shit! S-Striker! Holy fuck!” You moaned as his tongue licked up and down your folds, his grip on your thighs tightening as they threatened to clamp around his head. He groaned into you, sending vibrations up your body and making you whimper as you tried to keep yourself quiet, not wanting to get kicked out of another hotel because of it.

You gasped when you felt his tongue slip into your hole, your hands flying to grasp at the sheets beneath you as your legs pressed against his hands, the pleasure beginning to become overwhelming. You panted out his name and several curses as he ate you out, letting go of one of your legs to finger you while his mouth worked at your clit.

“Baby, fuck! I’m gonna…oh my fuck!” You screamed as the coil inside of you snapped, your body trembling as your orgasm hit you like a truck. Striker licked you out through it, and cleaned you up with his tongue before standing up to lean over you, chuckling at your already fucked our face.

“Aw, you ain’t already tired are ya, sweetheart?” He asked as he brought his two fingers up to your mouth, pushing past your lips to let you taste yourself on his fingers and suck them clean for him. You nodded your head ‘no’, to which he smiled, “Good. Cause I want ya to ride me like a good girl, m’kay?”

It was your turn to grin smugly at him, flipping him over and kissing him passionately before pulling away from him.

“Well then get on that bed, cowboy.” You smirked, getting off of him to find his hat and put it on your head while he slid up to the middle of the bed, laying down and stroking his cock as he watched you crawl on top of him, your soft thighs caging him in as you leaned down to press your chest to his and lock your lips with his. With the hand not supporting you, you replaced his hand on his cock and stroked it for him, a moan escaping his mouth as his tongue danced with yours.

You eventually pulled away to sit up, aligning yourself with his cock and slowly sinking down into it. You both groaned at the sensation, Striker folding an arm behind his head to enjoy the show, the other rubbing your thigh comfortingly as you adjusted to him. You slowly started to lift yourself off his cock halfway before sinking back down, getting faster and easier as you went on. His eyes squeezed shut and he bared his teeth as you picked up the pace, the hand on your thigh digging it’s claws into your skin, making you hiss. Your hands found their way to his chest, using it to hold yourself up and to squeeze his pecs, your hips rolling and bouncing on him. Striker looked up at your breasts bouncing in his face, moaning as the sight and a hand reaching up to grope at them, the other still digging into your thigh. The both of you panted and moaned loudly, screaming each others names and cursing to yourselves from the pleasure you felt from the others body.

“Mother…fuck! Shit, Y/N! I’m close!” He warned you, head tossing back as you continued to grope at his body and riding the life out of him. “Goddamn, sweetheart, you’ve gotten good at this!”

You smiled proudly as you watched him stumble on his words below you, his usual smug smirk gone as his eyes slightly rolled back into his head. You bounced slightly faster, both of you whimpering at that as you both reached your highs, Striker’s hips shooting up into yours as he filled you, causing you to moan loudly. When you both calmed down, you fell back onto the bed beside him, not caring about the mess between you as you caught your breath. Striker kissed you on the cheek and stood up after a few minutes of settling down, going to bathroom and grabbing a washcloth to clean you up, before he tossed the now dirty rag and got right back into bed with you, pulling you close to him as he pulled the covers over both of you.

“Still jealous?” He asked, his cocky smile back on his tired face. You rolled your eyes, making him laugh before tilting your head to kiss him. “I’m teasin’ ya, pumpkin. I love ya.”

“I love ya too, I guess.” You grinned back at him, kissing him again as you cuddle into his warm body.