#idk if this makes any sense i should be asleep

[windwenn]

Obsessed with how good wtnv is at manipulating you. They'll tell you that you feel as though youre staring into the void at the end of an episode and you will truly be feeling as though you have gazed into the dark abyss and seen no distant light at all. And you WILL NOT realise until the last minute.

[purpleshadow-star]

It's kind of funny (heartbreaking) that there were multiple Ravens who wanted a number, to the point where some tried to manipulate Jean into helping them one way or another, but none of them would have been next in line. No matter what they did, there was always someone ahead of them on the list. Someone who wasn't even on the team. That someone wasn't Neil. Neil was a surprise to everyone, including Riko. That someone was Andrew.

Kevin might have had to beg Riko to go visit Andrew, and Riko might have laughed at Kevin and dismissed Andrew when Andrew turned him down, but make no mistake, if Andrew had accepted and had become a Raven, he would have taken that #4 spot within his first year.

If we're being real, Andrew had more of a chance at becoming part of the perfect Court than any of those Ravens ever had. Even Jean thinks of Andrew as one of them.

The other Ravens never stood a chance.

[yoloyeahhh]

Hymn to Virgil is such a good spiritual successor to Tell It To My Heart and Francesca, I need you to understand.

The production is heavier than typical for his sound but, just like in Tell It To My Heart, he pulls it off so well. It’s not as strongly experimental, which makes sense considering it’s not a feature this time, but it’s exactly what I’ve been craving from his discography since hearing what Meduza pulled out of him. Taking a similar technical approach but still highlighting Hozier’s specific musicality… musical perfection.

Thematically, it sure does sound like it belongs in Unreal Unearth. Beyond the clear continuation of the Inferno inspiration (very heavy handed in this one, but we love some Virgil devotion), the story beats of the song feel like a direct callback to Francesca from the base album. Like “you are the reason I went through it/the only meaning as I knew it […] I’d walk through hell on living feet for you” compared to “If someone asked me at the end/I’d tell them put me back in it […] If I could hold you for a minute/Darling, I’d go through it again” the narrative beats feel very reminiscent of one another. And, while yes, I do greatly enjoy Francesca and that is a large contributor to my excitement at this, the implications of these parallels for the commentary being made on Dante’s work has me buzzing.

I do not have time to keep unpacking all that I’m thinking about this song right now; I could easily talk about this for at least an hour and that’s without doing any external research yet. Maybe I’ll come back to this with more thoughts later… BUT, all in all, highly recommend listening to Hymn to Virgil!!! I love this song!!!!

[bookishjules]

idk but something about dru telling julian that she doesn't feel like a part of the family and then jules reassuring her that she is in fact the very heart of it.. something about julian leading the family with his heart buried inside him and something about dru being cast aside and relegated to babysitting duties. something about heart and love and hope and tending the future and "if there was one thing julian's life had tought him, it was that nothing was more dangerous than hope." something about a malnourished heart beating so strongly despite despite despite. something about dru finally getting to stay with the big kids and be part of the family now that hope has begun syphoning itself into julian's caged heart.

[saturnovy]

just slamming some thoughts that probably don’t make sense on the table

i feel like there’s a weird stereotype around aromantic folks, ya know?

media has a big influence on the way people form their perspectives, intentionally or not. and most of the canon and headcanoned aro characters i’ve seen in media have mostly been the closed off, blunt, smart type.

the media representation plus the definition of aromanticism itself can cause allo people to see aros as heartless and bitter people with a distaste for love, but most of the aro people i’ve met have been so chill and nicer to me than my own family.

aromanticism means something different for every aro person and i’m sure some do fit the stereotype, but from what i know, most don’t.

i guess i somewhat understand why allo people think about aros that way? because something so normally craved by them isn’t by us? maybe?

i might be wrong, but that’s all i can deduce.

anyway yeah, i was just doin a big think. imma go to bed and try to cram in a few hours of sleep before work

[aceisexisting]

Have you ever stimmed so much you hurt yourself

I just watched a very very very amazing video and it gave me so much joy that I just had to keep moving around and just going zoom (I call this my zoomies, yes I'm pretty sure it's a cat term, I don't care) and.

Now my back hurts.

[brutal-out-here]

Me: *makes post about how I low key get embarrassed even thinking about writing requests others have sent to my writing blog*

Also me: *writes out a whole list of ideas for things to write in a matter of seconds despite the fact that it’s 1am and I should have been asleep and hour and a half ago*

[rafecameronssl4t]

IM BEGGING FOR MORE FRATBOY!RAFE CAMERON PLEASEEEE💔

Trap Queen || Frat boy!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: hehehe missed writing frat boy!rafe also had no idea what to title this so I thought this song kinda matched idk

Warnings: mentions of sex, idk if there’s anything else

Word count: 2,042

MASTERLIST (frat boy!rafe x reader au masterlist)

“I have no idea what her problem is with me,” you mutter under your breath, your eyes flicking toward Jada, who’s glaring at you like she’d love nothing more than to see you vanish. Her gaze lingers, intense and filled with something close to hatred.

You turn back to Rafe, irritation bubbling up as you try to make sense of the tension hanging in the air. Rafe glances over lazily, his eyes briefly scanning Jada before he scoffs, almost amused by the situation. He leans back casually, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between you and tossing it into his mouth without a second thought.

“Probably ‘cause she was trying to get into my pants before we started dating,” he mumbles through a mouthful, barely caring to mask the indifference in his voice. Your body stiffens, eyes widening as you process what he just said. “Are you serious?” you snap, crossing your arms and staring at him, bewildered.

“And you didn’t think I should know this?” Rafe slows his chewing, his brow arching slightly as he swallows. His reaction is calm, almost too calm.“Didn’t think it was worth mentioning. She’s irrelevant babe,” he shrugs, his voice annoyingly nonchalant. “I don’t give a fuck about her.”

You turn to look at Jada again, and this time she isn’t even pretending to hide the jealousy etched across her face. She’s whispering furiously to her best friend, the sorority president, her eyes flicking between you and Rafe with an almost desperate need for attention. The way her eyes follow Rafe, hungry and spiteful, makes the knot in your stomach tighten.

She’s clearly still bitter, and her gaze shifts between you and Rafe like she’s daring you to flaunt what she can’t have. It’s more than just resentment—it’s envy, glaringly obvious, and you can feel her simmering frustration from across the room. Frustration swells inside you, and without thinking, you reach for Rafe’s hand, gripping it firmly.

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur, not wanting to feed into Jada’s petty game, but unable to shake the discomfort gnawing at you. Before Rafe can say anything, you grab his hand, pulling him up from the couch. His surprise shows for a second, but he follows your lead, letting you drag him away.

~

“Fuck off,” Rafe growls at the sound of a knock on his door, still half-asleep and annoyed as he shifts under the blankets. His arm gently moves you off him, and you let out a soft whine, instantly missing the warmth and security of his body pressed against yours. He sighs as the knocking persists, louder this time, more insistent.

“I’m coming!” he yells, frustration evident in his tone as he clumsily pulls his boxers up his legs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He’s barely awake, his movements sluggish, but the incessant knocking has him on edge. Just as Rafe reaches for the door, he pauses, his hand hovering over the knob.

A frown crosses his face. It wouldn’t be any of his frat brothers—they’d all gone home for the long weekend. Suspicion sharpens his senses, and he leans toward the peephole, squinting as he peers through it. His gut twists the moment he sees who’s on the other side, Alice, your sorority president, and Jada.

“Shit,” he mutters, backing away from the door. He hurries back to the bed, his hand reaching for your shoulder as he shakes you gently. “Babe, hey. Wake up,” he whispers urgently, trying to keep calm as you groan, still half-lost in sleep. “Jada and Alice are outside,” he says, his voice low but urgent.

The words barely sink in before you’re wide awake, panic flooding your system. “What?” you whisper, your voice strained with disbelief as you sit up, your heart racing. In an instant, you’re scrambling to grab your clothes, your mind spinning. “What are they doing here?” you hiss, pulling your jeans up your legs in a rush.

Your fingers fumble as you try to fasten them, your breath quickening with every second. Rafe’s hands are already on your back, tying up the straps of your top with quick, precise movements. “Fucked if I know,” he mutters, glancing toward the door. The knocking continues, sharper and more demanding this time, as Jada’s voice echoes through the room.“Rafe, open up! We know you’re in there!”

