shouyuus · 2 days ago
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doctor, doctor
zayne; 3,377; fluff and smut, no "y/n", knowing use of sex drugs, handjob, oral (f!receiving), face riding, shockingly soft intermission, missionary, internal creampies, banter (it's zayne duh), needy!zayne
summary: zayne volunteers as a guinea pig to test out an antidote to a new love drug. spoiler alert: the antidote sucks.
a/n: phew! i haven't written this much porn in... /checks watch/ well ever really. but im not that mad about it! it's a genre i've always felt a bit weak in so im glad to get some practice :) pls enjoy!
aphrodite made me!! masterlist
─── 黎深 YOU KNOW SOMETHING’S WRONG the second he gets home. There’s a bright flush to his cheeks, a glassy look to his eyes, and he reaches out to brace himself against the counter almost as soon as he’s through the door, sucking in a deep breath.
“Z-Zayne? What’s wrong?” you rush up to him, reaching out to press a palm to his cheek, lashes fluttering as you pull it away, startled. “Oh my god, you’re burning up!”
“No — it’s fine. I’m fine.” He tries to push you away, but can’t help the soft groan that leaves his lips as he nuzzles into your touch. You frown, letting him press into the palm of your hand before he turns to drop a kiss to your skin, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “It’s… not what you think.”
“Not what I…” you blink up at him, worry slowly being eclipsed by a trembling uncertainty.
Something’s not right, you think, but judging by the way he’s still able to hold himself steady, he’s not that sick. So then —
“Ah… fuck —” he curses, leaning forward to bury his nose into your shoulder, tugging you to him in a sudden embrace that has you squeaking, startled by the strength of his hold. And you’re not imagining it; up this close, you can feel his thready heartbeat reverberating through his chest to yours, and his arms around you — is he… trembling?
“Zayne?”
It’s so rare that he curses so easily, so openly. Usually, this kind of language is reserved for the bedroom but —
You go still in his arms, heat washing up the back of your neck into your cheeks as you feel the unmistakable hardness against your hip. Your mind grinds to a startling halt as you try to reconcile these two pieces of strange, incompatible information.
He’s sick… but he’s hard?
“Sorry — I just —” he tries to pull away, shaking his head as if to clear it but his eyes are still glazed when he stumbles back and lets himself sag against the closed front door. You let your eyes take stock of him — his ruddy cheeks and fluttering lashes, the shiver in his limbs, the clench in his jaw as he looks anywhere but at you.
“Zayne. What’ going on?”
He almost hisses at the sharp edge to your tone.
“There’s a new drug out on the market,” he says, his voice thin even as he cards a hand through his hair and tries to take a steadying breath. “It’s… being sold underground, and it’s a potent —” he swallows, tugging at his collar, and it’s only then that you notice the thin sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, ���— a potent love drug.”
Your eyebrows skyrocket as you blink up at him.
“A… love drug?”
Zayne sighs, frowning slightly as he jerks at his tie, pulling the knot loose to let it hang around his neck as he thumbs at the top button of his shirt. His fingers, usually so quick and nimble, seem strangely uncoordinated. And after a second, you reach out to gently swat his hand away, popping the top button for him, blushing as he hisses out a breath and lets his head thump back against the door.
“Yes,” he answers, his voice clipped as he tries to look anywhere but at your face. “Our R&D department has been developing a cure and —”
“And?” you ask, letting your finger trace down the thin band of his exposed chest to catch on the next button of his shirt.
“And…” he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he purses his lips, “they needed willing participants to —”
Understanding floods through you like a wash of cold water. You let out a disbelieving laugh.
“You volunteered to test the antidote,” you say, staring up at his flushed face, his sweat-slick skin, the unfocused fracture to his eyes, the way his pupils are blown so wide they look almost entirely black.
You lick your lips, feeling another wave of heat crest through you as tingles shoot down your spine at the thought.
“Yes,” he answers again, sounding aggrieved and relieved both that you’ve finally understood.
“But…” you let your words trail off, letting your eyes rake down his trembling body and back up again.
Zayne sighs, shaking his head, “Well, it’s a work in progress.”
“Mm,” you hum, biting back a laugh that you know wouldn’t be entirely appropriate, given the desperate look on his face. Still, that forbidden knot had started to twist in your gut as you assess the situation.
It’s not every day that chance delivers your boyfriend so pliant and willing to your literal shared front door. And you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“So?” you say, taking half a step back and folding your arms, reveling in the way he tips forward immediately to chase your warmth. “How do we —” you wave a hand towards him, feeling a strange, impossible fit of giggles threatening to spill from you at the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Zayne slates you a rueful look before leaning back to pinch at his nose bridge.
“T-the researchers say that the effects —” he pauses to take another deep breath. You can’t help noticing the increasingly obvious bulge in his work slacks and you feel your own thighs tense as the knot in your stomach twists just a tad tighter. “The effects should wear off on their own in a few hours but…”
“But?” you prompt, lacing your hands behind your back as you teeter on the balls of your feet, feeling an ever-familiar tingle race from the nape of your neck to the tips of your toes.
“But… there’s nothing much to do except to —” Zayne’s fingers twitch as he forces himself to open his eyes and stare at a nondescript point over your shoulder, “to ride it out, as they say.”
At this, you break — you fall into a fit of giggles that has Zayne sighing again as he pushes himself off the door and making his unsteady way to the bedroom.