Jada calls out, her tone laced with impatience, as if she’s holding some kind of authority over him.“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, cursing the situation. The last thing you need is Jada and Alice catching you here—especially like this. Your mind races with the possibilities of why they’ve shown up now, of all times. Rafe turns to you, his hands resting on your arms as he tries to steady you.

His eyes are calm but serious. “Just hide in the bathroom. I’ll deal with them,” he says firmly, his voice low and reassuring despite the situation. You nod, heart pounding in your chest, and quickly dart toward the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. Locking it, you press your ear to the wood, your breath held as you strain to hear what’s happening.

You hear Rafe sigh heavily before he opens the door, his voice low and tense as he greets Jada and Alice. The muffled sound of their conversation seeps through the door, but it’s hard to make out the words clearly. Your stomach twists as you wait, hoping that whatever they want, Rafe can get rid of them without making things worse.

Rafe opens the door just enough to stand in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a bored, unimpressed look on his face. He eyes Jada and Alice, his expression indifferent as he sizes them up. “Can I help you?” he asks dryly, making it clear from the start that he has no interest in whatever they’re about to say.

Jada and Alice exchange a quick glance, their irritation barely hidden beneath thin smiles. Alice, with her usual fake sweetness, steps forward, her voice dripping with insincerity. “Is Y/n here by any chance?” she asks, flashing Rafe the overly saccharine smile she gives to everyone. He sees right through it—he knows exactly how two-faced she really is.

Rafe lets out a short, amused snort, crossing his arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he replies with a smirk, clearly enjoying himself. Jada opens her mouth to say something, but he cuts her off before she can get a word in. “No, she’s not here. Why do you even care?” He raises an eyebrow, his voice sharp with challenge.

Alice, not backing down, continues with the same fake concern. “She wasn’t in her room while we were doing our rounds last night, and her roommate said she never came back,” she explains, though her tone lacks genuine worry. Rafe can barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. It’s clear they’re just fishing for information, and their excuse is weak at best.

“What, you have curfews on a Friday night?” Rafe deadpans, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He watches as the annoyance flickers across their faces, and he takes pleasure in knowing he’s getting under their skin. Alice forces a tight-lipped smile, her patience clearly wearing thin.

“Yeah, to make sure everyone is home safe and sound,” she says, her voice still maintaining that fake sweetness, though Rafe can hear the underlying frustration. “Right, sure,” Rafe mutters, clearly not buying it. He shifts his weight and straightens up, his disinterest obvious. “Well, like I said, she’s not here,” he says flatly.

The two girls stand in tense silence for a moment. Rafe can see a flicker of something—perhaps jealousy or frustration—behind Jada’s eyes, and it intrigues him. He watches as Alice turns, clearly ready to leave this awkward encounter behind, but Jada’s sudden outburst catches her off guard.

“What do you even see in her, anyway?” Her sudden outburst catches Alice by surprise, and she glances back at Jada with wide eyes. Rafe raises an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by her boldness. “Jada, let’s just go. She’s not here,” Alice mutters, her hand gently squeezing Jada’s arm, as if trying to ground her. Rafe can’t resist interjecting. “Yeah, Jada. She’s not here,” he mocks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans casually against the doorframe.

Rafe’s disdain for Jada is palpable, and he relishes the chance to get under her skin. The flush of anger spreads quickly across her cheeks, her fists clenching at her sides as if holding back an explosion of frustration. The heat radiates off her in waves, her glare sharp and unyielding, her eyes narrowing with contempt.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” she snaps, her voice bitter, teetering on the edge of desperation. Her gaze burns into him, full of resentment. “You think you can just parade around with her like she’s some prize to be won. What makes her so special?”

Rafe meets her gaze head-on, completely unfazed. He tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Why are you so obsessed with my fucking girlfriend, Jada?” His voice cuts through the tension like a blade, catching her off guard for just a second. She falters, her posture stiffening at the unexpected challenge.

“This is clearly between you and me, so leave Y/n out of it,” Rafe continues, his tone sharp and unwavering. He steps closer, his expression darkening with warning. “You got a problem with me? Fine. But don’t drag her into whatever this is.”Jada’s eyes flash with frustration, her lips tightening as she struggles to maintain her composure.

She clearly wasn’t expecting Rafe to call her out so directly, and the protectiveness in his voice stings more than she wants to admit. “You think you can just blow me off like I’m nothing?” she hisses, her voice trembling slightly. “I see how you look at her, how you act like she’s so perfect, like she’s better than everyone else.” There’s a bitterness in her words, a jealousy she’s no longer able to hide.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “If you think this is about anything more than your own jealousy, you’re delusional,” he says bluntly. His tone is calm, almost amused, as if he’s thoroughly enjoying watching her squirm. “If you’ve got some fantasy that I ever wanted anything to do with you, that’s on you, not me.”

“Get over yourself. I don’t want you, and I never fucking did,” Jada opens her mouth, clearly intending to argue, but no words come out. For a moment, she’s frozen, her face a mixture of shock and hurt, as if she never expected him to be so blunt. The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable. Rafe leans back against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a lazy air of indifference. He knows he’s won.

“Why don’t you take your little jealousy trip somewhere else?” he says with a bored tone, as if she were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His words only fuel her fury, but he doesn’t care—he’s already dismissed her in his mind. Jada’s fists tremble at her sides, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

She glares at him one last time before spinning on her heel and storming off, her heels clicking angrily against the floor. Alice glances at Rafe for a moment, but she’s smart enough not to say anything. She shoots Rafe a scowl that could cut through steel, her frustration evident. “Leave Y/n alone. Don’t test me,” Rafe warns, his tone lowering to a menacing growl.

There’s no way he’ll allow them to interfere in your life, not when they’re so clearly motivated by envy. Alice opens her mouth, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitates, measuring the threat in his eyes. After a moment, she seems to reconsider, her expression darkening with resignation. With a heavy sigh, she shakes her head and turns on her heel, hastily following Jada down the hallway. Rafe watches them go, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.

[thecoochiefairy]

bloodhound. toji.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kenji grumbles, but accepts another strawberry anyway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?”

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

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

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

“I’m too weak to stand,” he mutters, a hint of stubbornness in his voice, But I don’t need help showering. I’m still capable of taking care of myself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you regret the life you lived?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So what are you saying?” 

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

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

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

“What happened to not wanting me married off to a man like you or my father? The one who robbed, cheated, lied, killed? That’s what you want for me?” She sharply replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nods her head, “Okay.”

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

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

                                          𝓐ᥫ᭡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She huffs out a breath, “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nihongo o hanasemasu ka?” 

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

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

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

“You’re not what I was expecting.”

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

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

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

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

“Toji Fushiguro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yup, there it was. Her patience was thinning. 

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

“Nah,” he said simply, “Not at all.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I miss you too, momma.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“....But I will speak to him.” He finalizes, his voice low.

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

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

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

“Sayuki,” He warns. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I remember clearly.”

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

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

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

“I’m here to apologize.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

“What, no invite?”

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

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

She notices Toji along the wall, tilting her body to the side as she states to him, “I don’t know what shoes to wear.”

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

“You’ asking for my opinion?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I say that?” 

“No.”

“Then why are you apologizing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could they ever be compatible?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go? Yeah, nah. I’m good on’ that.” 

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

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

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

“Strawberries, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, guess I’ve been figured out.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just—“

“Yo, Yakuza boy!”

They both halt, Sayuki pulling herself away as she looks to the end of the alleyway, seeing two men beginning to walk towards them. They weren’t familiar to her, but she had a feeling this was men from another clan. The way they walk towards them—it’s not inviting in the slightest. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Leaving so soon?” 

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

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

“You’ got a fuckin’ death wish?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An anger she hadn’t expected seeps through her entire body. Even with a throbbing jaw, a weary vision, she scurries forward as she grabs the crowbar the man originally held, raising it as she swung harshly at him, watching as he slammed against the wall from impact. She reaches within the back of her jacket, pulling a bigger pocket knife as she jabs it within his side, using her strength to hold him against the wall, ignoring the curse he lets out. 

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

Toji pushes himself up with a low grunt at the sound of her voice, his hand still covering the spot where he was now bleeding, pissed at how own vision was becoming blurry, hearing the shouts of the man, seeing his shadow glide by as he took off from the alleyway, knife still within his side.

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

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

“I’m fine,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                     𝓐ᥫ᭡

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t care where you were—“

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

“How does your face feel?”

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

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

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

She knows he’s upset, but she doesn’t want to make it any worse. She leans down as she gives him a kiss on the cheek, bowing as she allows the housekeeper to get him ready for bed. She gave herself time to relax, showering off the blood on her hands and body, throwing an oversized tee on herself, slipping along her house slippers as she goes in search of the guest bedroom along the opposite side of the house. It’s dim within the hallway, quiet as she pads her feet against the floor. She doesn’t know why she feels nervous. She stands in front of the sliding door, halting herself there as she takes a quiet breath. She knocks along the wooden part, not wanting to intrude.

Toji is sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless as he looks over his stitched up wound. He had scars all over him, but the newest one was different.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hurts like a motherfucker.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She can feel the tears in her eyes. She swipes her fingers under her cheeks, feeling her hands trembling as she shudders, “I just…I was so scared,” she tremors, “You can’t do shit like that, Fushiguro—“ she's hyperventilating at this point, “I can’t lose someone else like that…” she brings her hands to her face, sharply inhaling as she full on cries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I say you hurt me?” 

“No—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His body, firm and muscular keeps her pinned against the bed, her chest rising and falling heavily as he kisses down her stomach. Toji grumbles against her, biting the skin along her hip, “I can’t fuckin’ get enough of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You mean it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[chisatowo]

Rotates Wendy gender moments in my head at rapid speeds

[pomefioredove]

Could you write a continuation of 'A Private Meeting" where it's revealed Rook was messing with them in some shape or form?

I've been thinking about this prompt and this is my ideal outcome. double post for today!!

part one

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a private meeting (rook ending)

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following-following conversation type of post: short fic characters: technically rook, vil is there, so is epel additional info: romantic I think, idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Well, that was a complete waste of an evening,"

Vil takes long, graceful strides into the dark Pomefiore lounge. It's already past ten, and most of the dorm is asleep.

Not him, though.

An inexplicable sense of disappointment is heavy on his perfectly postured shoulders tonight. He would never admit it aloud, perhaps not even to himself, but he was greatly looking forward to unfurling that piece of paper and reading his name.

He stops.

"I don't know why I even bother," he mutters to himself, just loud enough for his vice housewarden to hear.

"Ah, do not be so forlorn, my Roi du Poison! You already know the prefect holds you dear. There is not a doubt in my mind that your beautiful name was the first on that list!"

"...And frowning like that will give you wrinkles."

Vil turns over his shoulder to glare at Rook.

"Not that. This,"

There are a pair of muddy boot prints sprawling all across the pristine lounge, already dry and caked over the perfect carpet.

Vil doesn't need to be a hunter like Rook to know what creature they came from.

"Epel,"

Rook peers over the housewarden's shoulder, and tsks. "Shall I have a word with him? He's likely still awake,"

"No, no. You've done enough tonight," Vil says. "I'll handle this."

He leaves the lounge, and his vice housewarden, behind. This evening had already been more than frustrating, and he was not going to spiral over a little mud.

"Felmier," he opens the door without knocking. "Here. Now."

Even if he were not intimately familiar with the room and bed assignments for each dorm, he would know which blanketed lump was Epel.

Only one of them jumped, anyway.

Epel peers out from under his covers like a small child.

"...Now?"

"Do not make me repeat myself,"

He hesitates, and slowly slips out of bed, and comes to the door. Vil pulls him into the hallway as to not disturb the well-behaved students.

"I have already had an impossibly tedious day, and what do I come back to find? You, all over the carpet in the lounge. How many times do I have to tell you to wipe your feet before coming inside? Are you a toddler?"

Epel winces. "...Slipped my mind,"

"Of course. Of course," he mutters. "You will be responsible for your mess. Dawn. I want all of it gone before breakfast."

Vil was expecting him to argue, or, Sevens forbid, negotiate, but Epel says nothing.

And then: "Where were you, anyway?"

His eyes narrow. "I don't see how that's any of your concern,"

"Meeting?"

"Do not change the subject,"

"...Cause I saw Ortho about two hours ago, and he said-"

Vil takes a deep, calming breath. Now is not the time to spiral. He needs sleep. He needs quiet.

Epel blinks. "...I'm not trying to antagonize you or nothing. I just thought you should know,"

He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Know what, Epel?"

"...That I have the list,"

Pause.

Vil looks down at the boy. Had he heard that right? No, he couldn't possibly-

"The prefect let me keep it after the party. I thought it was funny, so..." Epel looks away, almost sheepishly. "I have it in my desk right now."

Many, many new possibilities come from this. Epel is lying. He's distracting him. There's no way...

Vil is quiet. He should scold Epel for fibbing, but the slight possibility that he's telling the truth...

...that the real list is in that room, right now, with Vil's name on it...

"Show me,"

Epel disappears into the quiet room, and comes back with a folded piece of lined paper, almost exactly identical to the one Grim had eaten.

On the back is a game of hangman, and, unmistakably, the prefect's handwriting.

"I don't understand," Vil murmurs. "If this is it, what did we have?"

Epel shrugs. "Mix up?"

"No," he says, turning over the paper in his hands. "Rook would have checked. Thoroughly. He would have known..."

He stops. The thought hits him before he can even finish his sentence.

"...Unless..."

Vil's perfectly manicured fingers slide under the fold of the paper and open it.

There, in the prefect's familiar handwriting, is a list.

At number one: Rook Hunt.

Not a doubt in his mind, huh?

Vil re-folds the paper, confiscates it in his pocket, and looks down at Epel.

"Go to bed. You'll start looking undead if you keep staying up this late,"

"But-"

"No buts," he says firmly, turning to walk back in the direction he'd come from. "And... You may sleep in. Forget about cleaning the lounge tomorrow."

"-I have someone else who needs to be reminded of his place."

[st7rnioioss]

✧˚ · . the kitchen counter

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warning: smut, swearing.

word count: 1.9k

inspired by sturnsfilmed's tiktok story because she gives me LIFE. btw sorry if theres any spelling errors or mistakes, english isn't my first language💔

idk, let me know if i should give up.

You and Matt had been dating for around a year and a half. You often spent time at the triplet's house, as you all were so close at this point that it didn't matter if you stayed for weeks.

"Alright, I'm going to sleep!" you yelled from upstairs. Nick, Matt, and Chris were sitting down in the living room watching a movie, but since it was already 2 am, you decided to go to sleep. You already had some problems with falling asleep, so it wouldn't make sense to stay up any longer.

You got a message from Matt.

"Without me?"

You let out a quiet laugh, rolling your eyes at your screen, your back resting against the headboard.

"You're such a tease"

As you laid in bed, scrolling through TikTok at 3 am, you suddenly got thirsty. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling for a bit, before getting up and sneaking down to the kitchen. It was extremely dark since it was winter, so almost no moonlight lit up the hallway or kitchen.

The stairs creaked silently, but you managed to get down without making any major noise.

"What the fuck-" you said quietly, as you bumped into something. Or, someone? It felt weird, almost like you walked into something bare. You reached for the light switch, only to find Matt, smirking, in front of you with a glass, now emptied, in front of you. You looked at him, in his plaid pants and no shirt, which was funny because it was so cold at night. He smiled awkwardly at you.

"Aren't you cold?" you whispered to him, a smile playing on your lips.

"Well, a little," he whispered back, fixing his hair. You both looked down, the floor completely wet from the spilled water.

"Sorry," you snickered, going to find paper towels. He turned to follow you, also grabbing a few pieces.

✧˚ · .

"Holy fuck, how big is that glass?" you asked frustrated, both of you sitting on the floor, wiping the mess up. You looked up, only to find Matt already looking at you.

"What are you doing up anyway?" Matt asked, stopping cleaning up the mess. You put the paper towels back onto the floor, folding your legs.

"Well, I couldn't sleep, plus, I got thirsty," you said, looking down at your hands. "What about you?"

"Almost the same thing. I got thirsty, but someone interrupted me," he laughed and you joined him. He looked at you for a bit, before cutting the laugh off.

"Hey, can I be honest with you," he said quietly, looking at your lips. You looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Of course, you were a bit confused by what he meant by this.

"Yeah sure," you said, smiling and grabbing his hand reassuringly.

"I really want to kiss you," he said, letting go of your hand to cup your face with both his hands. He pulled you in, kissing your lips softly. You held both his elbows, leaning closer to him.