“W-wait! Where’re you going?” you ask, tugging at his arm.
He twists to stare at you, “I — to bed. Or I can sleep on the couch tonight if it’ll make you more —”
You roll your eyes and yank him down for a kiss. He can’t even pretend to protest as he moans and melts into the heat of your mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and feel his palms gripping at your waist, tight, and then tighter.
“Y’know… for a smart guy… you’re really kind of clueless sometimes.”
“Y-yeah?” Zayne asks, his breath hot against your lips. You nod, letting him tug you both back towards the bedroom, him nearly stumbling in his haste, you biting back another fit of giggles as he sits down hard on the edge of the bed and slots you between his legs, running his hands up and down the backs of your legs, fingers dancing towards the lace trimming of your panties.
“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to help you?” you ask, your voice low.
He lets out another thick groan as you cup his cheeks and tilt his head back to look at you.
“I — I don’t — I thought that maybe —” he stutters, but you shake your head.
“C’mon doc,” you say, grinning as his eyes narrow. You give his chest a light push and watch, satisfied, as he allows himself topple back onto the mattress. “Tell me where it hurts.”
He sucks in a breath between his teeth, staring at you with a look of such unadulterated love that you find yourself almost getting shy. Almost. You crawl onto the bed, nudging apart his legs, walking your fingers up this thighs as he jerks, head falling back into the pillows.
“Please…” the plea leaves his lips parted, and you feel the heat pulse between your own legs, feel your mouth water as you look down at the pliant, panting form of Zayne’s body, spread out on the bed, his chest rising and falling at quick intervals as he watches you from beneath hooded eyes.
Briefly, you consider teasing him, but disregard the thought after realizing that he’d probably driven home feeling much like this. And you reach up to tug loose the belt, making quick work of his trousers, pulling down his boxers to reveal his cock — thick and leaking so much precum that your hands come away sticky.
“A-ah — fuck.” Again, he swears, as you tentatively wrap your fingers around his girth, and it’s not the first time you’ve done this, nor will it be the last, but it never fails to surprise you (just a little) how thick he is in your hands — how your fingers don’t reach all the way around.
You give him a few solid pumps, feeling the angry veins pulse beneath your palms as you try to work up a tempo, his hips jumping as he lets out a string of deep, throaty moans that have you clenching around nothing.
“Wait — wait —” he reaches for you, his thighs jumping slightly as your rhythm slows, and he hisses out a long breath, his brows furrowed as you tease your thumb around the underside of his cock hood, allowing yourself a tiny, devious grin as he whimpers high in the back of his throat.
“Yes, doc? Did you have any… complaints?” you drag your tongue across your lips before leaning down and letting your hot breath fan over his purpling head, feeling the heat between your own legs spread through you as thick beads of precum ooze from his slit.
“Come — come here —” he motions up the bed and you cock your head, glancing back down at what you’re certain is quite the painful erection.
“You don’t want…” you tighten your hold around his shaft as he catches his lips in his teeth and groans.
“I — I do. But I want —” he swallows, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second, “I want to taste you.”
Desire curls solid at the base of your spine as you feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Zayne’s never been anything but a devout lover, and you’d often reflected that it really does pay to have a boyfriend who has a truly occupational knowledge of human anatomy.
“Yeah?” you ask, your own voice going breathy as you inch up the mattress, his hands settling so easily on the plush of your thighs, his eyes flitting up and down your body almost as if he doesn’t quite know where to look. You lift up your skirt and tug off your panties, with the full intention of lowering yourself slowly, but with a wretched moan, Zayne pulls you down over his face hard enough for you to gasp, your weight tipping forward so hard that you have to brace your hands on the backboard to stop yourself from toppling right over.
You feel his tongue lick a long strip along the seam of your cunt, the sting of his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you over his mouth, groaning into the sopping heat of you, his tongue already pushing into you as he gives your clit a hard suck that has your mind fizzing out into tv static.
“Z-Zayne — oh fuck —!”
He strains against you, pressing his face so far into you you’re almost afraid he’s going to suffocate, but he only holds you tighter when you try to pull away, his mouth chasing your puffy lips. You grind yourself against his face, feeling his nose nudge at your clit as he sinks his tongue ever deeper into you, fucking it into you with a perverse need.
And it doesn't take long like this, not when he's so intimately aware of all your softest parts, all your most sensitive places.
“I — ah — ah — I’m s-so —” you stutter, as you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, the coil twisting as thin tendrils of heat start to skitter up through your limbs and you feel your orgasm building inside you.
Zayne lets out a debauched moan, letting it rumble from his mouth straight into your cunt and it’s enough to have your eyes fluttering shut as you break over his mouth, whimpering, hips stuttering as the white-hot fire chases washes through you in a great wave, leaving you feeling boneless and slightly winded.
Zayne pulls away panting, licking his lips, his eyes dark as an oil spill, completely devoid of light as he stares up at you, his gaze more licentious than you’ve ever seen it before. Even in the champagne-bubble weightlessness of your post-orgasmic haze, you recognize the crystalizing need in his movements as he releases your thighs, his handprints inked into your skin, red and fresh — you’re sure they’ll still be there tomorrow.
“H-how do you want me?” you ask, your voice a little slurred as he reaches up to wipe a thumb along his bottom lip, collecting the remnants of your slick there, only to lean in and press his mouth to yours. You groan against him, the messy tang of your own juices sharp on your tongue as he kisses you, pressing you back into the mattress till you’re pinned beneath him.
“Just like this…” he whispers, and you marvel at the restraint still in his actions, even as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothing, tossing them off into the careless dark of the room.
There’s a moment, caught in-between one kiss and the next, where he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes so soft, his expression unguarded, where you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see yourself through his eyes, and a tender warmth spreads through you as you realize that this is what love has always meant to feel like. There have been fireworks, yes, and whirlwinds. There’ve been storms and sunny days. But there will always be moments like this, caught in the almost light of a moonless night, when you are so much more than the sum of your parts, added together.
When your bodies are more breath than air, skin and share, and all the parts of you that you might’ve wanted to hide from the world are here, collected in the negative space between your bodies, held and loved like buried treasure.
“I love you,” he says, quietly, simply.
You gasp as you feel him pushing into you, his cock stretching you till you’re nearly breathless.
“I — I love you too.”
Zayne nods, fucks into you till he’s bottomed out, and though you can feel his arms trembling with the effort, he holds still to let you adjust. And it’s not till you give him a tiny nod that he puffs out a held breath and pulls back to fuck right back into you again. You keen, head tossing back into the mess of sheets, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock as it drags along your clenching walls.
“I don’t — I won’t be able to —” he can’t make out a full sentence, but you don’t care, just the size and weight of him are enough to make your vision blinker out at the edges.
“Mm — h-harder — please Zayne —” and its his name more than anything that proves his undoing. He lets out a clipped grunt before straightening and pulling your legs up, shifting your hips till you’re flush against him.
“Y-yeah — I’ve got you —” he gives you calf a quick kiss before rucking his hips down, his cock ramming into your g-spot hard enough for you to see stars. And then hammering into you with a desperate speed, chasing his own pleasure and it’s all you can do to keep from being tossed over the edge, too far, too fast.
“Yes — yes — yes!” you’re babbling something, nails scrabbling at his arms, his chest, his back, at anything you can reach as he pummels your abused hole, bullying his cock deeper and deeper into you till you clench around him, your orgasm blazing through you even as he shows no signs of slowing down.
“It’s — you feel — so — tight —” his pace stutters, his voice breaking over your name as he hoists one of your legs over his hips, “I’m —”
You nod, reaching up to tug a strand of hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead.
“I-inside — you can — want you to fill me up —”
Zayne keens, thrusting forward one last time before you feel him pulsing inside you, the warm spill of his cum stuffing you full till you can feel the remnants leaking down the curve of your ass. You bite your lips, swallowing hard as Zayne jerks into you a few more times till he finally stills, the pair of you both panting, your bodies sticky now with too many bodily fluids to count.
You let out a breathy laugh as he hisses, casting you a reproachful look.
“Y-you’re still hard…”
He sighs, nodding, “Yes… it’s one of the… more tedious side effects of the drug.”
He makes to pull out but you stop him, tugging him into your chest and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
“You need to tell your R&D department that their antidote is very ineffective.”
Zayne chuckles, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, the pair of you now curled into each other, his arms around you, his twitching cock still pressed inside you.
“Yes, I’ll be sure to send them a memo.”
You nuzzle further into his chest but your eyes catch on the clock hanging on the opposite wall and you frown.
“It’s only been… 43 minutes?”
Zayne glances at the clock as well before turning his gaze back towards you.
“Seems so.”
You lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry as you feel him throb once more inside you.
“How long… did you say the effects last for again?”
Zayne heaves a very serious-sounding sigh even as you adjust yourself to be sitting over his hips, his cock sheathed inside you as you plant your hands on his chest.
“The R&D department said anywhere from a few hours to…” he lets his words trail off, a devious glint flashing behind his eyes, “in the worst cases, a few days.”
You shiver as he casually settles his palms on your hips, rocking you forward and back. You let out a hitched moan as your over-sensitive clit drags along the skin of his lower abdomen and his cock jerks inside you.
“D-days?” you echo, swirling your hips around in a soft figure 8 that has him sucking in a harsh breath, his brows furrowing with pleasure.
“Y-yeah… I’m assuming your offer of help still s-stands?” he does his level best to keep his voice dry, but his breath hitches as you pull yourself up the length of his cock before slamming back down. And already, there’s that self-same hunger eclipsing the light in his eyes as he stares down at the place where a thick ring of white has formed around the base of his cock, more liquid seeping out of you with every moment you make.
“Mm — maybe I’ll need a f-few breaks but —” you whimper as he thrust up into you, his thighs clenching beneath you, “like you said w-we just n-need to ride it out, right?”
Zayne purses his lips in concentration as he roots his feet into the bed before fucking up into you once, twice, three times, bouncing you on his cock with the sheer strength of his legs and thighs.
“Right.”
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all taglist pt 1: @faeryminnyx @trashkitty @sorapricots @tricia816xoxo @nayo3ns @veetallla @notfr0mh3r3 @sh4nn @animecrazy76 @celestialforce @celestialzdiviner @m00nchildwrites @glitching-wren @ivana013-blog @rafayelsgf @pikachuzhc @angellinnie @stardewy @zombigirlfriendsblog @storyland-ofstars @xxfaithlynxx @crazy-ink-artist
all taglist pt 2: @wowunreal @boobearymuch @livonianmaia @celestialmoni @colorfulgardenerduck @bunnylechef @rikiwaify-blog @deepspacewithrafayel @nogitsune-the @carrotsandkoos @stardustwtx @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies @simpingdailyforthem @love-and-deepstrays @small-fry28
the rest of the tags will be in the reblog!