The kiss quickly got heated. You felt the kiss get rougher, filled with much more desire as he entered his tongue into your mouth. You both repeatedly broke off the kiss to breathe, which only made the whole scene much hotter. It got to the point where you both had to stand up, your arms wrapping around his neck, both his hands sliding down your sides.

"You're so pretty," Matt breathed out, catching his breath. You giggled a bit in return, still panting.

Matt quickly grabbed your face again, this time with only one hand on your face, the other one grabbing your ass. You let out a soft whine in response, ruffling your hand into his hair, the other one resting against his bare chest, occasionally holding him by his neck in order for you to pull him closer.

After what felt like an eternity of roughly kissing each other, Matt pulled away.

"Can I take this off?" he asked quietly, a demanding tone in his voice, as he tugged at the hem of your shirt.

"Please do," you breathed out, raising your arms above your head as Matt pulled it off.

"Fuck- you're so beautiful," Matt said, leaving small wet kisses along your neck and collarbone.

"M-matt," you whimpered, his kisses driving you insane. You could already feel yourself getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

He only chuckled against your skin, kissing you harder, now leaving kissing down between your breasts, which made your head fall back.

"Get on the counter. Now," he demanded, as you obeyed just as quickly. You positioned yourself on the edge of the counter, Matt standing in front of you, your legs around his bare waist. Matt kissed your chest, all the way down to your waistband, your hands still buried in this dark hair.

He looked up at you, his pretty doe eyes almost begging for it. He smirked slyly, and you nodded acceptingly.

It didn't take a minute for Matt to pull your pants down. You sat on the counter, only wearing your panties, Matt in front of you, only wearing his pants.

"Gosh, I'm gonna fuck you so nicely," he basically whimpered, pulling my panties aside with one finger, inserting two quickly.

"Fuck, you're already soaked," he chuckled. You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You gasped, your legs tightening around you. Matt looked up at you with a smirk, your mouth wide agape. As his fingers kept pumping in and out of you, your breaths got heavier, your moans louder.

"Matt- please, we can't do this here," you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid the moans.

"Stay quiet. No one is going to notice," he smirked, his free hand resting on your thigh, the other one pumping repeatedly in and out of your throbbing core.

As he kept going, you felt the familiar knot in your stomach tightening.

"Matt. Matt, I'm close," you whimpered, now holding both his shoulders for support.

"It's okay princess. Let go for me," he said, adding his free hand to rub slow soft circles on your clit. Your mouth, once again, fell wide open.

"M-matt, I'm gonna cum-" you said, cutting yourself off with a whimper. As he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, you felt your lets starting to tremble, which then resulted in you coming all over his fingers.

"Oh my god," Matt said quietly, still pumping his fingers in and out of you. You tried your best not to moan, covering your mouth with one hand, the other one still holding his shoulder for support.

"Get down from the table. I want you bent over the counter, hands on the surface." Matt said, his tone stern.

You quickly obeyed, getting down from the table. As you got down, trying to position yourself, Matt sucked his fingers off, leading to him almost losing it. You bent over in front of him, looking back at him.

"Now, be as quiet as you possibly can. You don't want Chris and Nick seeing us like this, do you?" he asked, pulling down his pajama pants.

"N-no.." you said, your hands resting on the cold surface of the counter, his boxers and pants falling to his thighs.

"Good. Just relax," he said reassuringly, grabbing his cock, and gently aligning it with your, now dripping entrance. He tugged at himself a few times. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying your best to keep calm.

Matt slowly pushed himself into you, resulting in a gasp from the both of you.

"Holy fuck," he groaned, pressing his whole length into you.

"Oh my god, Matt-" you whimpered quietly. Matt gently started moving inside of you, slowly pulling out, just for him to press himself back in, leading in groans escaping his lips, his movements growing harder and faster, as he took you from behind. One of his hands rested on your hips securely, the other also grabbing the counter as his thrusts grew harder and faster.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, squinting his eyes. You let out a whimper in return, the words completely disappearing from your mouth.

"Shh, it's okay baby. Let me take of you," he whispered into your ear, his words sent shivers down your spine, driving you both closer.

"Fuck-" you moaned quietly, before covering your mouth with one of your hands, making sure not to wake up Nick or Chris. In return, Matt gently pulled your hair.

"Be quiet," he said demanding.

You tried your best to muffle your moans, only leading to whimpers and whines. As his thrust grew harder, one of his hands went down to stroke your thighs, quickly finding its way to your core.

"Matt- please don't. I can't promise I'll be quiet," you whimpered, your mouth still wide open.

"Oh, you're gonna love it when I do," he teased, his index fingers finding their way to play with your clit. You threw your head back in pleasure, his touching driving you to your limits.

Matt chuckled breathlessly, the vibrations tickling your ears. His hips moved swiftly, each thrust hitting your sweet spot within you and causing tiny moans to slip your lips.

"That's it, baby," he rasped, his fingers moving faster, while each thrust getting harder and faster.

You moaned again, quickly covering your mouth. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling your release approaching.

"Cum for me," Matt hissed into your ear, his hips moving faster in a rhythm that could've made you see stars. His fingers pressed in closer to that sensitive spot, teasing and circling around until you were squirming against him with need. You writhed beneath him.

"Matt, I'm gonna cum," you moaned again.

"Let go puppy," he rasped. And you did. You came onto him, trying your very best not to moan any louder than you already were.

Matt groaned deeply, feeling your tightness around him as you climaxed once again. His thrusts didn't stop though, driving deeper into your heat as he held you close. "Fuck, you feel incredible," he panted, his own release imminent.

"Matt, please stop. I-it's too much," you begged, your head falling forward between your arms.

Matt let out a few low moans as he thrust deeper one last time and filled you up with his warmth. His hand held your hip tightly as he groaned, his breath hot on your neck.

"Oh my fucking god. You're amazing," he rasped. Matt slowly pulled out of you, leaving you both whimpering, his warmth dribbling down your inner thigh. He bent over you, kissing your neck a few times. You wiped your forehead off, smiling at him. You stood up, your back sore. As you stood upright, your legs trembled.

"Fuck. Looks like someone isn't going to be able to walk properly tomorrow," Matt joked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, pulling him closer, Matt kissing your cheek. "Can I sleep with you?" you asked as you turned around to kiss his lips.

"Absolutely," Matt said confidently, pulling his pants back up. "If that means another round?" he smirked at you.

Such a tease.

[watermelonlovershigh]

In Sickness and in Health {part. 9} (housemate!harry series)

The Next Morning {part. 8} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: sorry this part took so long. it took me forever to write. it's quite a longer part so i hope you enjoy reading. don't forget to leave your feedback and reblog. also i think something went wrong with my taglist so if you weren't sent this from me tagging you, idk what happened. xoxo

This story contains: vomit (stomach bug), sickness comfort, fluff, crying, mentions of neglectful ex partners, accidentally dropping "L" bomb at the end

{ housemate!harry - friends to lovers - boyfriend!harry - softrry - teacher!harry - au!harry }

word count- 3,750

Harry unfortunately catches a stomach virus the day after you made your relationship official and you have to pick him up from work and take care of him for the rest of day, which he greatly appreciates.

Harry woke up on Monday morning and started getting ready for work as usual. Despite feeling a slight cramp in his stomach, he chose to disregard it. Just before leaving the house, he returned to your bedroom where both of you had slept the previous night and gently kissed his girlfriend's forehead. You were still asleep, having the flexibility to work from home, so there was usually no need for you to wake up at the same time as Harry. On his way out the front door, he grabbed a banana from the kitchen before making his way to his car.

--------------------------

The stomach cramps that Harry felt while getting ready for work are still present, and as he starts teaching his first class of the day, he realizes that they're only getting worse. Initially, the sensation in his stomach was similar to cramps, but as time goes on, it becomes more of a swirling feeling that makes it difficult for him to focus on his task of teaching. Eventually, Harry opts to handing out worksheets for his students so he can sit down and attempt to alleviate the ache in his stomach.

Ultimately, the plan falls through because he reaches a point where he senses he's about to vomit all over his desk, in front of all his students, if he doesn't immediately go to the bathroom. Harry quietly gets up from his desk and leaves the classroom without any explanation. If he had more time, he would have requested his neighboring teacher to supervise his class while he steps out, but he's worried there's no time for that.