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ddejavvu · 2 days ago
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Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333
"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.
"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.
Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.
"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."
Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.
"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."
"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."
"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."
Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.
"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.
"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"
"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.
"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."
"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.
"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."
"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."
You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.
"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."
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thecoochiefairy · 3 days ago
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━━ 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑒𝑠 .ᐟ toji.
warnings 𑄽𑄺 21.5K pregnancy kink, a LOT of dialogue ngl, third person pov, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough sex, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, daddy kink, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, dad! toji, sweet! toji, talks of self-image, aggressive toji, daddy toji, baby megumi, minors aren’t welcome!
song to play while listening; 𝑠𝑛𝑜𝑜𝑧𝑒 ; 𝑆𝑍𝐴
━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i don’t wanna get all self deprecating, this didn’t feel like my best work, but this is the second part to the first fic ever wrote, and i missed my seioni, toji + megumi pairing. it’s kinda long. sorry. i had to. enjoy, love you. 🫶🏽
AN INTERNAL THUMPING DRONES ALONG HER EARS AS HER SLENDER EYES GLANCE UP AT THE SCREEN. The gel along her stretched belly is cold against her skin, the hand of the doctor continuing to rub gently as she stared at the life growing inside of her. 
Her mind had been everywhere to say the least. This was the first time she’d been to an appointment by herself, having her friends hold a trembling hand as she got news about the journey of her pregnancy. She was trying to keep her attention along the doctor's voice as her anxieties whipped around her body like a tornado. But as the nurse walked in with a forced smile, purposely flipping the paper over into the doctor's hand, her attentiveness peaked. 
Her heart could’ve dropped as the same nurse gave her a rub to the shoulder, thoughts immediately going to the worst. Those worries pulled all together in preparation for an anxiety attack as the doctor placed his glasses down to look along the words, giving a hum at the results. 
Although she wanted to scream, she pulled it together and filled the silence within the room as she politely asked, “Uh…is something wrong, Doctor?”
The doctor glances up at her, giving a small smile to reassure her with a shake to his head, “No, nothing’s wrong, Seioni. The baby is fine as well,” he pats her thigh, seeing as that causes her to release the breath she’d been holding before he continues, “The only… hiccup would be that your blood pressure seems to be higher than normal.”
“Oh,” she says softly, “I didn’t realize.”
What was she supposed to say? She felt like she was in trouble, unsure of how to process that information. She hadn’t been feeling too bad—a couple of headaches here and there—she figured it was just her lack of eating. 
The doctor hums as he glances back at the paper, “How have you been feeling lately? How has the pregnancy been on you so far?” He asks, looking back at her.
“Good! I mean—as good as I can be,” she watches as the nurse comes to wipe her stomach, softly thanking her as she sits up. She knew that she might not have been telling the entire truth, but this also wasn’t a therapy session. Rubbing her belly had become a nail-biting replacement, seeing as the doctor then asks, “Do you still own your tattoo shop?” 
“Yeah, but I don’t work anymore. My fiancè takes care of everything, but for the most part the shop runs itself,” she briefly explains. 
The doctor nods understandingly. This still wasn’t a therapy session, but being her primary doctor and having that relationship with her, he couldn’t help but pry just a bit. 
 He hums, “That’s good to hear…” glancing at the ultrasound before looking back at her, “How has your home life been? How is your fiancé?”
That was the burning question. Officially being in a relationship with Toji taught her what it was like to be with a man, it scared her to open herself up to someone in a way she hadn’t in years. Not only did she never expect herself to actually end up with him, she damn sure didn’t expect to become a maternal figure to his son—Megumi—who was now freshly two-years old, hopping along for the ride of the relationship between his father and ‘Oni’’ as he’d call her. They all experienced a love between one another that blossomed as months passed—but that didn’t mean it didn’t have its…faults. 
Seioni sighed, tracing her fingers lightly against her belly before she replied, “My fiancé has a son, he just turned two. We’ve been potty training him and it’s been…a mess, no pun intended,” she lightly giggles, “He fusses a lot now since we’re trying to get him off of his pacifier, and he has trouble sleeping. I’ve also been trying to plan a wedding and baby shower by myself because my fiancè wants to make sure I have everything my way. On top of that I feel like a beluga whale, I can’t keep food down because I vomit at certain smells since my nostrils are similar to a dog now—do you know what dirt smells like? Seriously, I mean, have you smelled it? It's awful—but uh—As far as me and my fiancè, he’s been working a lot so…I don’t see much of him at times,” she realizes as everything sounds overwhelming, muttering a soft, “Sorry.”
The doctor gave a sympathetic look, understanding her situation. He sighs before he speaks again, giving a gentle smile to her, “You have a lot on your plate. You know what you’re experiencing are symptoms of stress, correct? That’s what’s causing your high blood pressure.”
Seioni knew that she could be a bit neurotic, but she didn’t realize that these things were genuinely putting her in a state of distress. Megumi’s growing pains, Toji’s lack of interest within the wedding and baby shower, and their lack of intimacy whether it was in the bedroom or out of it. Maybe she just needed some dick—or a box of tissues. 
“What does your husband do for work?” 
She blinks, not ever having an answer for that question. She then convinced herself, “Uh—contractor. Yup, contractor.” 
“Maybe you should suggest for him to take some time off of work then. But regardless, this is a beautiful situation. You have a baby girl coming, you're planning a baby shower, and your wedding will be soon, correct?” 
“Yes, I’m thinking Italy,” she nods, seeing as that makes the doctor warmly smile. 
She thinks to herself, this is a happy time. So why the hell did she feel so…mundane? 
She blinks, raising her eyes up to him as she nods, “I guess I didn’t realize I was stressing myself out that badly. Am I…harming my baby?” She worries, eyebrows furrowing as she lets out a deep breath.
“No, no. You’re not harming your baby in any way. I’m just worried for you. Both mentally and physically.” He reassured her, “It seems your blood pressure is fine now and everything else is normal. You just need to make sure you don’t stress yourself out anymore as your pregnancy progresses. Let me ask, are you and your fiancè intimate?”
She raises her eyes, feeling her face go lightly warm as she repeats, “Intimate as in…sex? Is that really okay during pregnancy?”
He gave a small laugh, a little flustered that it was even a question as he soothes, “Yes, dear. It’s perfectly fine, healthy for you and the baby. It also increases the production of oxytocin—“ he pauses as he sees her face fill with confusion before he explains, “The ‘love’ hormone, essentially. It reduces pregnant stress, improves sleep, and temporarily masks aches and pains. Sex, bonding, and an increase in endorphins help a pregnant woman sleep better to combat exhaustion and other griping pregnancy symptoms.” 
When he sees that she still has a hesitation along her face, he gives her a gentle touch along her shoulder as he says, “No stressing, okay? How about I prescribe you some Lexapro? You can take them as needed, not anything you have to worry about fitting into your schedule.”
Seioni immediately knew that if Toji wasn’t such a damn workaholic, he’d be under her like a baby attached to a nipple—already having a small disagreement about her taking anything that wasn’t her prenatals. He’d dealt with a pregnant woman before, wanting to make sure she was as healthy as possible. But shit, he didn’t know everything, did he?
“…I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have. I’d just be worried if taking anything other than my prenatal might be harmful,” she tells him honestly.
He nods, understanding her concern. He sits down on a stool after he pulls it near her before breaking down, “That’s normal. Let me reassure you that Lexapro— a SSRI—Selective-serotonin-reuptake inhibitor— is safe for both pregnant women as well as their babies. It’s been shown that only 1% of the medication is passed on to the fetus during delivery, and that is an extremely small percentage. It’s deemed completely safe.”
She lets out a deep breath, realizing that she’s once again stressing herself out about things that don’t have to be overwhelming to her. This should’ve been the time where she rested, being seven months pregnant made her feel like she was going to explode. 
She then nods her head as she exhales, “Thank you so much, doctor. Me and my little boo boo feel so blessed to have you,” she gives him a soft smile, rubbing her belly happily.
 “It’s my pleasure. You’ be sure to take care of yourself, okay?” He teased her a little, standing back up on his feet, “I’ll call that prescription in and the pharmacy should have it ready for you by the time you get there,” As he goes to help her off the table, he adds on, “Oh, and your fiancé should be expecting a call from me as well.”
“Uh, why? If you don’t mind me asking?” She places her hand along the bottom of her stomach, letting out a tired breath as she pulls herself up to stand.
The doctor chuckled lightly as he saw the small struggle and helped her stand, saying, “It’s nothing worrisome. Just gonna let him know about your prescription,” He tells her, “He’ll need to know about your blood pressure as well.”
Shit. She was hoping that she could at least talk to him about the prescription first, knowing that when he meant something, he meant it. She pulls her smile lines up to hold a happy expression on her face, nodding as she repeats, “Yeah, of course. Thank you again.” 
The moment she leaves the doctors office, she soaks in his words, taking them into consideration. This should’ve been the happiest time for her. The only stress should have been picking out names, choosing colors for her bridesmaids dresses, and creating a registry for the perfect gifts. Another issue she’d been facing was the insecurities she felt within her own body changing. Her nose was wider than usual, her hips were now actually child bearing, and her belly walked in the room before she did. What if she wasn’t attractive anymore? 
On the opposite end, Toji drowned in her scent, wanting to eat her alive each time he saw her—if only she knew that. She wasn’t sure why her face was warm as she clutched the olive green baby doll dress, standing within Victoria Secret as the cashier rudely eyed her belly more than she needed to. 
“‘Fuck are you looking at?” She said before she thought about it, the cashier quickly dropped her eyes back to the lingerie as she shoved it into the bag. 
Finally making her way back home, she thanks the babysitter as she sends her off for the rest of the day. She thinks to herself as she’s within the kitchen taking out the steak that she plans to cook, realizing these issues wouldn’t feel as big if she had Toji’s full support. 
It's not that he wasn’t trying to help. He just wanted everything her way, she was his princess. He assumed that letting her handle these tasks would keep her busy since she complained about not working. She hoped that once Megumi went to bed, she could have some…alone time with Toji. But as she was now sat across from Megumi who refused to pee in the toilet, her track of time was off, and she wasn’t sure if her mission would be a success. She sat on the phone with her mom, listening to her complain about her older brother’s constant circle of women he presented to their father and aunt.  Even through her amusement, she couldn’t help that she deeply missed them all, although they could sometimes be…something. 