Upon reaching the hallway, Harry quickens his pace towards the nearby teachers' bathroom. Fortunately, they were conveniently located not too far from his own classroom. Without wasting a moment, he swiftly enters the one toilet bathroom, closes the door, and securely locks it behind him. Rushing towards the toilet, Harry manages to make it just in time. As he stands in front of the somewhat grimy white porcelain, he began to throw up the lasagna you'd cooked the night before and remnants of the banana he had forced himself to eat this morning.

When Harry completes the gross task, he straightens up, breathe labored, and retrieves some toilet paper to cleanse his nose and mouth. Subsequently, he flushes the toilet to prevent any further discomfort from the sight of his own puke. Now, he faces a dilemma. Is it possible that his sickness was a one-time occurrence, allowing him to continue teaching for the remainder of the day? Or, should he call and ask you to pick him up? He decides to pick the first option, unless he begins to feel sick again later on.

--------------------------

Despite his best efforts, Harry can only make it until lunchtime before he finally gives in and calls you to come pick him up. He's been sick twice more since the first incident, and there doesn't seem to be any improvement in his condition. On top of Harry's queasy stomach, he now has a pounding headache and doesn't want to take the chance of driving himself home and getting into an accident. It's really frustrating because just yesterday you both decided to make your relationship official, and now Harry is feeling terribly ill. This was definitely not how he had planned today going.

He wanted to come home and canoodle you all evening. Make you dinner and begin working on his promise of all the places he intends on fucking you in. But instead, he's presumably got some sort of stomach bug that hinders any of that from happening.

Alone in his classroom while his students are at lunch, he pulls out his cellphone and dials up your number.

"Hello." you pick up with an upbeat tone, unaware of how the conversation is about to go. By looking at the time on your laptop, you assume Harry's on his lunch break and has a moment to talk. He's called you on his lunch break in the past, but now it feels different. You're boyfriend and girlfriend. His calls feel more meaningful now.

Harry nervously requests through the phone, "M' sorry to bother you, but could you come pick me up? I think I've caught some sort of stomach bug. I've thrown up three times already and m' not feelin' any better. I've also got a headache now. M' not sure if I can drive myself home."

You've never heard Harry sound so, bleh, since your time of knowing him. All the happiness he usually carries in his voice is gone and it breaks your heart to hear. You immediately set your laptop down and stand from the couch to slip a pair of shoes on. "Yeah Harry, I'll come and get you. Whereabouts do I need to park?"

"Just at the front entrance. I'll walk up to your car." he mumbles, not wanting to talk too much with a queasy belly.

"Okay, I'll be there shortly. Hang tight." you finish the phone call off before hanging up and grabbing your keys to head out the door. If Harry feels as bad as he sounded over the phone, you'd hate for him to stay any longer then he has to. Poor thing must be miserable.

--------------------------

When you reach the school's entrance, you see Harry standing there with his teacher's satchel hanging over his shoulder and a hand casually resting on his stomach. After placing the car in park, Harry quickly opens the passenger door and climbs in. He's ridden in your car just a few times before, mainly when you go grocery shopping or when grabbing a meal together.

As soon as Harry shuts the car door, he tries to get settled in car seat as best as possible while feeling like total shit. "Thank you for comin' to get me. Don't think I would've made it if I had to drive myself home."

Before placing the car back into drive, you coo over to him softly, "It's no problem, really. I hate that you're so sick. You were fine all weekend. When did you begin feeling sick?"

"While I was gettin' ready for work this mornin', I noticed my belly crampin' but ignored it. Then durin' my first class of the day, the crampin' turned into nausea before I ended up bein' sick in the teacher's toilet."

With the car in drive now, you begin pulling out of the school's lot and make the journey back to Harry's (yours too technically) house. "Awe, well I'll take care of you. No worries. In sickness and in health."

Harry abruptly turns his head to face you, worsening the throbbing headache he had been enduring, and instantly regretting his impulsive action. "What?" he responds with a touch of confusion, though internally filled with excitement over the end of your statement. "In sickness and in health? We only started datin' yesterday, we're not married." He refrains from expressing his true desire for future marriage.

Smiling playfully at the road, you reply, "I understand that, but I believe when you truly care about someone, you should stick to that commitment regardless of marriage. And since I'm your girlfriend and you're now my boyfriend, it means I care about you deeply and will take care of you, no matter the circumstances." What you really wanted to say is when you love someone alot, but didn't want to throw the love bomb in this conversation, afraid of how he'd react.

Harry feels as though he might throw up again and not from his stomach bug this time, but rather due to the pure admiration he feels towards you. Your endless compassion and selflessness towards him has the ability to make his heart feel as though it could burst at any given moment. He reciprocates these feelings wholeheartedly, even from the early stages of your relationship when you were just housemates and acquaintances. During that time, he took care of you when you were sick due to your period cramps, showcasing his genuine concern for your well-being during a time where you were most vularable.

--------------------------

After a ten-minute drive, you finally arrive home, and Harry silently expresses his gratitude towards the heavens above for helping him keep his stomach under control. He really didn't want to accidentally be sick in your car or have you pull over suddenly so he could spew on the side of the road. He's determined not to disgust his new girlfriend too much on your first full day together, although he's confident that you would have handled the situation with grace.

Getting out of the car, you instruct, "Go lie in bed and I'll bring you some medicine and plain crackers, alright. I'm gonna take care of you."

"Noo....." Harry whines as he drags his feet along the pavement to the front door, "don't wanna eat anythin'."

"But Harry, you need something on your tummy."

Huffing, he argues, "M' just gonna throw it back up and I don't wanna be sick again. I hate throwin' up."

You unlock the front door and step inside the living room, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys down. "I know baby but the medicine on an empty stomach may make you feel worse. Just a few nibbles is all I'm asking. And if you get sick afterwards, that's okay. At least I know you tried for me." Hey, you used the term 'baby' in a non sexual setting and it felt good. It felt right.

Harry makes his way to his bedroom and strips his work attire off before settling into the disheveled bed without a care in the world. Exhausted from the virus, he quickly falls asleep after laying his head on the pillow. His cat Pixie cuddled into his side. However, his slumber is short-lived as he's gently awakened, being asked to sit up and take the tablets that will hopefully help his sick tummy and headache. Along with the crackers you promised minutes prior.

He sits up and takes the pills with a glass of water but hesitates on the crackers. "Don't wanna." Harry whines again.

A smile escapes you as you observe his deeply furrowed brow. If you didn't know any better, you would assume Harry was a child, considering his current demeanor. Nevertheless, you don't hold it against him because you can be just as whiny when you're under the weather. Additionally, you empathize with the fear of being forced to eat something while suffering from an upset stomach. The fear of being sick again. "I understand Harry, but just try taking a small bite. That's all I'm asking for. Then I'll let you rest"

Reluctantly, Harry brings the cracker up to his mouth and takes a small bite, chewing it slowly before pushing the rest of the cracker aside. You take it from him and place it on his nightstand, in case he wants some later. Then you place his glass of water beside his bed, ready for when he becomes thirsty again. "Thank you. Now, rest. I'll be in the living room, finishing up the work I was doing before I came to get you. If you need me, call for me, okay. I'll hear you."

Laying down with the covers up to his chin, Harry mummers a quiet, "Okay." and you lean down to place a gentle kiss on his warm forehead.

--------------------------

Harry gets about an hour of rest before he awakens to his tummy swirling again. He lays there, trying to breath his nausea away, but to his luck, he only feels more and more sick as the minutes pass. So he finally makes the decision to get up and go to the bathroom. From your spot on the sofa, you hear footsteps on the creaky wood floor and then see Harry emerge from his bedroom and go inside the bathroom in the hallway.

You wait a few seconds, thinking he may have just needed to use the toilet, when you're suddenly startled by the sounds of dry heaving. Concerned, you decide to go check on your boyfriend. Approaching the bathroom door, you cringe at the sounds of Harry being sick. You have always found it difficult to be around someone who is vomiting or hearing those sounds, but you're determined to be there for Harry. With a deep breath, you turn the doorknob and cautiously enter the bathroom.

The scene in front of you is truly heartbreaking. Although you haven't known Harry for very long, less than a year in fact, during the time you've spent with him, you've never seen him in such a weak and vulnerable state. You long for the return of your cheerful and smiling boyfriend, not the sickly one with clammy skin, likely from a cold sweat. "Oh, Harry," you murmur softly as you approach the cabinet to retrieve a cloth to soothe his sweaty skin.

Taking a deep breath over the toilet bowl, he replies, "M' alright, m' alright."