“Your stupid-ass-big-headed ass brother has brought the second girl over here this week, talking about ‘This the one for real Ma’,’ boy, please. And the girls be’ cute, too! If only they had a brain. I tell them to run! Shoes off! Barefoot! Why didn’t you just let me ship him off to your place and move into your old condo?”
“Because he would have to pay rent, which would require him to have a job,” she emphasizes, “You let Nova eat, sleep and shit in your house for free. If you gave his’ ass responsibility he’d explode.”
“What you’ tryna say, lil’ girl? Don’t make me smack you through this phone.”
“Hitting a pregnant woman? Have some decorum,” she chuckles, “But you know exactly what I’m saying, momma. That’s your pride and joy, you need to take him off the nipple and kick him out, have him shack up with his thousands of bitches. I love my brother to death, but he can’t be living under you his whole life.”
“How about you worry about the baby in your belly and the one in front of you who refuses to pee?”
Her eyes immediately met with the familiar gray ones she saw within her fiancé’s. His fat olive cheeks are currently a tint of red as his arms cross below him, dark hair spruced all around his head as he frowned across from her, sitting on his teddy bear decorated makeshift toilet. 
“Have you been taking the fish oil pills I sent?”  her mother asks.
Seioni frowns, “Yuck. Everything except those. I can barely keep food down, do you want me to vomit?” 
She then turns her head back towards Megumi as she sighs, “C’mon, Sweetface. You said ‘Oni, pee!’ earlier.”
Another issue that they faced, with Megumi being two, in comparison to other children there was a…slowness to his ability to speak. They thought he’d be farther in his journey, understanding more than he could reply. But it wasn’t an end of the world issue. It was something that was brought up in conversation when it came to Toji’s ability to teach him, but that conversation quickly ended. One thing everyone knew—Toji didn’t play about his child. 
Megumi shakes his, saying, “No, no, no!” as he wiggles his way from the toilet. 
Her mother hears their little argument as she asks, “Meg’ giving you a hard time with potty training again?” 
“As always,” Seioni sighs. 
“How about you give him treats for it?” 
Seioni frowns, “Jesus, he’s not a dog, momma. And I don’t want him thinking that the only way you accomplish things is immediately receiving an award for them.” 
She sighs as she looks at Megumi, “I wish you were here, mommy. You had me and Nova potty trained before we were even counting. How’s Dad? And Aunt Celeste?”
Her mother heard the longing tone of her daughter’s words and immediately sympathized. Her daughter always had a close relationship with her family, so it was expected for her to miss them. 
“Your father’s fine. He’s in the backyard tending to the garden like he says he’s going to do every summer,” she replied, slightly amused by her over-the-top husband, “And Celeste is somewhere in her room caked-up on the phone with her many boyfriends. Probably where Nova’s slutty ass gets it from.” 
Seioni laughs lightly as she smiles, just envisioning her father out in the garden every summer with a ridiculous sunhat and shorts, a gardening shovel in his hand as the sweat glistens on his body. She also envisioned her aunt, boisterous laugh as she twirled her hair to any man’s attention. This conversation was only aiding her home-sickness, she felt her stomach beginning to ache.
She brings her eyes back to Megumi, staring over him as he sits silently along the toilet. She then says to him, “Megumi, pee?” 
Megumi gives a pout, his chin quivering as he mutters out, “No-potty!” his little hands curling up into fists. He refused to use the toilet, and only wanted to use his pull-ups. 
Seioni huffs, running her hand through her hair, “Oh my hell, just pee, Megumi,” she told him as her mother laughed through the call.
“Eat-eat!” He then soundlessly calls out. 
Seioni raises an eyebrow as she crosses her arms, “No eat-eat, Megumi doesn’t want to pee!”
“He sounds just like his father. Stubborn as hell,” her mother laughs as she hears her daughter and grandchild from the phone. 
Seioni sighs as she rolls her eyes, but with a slight laugh as she agrees, “Yeah, exactly like his father…” She sighs once again before saying, “Megumi, you get no food until you pee!” She told him.
“Does he do this all the time?”
“Girl, yes. He only listens to Toji. Probably cause’ he’s scary. But he wanna take advantage of his ‘Oni’,” Seioni rolls her eyes. 
Megumi’s eyes were wide as a look of horror came across his face. He refused to pee, but he also wanted to eat. He’d only just recently gotten rid of his bottles and had been eating actual, solid food now. 
He began to pout heavily, tears slowly gathering in his eyes before he replied with a quiet, “Oni’, Hungry.” as he held his belly, as if to further his point.
Although she tried to get better with not allowing his cries to defeat her, she couldn’t help but soften at that olive toned face going red in the cheeks, swelling as his doe eyes dropped tears. 
She then muttered into the phone, “Fuckin’ hell, Momma, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Seioni’s mother chuckles over the line, hearing the annoyance in her daughter’s voice. “Okay,” she replies, “You better make sure Toji’s big headed ass is sitting with Megumi by the toilet the minute he gets home, you shouldn’t be the only one doing this. You acting like more of a parent then he is!”
“Mom, please don’t start,” Seioni sighs, rolling her eyes as that was probably the twentieth time her mother told her that, “Goodbye, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby,” her mother replies as if she didn’t just throw shade at her fiancè, “Talk to you later. Bye, Megumi.”
The sound of her mom’s soft voice nearly makes her want to begin crying like Megumi, missing the warmth that she brings around her. She could be a pain in the ass at times—especially when it came to her feelings about Toji’s constant absence as of recently—but that was her mom regardless. 
Megumi’s attention is pulled away from his tears as he hears her voice through the phone, calling out a small, “Bye, Bye” before Seioni hangs up the call.
Seoni places the phone down, raising her arms as she sighs, “C’mon. Oni’ is sorry, okay? Just need you to pee without your diaper one of these days.”
Megumi slowly lifted himself up from the toilet and pouted more as he muttered, “No potty,” he wasn’t going to give in to her just yet.
She had her own transgressions with the fact that Megumi had a hard time listening to her when it came to potty-training, and it was even more frustrating that the only person he listened to at times was his father. She loved Megumi like he was her own, but she knew that her not actually being his mother might’ve clued into their issues. 
“Eat-eat?” She raises an eyebrow, pulling his pamper up along his hips as she kisses him against his tear filled cheek, standing with a groan as she places him along the side of her hip.
“Eat-eat,” Megumi nodded heavily. 
His little hands clutched along her shirt as he began to sob softly, his pouts becoming more intense. His face began to become more red as tears fell more down his cheeks, staining a part of her shirt.
Seoni let out a sigh—this was gonna be a long night. 
She was halfway successful with her mission of cooking for Toji before he got home, making a wagyu steak with garlic buttered mash potatoes, only able to make a small salad for herself as she couldn’t handle anything too heavy on her stomach. Another thing she couldn’t stop crying about, nearly vomiting anything heavier than salads, sandwiches or liquids. She wasn’t sure what time he was coming home tonight, knowing that his job delved within ‘mafia/criminal’ activity, but never asking what he exactly did, just hoping he got home safely in the process. 
Once she fed Megumi and got him to finally go to sleep, she took the final step in her plans. She took a long shower, shaved her entire body, and lathered herself with baby oil and vanilla scented perfume. 
But as she stood in the baby doll dress, her breast spilled out the sides of the lace fabric, her round belly large  under the sheer gown—all of her insecurities came flooding in the warmth of her cheeks. She felt…unattractive.  
Once she changed into one of Toji’s oversized jerseys, she spent the next hour crying her eyes out, seated on the sofa as she bored into old pictures of herself. She cried so hard that she ended up knocking out, dozing off along the pillows unknowingly that she never took into account how late Toji finally came home. 
He was always terrible at entering the house. Heavy boots thumped along the floor, a low curse echoing along the walls as he stepped on one of Megumi’s toys trying to come inside. Due to her being a light sleeper, Seioni’s eyes slowly blank open, reflexively holding her belly as she looks at her fiancè. Toned arms, muscles bulging through his shirt as that dragon tattoo trailed around his left hand, now crawling under his shoulder and down his back. Dark hair and matching furrowed eyebrows frowned as he appeared behind the door, scarred lip twitching as his eyes fell over her figure. 
Seeing this man was like seeing him for the first time. Its like he’d almost gotten bigger in height and broadness, almost having to slouch for her consideration. Steel gray eyes were deadly, glares and stoic appearance making her want to melt within a constant.  A small scowl plays along his mouth—per usual—eyes flickering from the toy he just stepped on to the woman sleeping on the couch, journal nearly falling from her grasp as she begins to wake up. 
As soon as his eyes met hers though, his heart warmed a bit, relaxing slightly as his deep voice gruffly called, “Baby... What are you doing sleeping on the couch? You’re supposed to be in bed.” 
He takes his leather jacket off and slings it over the table, pausing as he picks it back up to hang along the coat rack by the door before Seioni can choke him out about it. He's already making his way over to her flawlessly beautiful figure, dark hair sticking along her toffee face as she adjusted to reawakening, feeling as her legs are being gently pulled over his lap. 
Her voice is soft and immensely quiet, “I…dozed off, uh…writing baby names. Remembering what the doctor told me,” she runs her fingers through her dark hair as she sighs, “Hi, Daddy.”
He gives a rumbling chuckle as he glances down at the journal, looking at her words before he glances back up to her, pulling her more onto his lap instead, “Hey, Mama,” he muttered back, his large hand lightly resting against her belly. 
“You’re pushing yourself too hard, aren’t you?” 
“Today was by default. Megumi gave me the blues trying to potty train him again, but I did end up making dinner for you,” she wraps her arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his palms on her hips.
Toji lets out a small huff, “‘Boy is just as hard headed as I am, you know that. You’ll tire yourself out more trying to get him to do something he doesn’t want to do.” He gently pulled her closer, her legs on either side of his lap, wrapping an arm around her hips. 
“What’d you make? I’m starving,” he grunted out, his hand rubbing her hip, massaging it lightly.
“Wagyu steak and garlic mash potatoes, how Muffin likes it,” she playfully rolls her eyes, giggling as she feels his palm lightly smack along her ass from the nickname.
In regular fashion, he quickly grumbles, “I keep telling your ass I’m not your damn Muffin.” 
He then chuckled, “Smartass, but you know me so goddamn well, beautiful,” he teased nonetheless, giving her a grin as his hand rested comfortably along her hips. 
“Just like I know that you like being my Muffin, hm?” 
“Stop talking to me. Anyways, you know if you’re going to go through the effort of cooking, I need to go through the effort to reward you afterwards,” he travels his hand upward as he digs his fingers into her hair to clutch her forward, lips sucking the skin of her neck into his mouth. 