Now with the cool, damp cloth in your hand, you kneel down on the hard floor and gently blot the rag on his pale skin. Being thoughtful, Harry reaches up to flush the toilet so you don't get exposed to the disgusting sight of his puke. "Do you feel better now?"

Harry shakes his head no before speaking with a raspy voice, due to him having gotten sick several times today, "Not really. Still feel sick to m' stomach. You can leave if you want. You don't have to be in here and watch me get sick. M' sure the sight is very unpleasant."

"Harry, I'm not leaving you, okay. I'm gonna be in here and take care of you. You took care of me a while back when I was throwing up from my period cramps. Told me not to be embarrassed because we all get sick from time to time. So now we're even."

Harry, too sick to reply, fixates his gaze on the toilet as you gently glide the wet cloth across his skin. Despite his desire to express how good that cloth feels, the rising bile in his throat hinders him. He straightens his posture, positioning his head over the toilet. Once his mouth begins to water, he realizes his impending fate. A loud retching sound escapes his throat, followed by the expulsion of whatever little remains in his stomach. In order to shield yourself from the sight of him vomiting, you instinctively turn away, fearing the potential of falling ill yourself.

Thankfully, Harry's hair is held back by one of the small black clips you'd left on the bathroom counter, so that's one less thing he has to worry about. After throwing up this time, you can hear him making further attempts to bring up more, but unfortunately, he's unsuccessful. Probably because he's already been sick multiple times today and his stomach is now completely empty of food.

After finally calming down, he agrees when you suggest, "Why don't we get you back in bed and I'll bring you more medicine? Sitting in front of the toilet seems to be making you feel worse." You assist Harry in standing up and hold his hand as you guide him towards his bedroom. Although he would have liked to brush his teeth, he's sadly too exhausted to even lift the toothbrush to his mouth

He gets settled back in bed and you hurry and grab the medicine to help soothe his nausea. Within minutes, you're back at his side, handing him the pills and his glass of water. He swallows the medicine slowly and begins to relax. As you're about to leave, Harry stops you. "Y/n...... could you, um, can you come cuddle me, please. Know you were workin' but um, I'd really like a cuddle." How can you say no to that.

Turning around, you smile gently and say, "Of course. Let me go switch my laptop off. I'll be right back." You go back to the living room and close your laptop, then return to Harry's bedroom. You climb into bed beside him, being careful not to disturb Pixie who has moved to the foot of her dad's bed, and scoot over to cuddle with your boyfriend of a day.

Harry shifts his position, resting his head on your chest, and starts apologizing. "M' sorry. This is not the way I envisioned today goin'. After the incredible day we had yesterday and us becomin' official, I had hoped for today to go the same. Planned to fulfill my promise of fuckin' you in at least one of the places I promised I would." Despite the fact that his words would have sounded amusing under different circumstances, his illness causes him to speak in a casual tone, unintentionally adding a touch of humor.

Running your fingers through his sweaty hair, you mutter, "Harry, don't apologize for being sick. You can't control if you get sick or not. And don't worry about that. Once you're sickness leaves, we'll have plenty of time to work on those promises, alright. Now get some rest and later I'll make you some soup. Wake me up if you feel sick again."

More than anything, Harry wants to reply with an agreement followed by the three words, 'I love you', but can't. Not yet. Not until he knows you're ready to hear that. So instead, he nods his head slightly against your chest and shuts his eyes, praying the medicine you gave him works and he doesn't get sick anymore today.

--------------------------

At seven that night, you awoke from your slumber. Sitting up in bed, you stretched and observed your boyfriend still in a deep sleep. He seemed less pale, indicating a positive change, although he remained slightly sweaty. Quietly, you got out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to start working on the soup you had promised Harry earlier, hoping he would have an appetite by now.

Upon completing the homemade chicken noodle soup, you carefully carried a bowl to Harry's room and helped him sit up to have his meal. You fed him, aware that his hands might be a bit shaky, and he is in complete awe of the kindness you have shown him today. He ponders, had you not made your relationship official yesterday, would you still be just as caring towards him. Of course, you would.

By this point in the day, his stomach had thankfully settled and he had even developed a slight craving for your scrumptious soup. After he had finished eating, you aided Harry in taking a bath. You prepared a warm bath and added bubbles to create an extra soothing atmosphere. Initially, your plan was to kneel on the bathmat beside the tub and assist him from there, but he insisted that you join him. Without hesitation, you joined him in the bath.

This signifies the first time you and Harry are sharing a bath, without any sexual implications. Inside the tub, you allowed Harry to lean back onto your body, gently caressing his tummy beneath the water. He expresses his satisfaction with a pleasurable moan and nearly dozes off against you. As the water temperature decreases, you begin to thoroughly wash his hair and body.

Breaking the quietness of the room, Harry whispers, "Thank you so much, Y/n. Like really, thank you. What you've done for me today means so much to me. More than you even understand." You stop the sponge along his skin when you realize he's actually getting emotional.

"Baby," you coo softly from behind him, "you don't have to thank me. I want to care for you. Did all your previous partners not want to care for you when you were sick?"

With tears welling up in his eyes, he proceeds to explain, "To be honest, not really. There was this one incident during my college years when I had caught a terrible cold. My girlfriend at the time expressed her reluctance to getting sick, so she never bothered to visit me in my dorm even once. Also didn't bother to call and check up on me. Then, about four years ago, I went on a date with my boyfriend at the time, Mark, to a restaurant. Unfortunately, I ended up with food poisoning and instead of offering any assistance, he simply drove me home and told me he would see me once I recovered. Hence, I don't expect a partner to do what you have done for me. It feels so nice to have someone take care of you when you're unwell that's not your own mother"

--------------------------

After the bath where you had some deep and vulnerable conversations, you assisted Harry out of the tub. After drying both yourself and him off with a towel, you helped him change into a fresh pair of briefs. You then directed him to lay down in your bed, as his sheets needed to be replaced due to them being soiled with sweat and germs from his stomach bug.

Turning off all the lights, you proceeded to your room, where Harry was lying down with Pixie nestled on his chest, enjoying the gentle strokes he gave her behind her ear as she purred contentedly. The bond he shares with his cat is truly adorable. He loves that cat more than anything, even you. Though you guess that's understandable since he's had that cat way longer than he's even known you for.

You take hold of the tv remote and select a movie on Netflix to watch until both of you nearly drift off to sleep once more. Harry is optimistic and hopeful that he will feel better tomorrow. He doesn't think he'll be able to return to work just yet, but is relieved that the nausea has subsided. Thankfully, the soup you prepared has stayed down, indicating a positive sign.

As your eyes grow heavy with fatigue, threatening to succumb to sleep, you feel Harry nestling himself closer to your side, followed by a hushed declaration of "Love you." In spite of your stillness, your eyes widen in surprise. Shifting your head slightly, you observe that Harry has already slipped into sleep, seemingly oblivious to his inadvertent admission.

Regardless of his true intentions, you are certain that this wasn't how he intended to convey his love for you. Now, you must find a way to approach this subject with him, hoping he doesn't get embarrassed or worse, deny the authenticity of his words.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @allthelovehes // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

 // @luv-flor7777  // @alohastyles-x // @tenaciousperfectionunknown  // @sleutherclaw // @siredtohybrid // @whoscamila // @a-strange-familiar  // @golden-elodie // @mrspeacem1nusone //  @goldenkhae // @lntwithhrry  // @shadowygladiatorlight  // @manifestrry  //@mendesblurb // @sunshinemoonsposts  // @depersonalizationsucks // @academiaghost // @zendayassimp // @reveriehs // @vsnnstuff // @dancinsunflowerkiwi // @quinnsgrapejuice // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @justlemmeholdyou // @hsonlyangelxo // @luvonstyles // @howdey

______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

"Do you love me?" {part. 10}

[twistersobsessed]

This is my first time requesting something so idk if I’m doing this right but I was wondering if you can do something like enemies with benefits where the reader finds out her period is late and she ends up taking a pregnancy test and it’s positive like angst with a happy ending but only if you’re comfortable writing about pregnancy I know some writers are not comfortable writing about also I love your work reading your stories make me happy 🫶🏽 and I’m sorry if the request doesn’t make sense 😭

Surprise | Scott x Reader

You weren’t even sure how it started. You and Scott hated each other. Or, at least, you were supposed to hate each other.

You were a Wrangler, one of the hillbillies. In theory, Scott hated you. And you hated Storm Par and everything they did. On paper you should hate Scott by extension. Not to mention how much of an asshole he was.

But here you were, clutching the sheets and biting your tongue to keep quiet as Scott pounded into you. Above you, like this, Scott didn’t look like the asshole that he was, he looked like a god. It annoyed you.

Little did you know, Scott only had sex with you in positions where he could see your face because he felt you were too pretty to be facing the other way.

It was late, and the Wranglers and Storm Par had stopped at the same motel for the night. It hadn’t taken long for Scott to knock on your door after everyone had settled into their rooms, as he did everytime your teams would stay at the same motel.

“Fuck,” Scott groaned. He was nearing his finish. You couldn’t hold back your moans any longer but you tried to keep quiet. It proved to be especially difficult when Scott reached down between you and began rubbing your clit. You gasped, back arching off the bed, too caught up in pleasure to notice the way Scott was looking at you with more than just lust in his eyes.

“Baby, are you close?” His voice was breathy.

“Yes,” you whimpered.

Scott knew your body well by now, and bracing himself on his elbow above you, he connected your lips while his free hand came up to pinch your hardened nipple. It sent a jolt of pleasure through you that pushed you over the edge.

Scott’s thrusts had grown sloppy until you were clenching around him so tightly as you came that he couldn’t move. It made him cum immediately, inside of you.

He kissed you deeply as you both came. He’d never done that before, and it felt very intimate.

He pulled back as he pulled out. “Could I spend the night?” He’d never asked that either.

“Sure,” you agreed, trying to be nonchalant and not get your hopes up.

Scott smiled and rolled off of you, pulling you on top of him instead. You lay on his chest, the skin to skin so intimate you could almost cry. You were really trying to not get your hopes up.

You felt safe, and fell asleep listening to Scott’s heartbeat.

When you woke up in the morning he was gone. But when you checked your phone, you had a message from Scott. “See you soon.” You heart the message.

A week passed without your paths crossing in a way where you could be alone. And your period was late. You and Scott had sex without condoms and he often finished inside you, because you were on birth control.

Fearing the worst, you begged Tyler to take you to the nearest pharmacy under the pretense that you needed pads and tampons, you made him wait in the truck so you could buy a pregnancy test too.

That evening, in your motel room, you were anxiously awaiting the results of the pregnancy test you had just taken. You paced the room until it was ready. You checked it and your heart dropped. Positive.

You quickly took another test. It came back the same way. Positive.

You were sitting on your bed, completely dissociating when your phone dinged. You glanced at it to see a text from Scott. “What room number?”

You didn’t answer, you were on the edge of a breakdown. You paced, you kicked, you cried, you punched pillows. Twenty minutes later your phone dinged again. “You could come to mine. It’s B6.”

You cried yourself to sleep without responding to Scott. You missed his final message. “Are you okay?”

You avoided Scott like the plague. He couldn’t know that you were pregnant. He would leave you in a heartbeat. You could get an abortion but you’d always wanted kids so maybe you’d become a single mother. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, but until you did, you dodged Scott.

He left you messages.

“Hello?”

“If this is some sort of silent treatment I really don’t like playing games.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Please just let me know you’re okay.”

You really weren’t okay. You were a mess. Which is probably why you didn’t notice Scott following you to your room the next time Storm Par and the Wranglers were at the same motel.

He looked around to make sure nobody saw him before he stopped you from closing the door with his foot and barged his way into the room.

“Scott!” You were shocked. “What the fuck?”

“Why have you been avoiding me?” Scott demanded to know with a scowl.

Maybe it was pregnancy hormones (could you even have those so early on?), but you were so sensitive and emotional you broke down in tears.

Scott immediately softened, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, hey, shh, what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle, a voice you’d never associate with Scott. You pushed back from his chest. “Stop acting like you care!”

Scott looked stunned. “What?”

“Stop acting like you care,” you repeated, your voice cracking.

Scott frowned. “I do care. Way more than I meant to.”

Tears continued to flow down your face. “I’m pregnant, Scott,” you blurted out.

Scott stilled. “Pregnant,” he repeated.

“I know you’re going to leave and that’s okay, I understand,” you blubbered.

Scott shook his head. “Why would I leave you?”

“Because it’s not like you like me, you just use me for sex and that’s not an accusation, I know what we are and I like it. No offense but you don’t really seem like the type to stick around.”

“(Name),” Scott said, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry that you think I don’t like you and am only using you for sex. Neither is true. I like you, and I like having sex with you because it’s you.”

You sniffled. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I’ve wanted you so bad,” you admitted, wiping your face.

Scott reached out to cup your face. “I wouldn’t mind calling you my girlfriend,” he grinned. “Is that you asking?” “Yeah.”

You could feel your heart pounding. “I would love to be your girlfriend.”

Scott leaned in and kissed you sweetly.

You kissed him back eagerly. When you finally pulled back, Scott rested his forehead on yours and looked down at your stomach. “We’re gonna have a baby,” he whispered.

“We’re going to have a baby,” you affirmed.

“I hope it’s a girl.”

[kamii-2]

“you thought wrong”

so sorry for not posting a chapter in almost 2 months but i hope you guys enjoy this long-ish chapter! a part of this chapter is based off of a fanfic i read a while ago, im not sure who wrote it or who the fic was about but if i ever find out who it is i will definitely give them a shoutout type thing. i’d also like to say this chapter is where things start to like really happen (idk how else to word it, hopefully you get what im saying) and im very sorry if the beginning of the sorry is confusing in any way, also act like they’re all old enough to drink.

warning(s): cussing, drinking, kissing

genre: fluff

pairing(s): kk arnold x reader

“you thought wrong” masterlist

==================================

chapter 3: “is this some kind of prank?”

==================================

the moment you accidentally opened the door then shut it, kk pulled away from the girl she was making out with and ran to ice, not telling the other girl what was going on. “ice, i think i messed up any chances i had with y/n. she just walked in on me making out with another girl.” kk told her best friend, trying to catch her breath from running down the flight of stairs. “why would you even make out with someone else if you wanted her so bad? are you actually stupid?” ice was mad that kk would even do something like that, wanting a girl then making out with another, it made no sense. “i haven’t done anything with anybody in a while and the girl offered so why not take up that offer?” kk said, half joking. kk thought about where you could’ve went, “she left second she came back down here.” ice said as she took a sip of her drink. “great.” was all kk said as she plopped down next to her best friend.

-

kk was all you could think about while you laid in bed, trying to sleep. after seeing her kissing another girl it made you realize how in love with her you were. you wished you were the one she was kissing, not some random girl at a house party who probably just wanted to use kk for sex. the image of her and the other girl kept replaying in your head again and again, you couldn’t take it anymore so you tried to watch tiktok to forget about kk and the stupid girl she was with. when you opened tiktok the first thing you seen was an edit of kk. “oh my God.” you said out loud as you got off the app and turned on your tv. you decided to just watch some netflix until you fell asleep.

when you woke up with a mild headache, you didn’t drink too much so your hang over wasn’t as bad as it usually was when you drank. you got up and took some medicine to ease the headache and drank water to help the pill go down your throat. you grabbed your phone and seen that symphony had texted you a few times asking if you were okay, you told her about how all you thought about was kk last night and how when you opened tiktok she was the first thing you seen. you two continued to text about what happened last night and other random things until symphony just randomly stopped texting you back for a good 20 minutes. you brushed it off and went on with your day, thinking she was busy or her phone died. in reality, symphony got a text from kk’s best friend, ice, on instagram.

-instagram direct messages-

@ice.brady: hey this is symphony right?

@symphony_roy: yea why?

@ice.bradyy: be honest, does y/n like kk bc kk likes her a lot and doesn’t believe me that y/n likes her back. @ice.bradyy: pls tell me i promise to not show kk like fr

@symphony_roy: yes 😭 ive been telling y/n since the day she told me that kk is gay and likes her back but her slow ass won’t believe me

@ice.brady: bro they act the same way exact same way 😭@ice.bradyy: anyway the reason im texting you is bc i think we should make them go in a blind date but don’t tell them the gender of the person bc i don’t want them to find out immediately

@symphony_roy: wait that’s a really good idea @symphony_roy: but we need to plan this more before we dive right into it

-real life-

after they planned out their entire plan, symphony went to your dorm. “hey.” you greeted as she barged in, using the spare key you had gave her. “so…. how do you feel about blind dates?” she asked while clasping her hands together, taking a seat on the couch next to you. “uhm, they’re okay i guess… why?” you reply while stopping what you were doing on your phone and side eyeing her. “because you’re going on one on monday.” symphony stated, “what?!?” you yelled while whipping your head to look at her, “i did not sign up for that!” symphony just stared at you, a small smirk on her face. “well, you’re going on it, i don’t care what you say.” symphony shrugged while getting up and leaving, “bye, remember you have a date in two days, i’ll send you the details later.” she closed the door.

-

when you woke up you seen kk had followed you back on every app you followed her on, seeing this made your stomach do backflips. you were a bit embarrassed because you had followed her for ages and she just now followed you back but you didn’t really care because atleast she followed you. as the day went on you kept stalking kk, being careful to not like any super old pictures on instagram or old tiktoks. you were stalking so hard you even found her mom’s facebook page. in the middle of your stalking, symphony barged in your room, “okay so what are you gonna wear tomorrow?” she asked while sitting at the edge of your bed, facing you. “i don’t know, probably jean shorts and a crop top.” you shrugged, “basic as hell. wear something more revealing, you gotta show off all that ass to them.” she half-joked, “bro then you find my outfit.” you sighed at her.

symphony went to your closet and started to look through everything to find the perfect outfit for you. after about 10 minutes she found a short, tight, light pink dress. you bought it last month and never got the chance to wear it. “it’s perfect, i’ll tell your date to wear something on the nicer side. you guys will look so cute together.” she smiled while holding the dress up. you were still unsure on the whole blind date thing but you were kind of excited for it, maybe you’ll meet your soulmate. you had thought about who it could be and you thought about it being kk but you weren’t sure if symphony would do something like that.

symphony stayed over for the rest of the day and didn’t go home until sunset. you two talked about life, ordered pizza, and watched a few movies sherrie she went back to her dorm. you were too nervous to go to bed, knowing that the next day at 7pm you would be meeting up with a potential complete stranger for dinner.

-

the whole day you were super nervous and could barely think straight. part of you was thinking about just not going but you know if you did that then symphony would rip you a new one. you were hoping the date was a girl and hoping it was kk but you knew it wasn’t gonna be her, kk was just making out with another girl 2 days ago, she wouldn’t switch that fast, or so you thought. at around 6:00 you started getting ready, putting on the dress and some white heels that made you an inch taller, and putting on light makeup. symphony showed up to your dorm at 6:34, “im taking you to the restaurant because im gonna sit a table or two away and watch yall.” she said with a huge smile on her face. you nodded in response and continued to get ready.

on the way there you were so nervous to where you thought you could throw up. the whole car ride you were silent and had short answers when symphony talked to you. “y/n its okay i promise. dont worry about anything. all you gotta do is meet this person, talk to them, eat dinner, then you’re done.” symphony reassured you, keeping her eyes on the road. you sighed and tried to think on the bright side of it, if you didn’t like this person then you’d probably never have to talk to them again. as you got closer you got more and more nervous but you kept thinking about what symphony said and it helped it go down.

when you two got to the restaurant you immediately got out and walked into the restaurant. symphony pointed, “your date’s already here.” you stopped dead in your tracks and whipped your head towards her. “is this some kind of prank?” you asked while wide eyes. “nope. your date is kk.” symphony laughed while pushing you towards the table. “symphony you’re fucking lying.” you said while trying to resist her pushing you. “i’m not, now go sit down and talk to her.” she said while pushing you again and walking away. you sighed before slowly walking over to the table that kk was at. when she looked up from her phone she paused for a second before she realized that you were her blind date. when you sat down it was quiet for a second before she said something. “hey y/n. how’s life been?” she said, not knowing what else to say. “it’s been fine, how about you?” you asked her, “good. did you know that i was your date?” kk asked with a smile. “no, symphony literally came into my dorm and told me that i was going on a blind date, didn’t tell me anything else.” you two laughed and continued to talk.

the night went very well, you two talked about everything under the sun and flirted a lot. symphony and ice were watching from a few tables over and talked about how cute you two were together. “i’m glad they made us go on this date.” you admitted while admiring kk, looking her up and down. “i agree, maybe i can get your number or something?” kk asked, “yea.” you say as you proceed to tell her your number. after she got your number the flirting was nonstop, now she was certain you liked her back. the rest of the night you two continued to talk about random stuff and even talked about going on another date.

at free you guys paid for the food snd drink you both went over to symphony and ice’s table. “hey guys.” ice said with a smirk, “do yall wanna go to a club or something?” symphony asked while standing up. “sure why not.” you said, “okay i’ll send you the address.” symphony said, talking to ice. ice nodded and you all went to the cars. “so how was it?” symphony questioned you the moment you both got in the car, “we were flirting the whole time and she asked for my number.” you answered, “aren’t you glad i made you go on this date?” she smiled while pulling out of the parking lot and driving to the bar, you nodded and told her more about the date.

after you got your ID’s checked, kk grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bathroom. “what’s wrong?” you asked when you reached a stall. “nothing.” she mumbled before kissing you, you immediately kiss back. the kiss felt magical, the way your lips fit together perfectly made your stomach do frontflips. you relunctsntly pulled away for air, “damn.” was all kk could say as she went back for more.

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i’m so sorry this took like 2 months to get out but i still hope you enjoyed!! i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[soulidarity]

Rafayel and reader did that it was readers first time but in the morning she gets up early she had an important class so she leaves and she forgets to text Rafayel and Rafayel would feel very anxious?!? Idk if it makes any sense

left alone

hurt/comfort | rafayel x mc / reader | 694 words

as she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a purple tuff of hair on her chest. her face softened as she played with it for a moment, remembering the events of last night. it had been such a meaningful experience. wanting to thank him with breakfast, the girl started getting up, careful not to disturb her partner.

as she checked her phone, she realized the time. she was about to be late for work. quickly getting dressed and leaving a goodbye kiss, she made her way out of the artists house.

a few hours later, the lemurian woke up, feeling unusually cold as he realized where this lack of warmth was coming from. he turned around and saw that his bed was empty as he recalled everything that had happened.

had she really just left him? used him? was that all she wanted from him? everything that their relationship had been building up to be up until this point was for nothing?

As the tall man stood up and looked over his house for any sign of his partner, he grew even more disappointed, but not of her but of himself. had he not been enough? if she just wanted that type of relationship, she could've said so. he just wanted her in any way he could. even if it was at his expense.

the day went on, and he laid on his bed. time moving fast, but he paid no mind to it. maybe thomas had called him a couple of times, it couldnt have been anything important since he didn't burst through the door while scolding him.

he tossed and turned in the bed, her scent surrounding him, making his chest tighten. After a bit, he fell asleep again.

"...yel"

"...fayel"

"Rafayel!"

He turned around as he woke up, taking in his surroundings.

"Did you sleep all day? Thomas texted me saying he couldn't get in touch with you."

"So you pay attention to Thomas' texts but can't even leave me a note?"

"What? What do you mean-?"

"You left me."

Her teasing smile dropped as it dawned on her what she had done.

"Oh my god I... Rafayel I swear it wasn't like that"

"It's fine," he interrupted, sitting up on the bed and looking down. "If you... want to see me in that way and only in that way... It's fine, just please..." Strong hands held her wrists. "dont leave me."

Both of them sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity, the clock on the wall seemingly unmoving.

At the lack of response, the lemurian looked up to see her holding back tears. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I just left you there! And you're just... accepting it?!" She shook off his hold and stepped off the bed.

"Why are you getting angry at me?"

"Im not angry at you, Yel. Im angry at myself. What happened last night was really special to me and I really wanted- want to thank you. But I woke up late and Tara had been calling me so I ran to work. I am... truly sorry."

He stood up, chuckling at her tear stained face.

"It's okay, my love." he caressed her cheek, her hands quickly flying to hold his. "It's not. You've told me countless times how scared you are of me leaving, and it feels like I continue to make that fear come true. And I'm really sorry... I... wish I could give you what you're looking for-"

Her rambling was interrupted by soft lips pressed against hers. It lasted a few seconds before he pulled away.

"I should really buy you a lip balm" her mouth was slightly open in bewilderment as he chuckled.

"It's really okay. Both of us need to work on our things. You should be better at letting me know when you have to leave, and I should be better at letting you leave. As much as I wish to have you for myself, you have responsibilities, and you love your job, I can't take you away from it."

"To make it up to you, how about I make dinner?" she smiled.

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thank you so much for the request! english isnt my first language so i apologize for my mistakes.