It made her sigh breathlessly, her face warm as a small giggle pulled from her lips, “Don’t I get a reward for just being the love of your life?”
He chuckled as he pulled away from her neck, his lips just centimeters away from hers as he told her, “It never ends with you, does it, woman? Always needing more from me.”
The constant realization with their lack of intimacy hits her again, a chill coursing down Seioni’s spine at the thought. But another chill came as she remembered not feeling as attractive as she usually did. She can tell that Toji feels her body tense, hoping he doesn’t press her reaction—she really didn’t want to end the night off in an argument about her own self conflicts. 
She nearly sighs in appreciation as he slows his movements down, hearing as he asks, “How was the doctor?” 
She raises her eyes as she squints, “The doctor called you today, Fushiguro. I’m assuming you missed it due to work.”
Toji nearly groaned at the news of her saying that the doctor called. He’d meant to answer them, but as of recently work had been busier. 
“Damn it, I knew I forgot something.” He muttered out, lightly pinching his nose, “What did they call about?”
“He wanted to tell you about my high blood pressure,” she lightly trails her finger along his arm, the dragon along the veined skin shining under the living room light.
His head raised up, “What’s causing you to have high blood pressure?” 
“He said I could just be stressing myself out, which—I know I am. He prescribed me Lexapro, I think I might try it out for a couple of days, see how it makes me feel.” 
She can practically feel the frown on his face before she sees it, keeping her eyes away from him as she attempts to move herself off of his lap. Key word, attempted. 
“You’re not taking those.”
She raises her eyebrows, “The doctor told me they were safe, Toji. I don’t think he’d give me anything if he knew I couldn’t take it.”
“You think I give a fuck about what the doctor said?” 
She rolls her eyes, not ready to go back and forth with him as his arm tightens around her hips, his fingers digging a bit harder into her curves as he speaks, “If it’s not a damn prenatal, I don’t want you taking anything else. I’m not risking shit happening to you. There’s better ways to control your blood pressure.”
“Like what? Not stressing myself? That’s easier said than done. Who else wouldn’t be stressed if they had a baby in their terrible twos, a baby in their belly—then planning a wedding and baby shower all at once?” She raises an eyebrow.
“What the fuck does that have to do with you taking some dumbass shit like Lexapro? You can do all of that without medication, Seioni.” 
“Oh bite me,” she snarls, “Don’t go all government on me. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“These are issues that can be easily resolved. I’m waiting for your point.”
“Easily resolved?” Her hand quickly latches to pull his arm off of her, his hand becoming more firm as he holds onto her before his mouth fires off, “Seioni. Don’t fuckin’ play with me right now, move your hand.” 
“Boy, fuck off! Who the hell are you to tell me what I can’t take? My father?”
“Boy?” He raises his own eyebrow, full lips and scar twitching in her defiance. 
When she’s finally able to get him to loosen his grip,  she tries to hide her grunt as she has to hold her back and belly all at once to properly stand, struggling as she does so before successfully coming off of his lap. 
The minute she began getting up, his hands went immediately to her hips to hold her in his lap, a very deep frown on his face as he spoke in a dark tone, “Don’t give me that bullshit, woman. I’m your goddamn husband, that’s why I’m saying it—And you can’t even get up to stand by yourself, you can barely even move without grunting in pain, sit the hell down.”
“I can do stuff on my own!” She exclaims, crossing her arms, “Don’t act like I’m helpless, bastard. I’m just saying that maybe Lexapro wouldn’t make me so neurotic.”
“I’m not saying you’re helpless. I’m just saying that your body is not the same as it was before you were pregnant,” he grumbled back, the vein in his forehead throbbing as he spoke. He looked directly down at her arms, seeing how she crossed them across her chest as he continued, “We don’t need anymore side effects happening to you or the baby because you’re wanting some antidepressant. You don’t need those, you need to sit your ass down and take a damn break. This is why your blood pressure is high.”
“Well how about you make me less stressed by helping me out? You wanna be tied up in your stupid ass job all the time, how wouldn’t I be stressed?” She narrows her eyes.
There it is, the argument he’d been avoiding this entire time. He knew that she was upset about the time he’d been spending at work, but work was important to him. He wanted to be able to take care of her and Megumi in more ways than imagined. 
“Don’t act like I just work for shits and fuckin’ giggles.”
“Don’t make me feel like I’m supposed to be satisfied with that ! I’m asking you to at least seem interested when I talk to you about these things. Wedding, baby shower, baby names! Anytime I bring it up you blow me off about it—using the excuse that you just want to make sure I do everything I want for both events, but in reality you just don’t wanna do shit for them!” She clocks him, swatting his arms away in an attempt to touch her.
The vein in his forehead turned into a headache as she continued speaking, her words hitting at his pride. He was beginning to get incredibly pissed as she continued.
“I don’t want to do anything for it because those things aren’t about me, it’s about you and the baby. What kind of man do you think I would be if I didn’t allow you to plan your own gender reveal, your own baby shower, your own wedding, your own goddamn baby gifts? I don’t do anything to help but I’m giving you the reigns here.”
“Well maybe I’d like my fiancè to seem slightly excited about these events, to just give me some type of showing that you care!”
“You’re really doing this right now?” He blinks, “You know I care. If I didn’t I wouldn’t give a fuck about all this stupid-girly shit,” he blows a breath, sucking his teeth, “Shit. Maybe you do need the goddamn Lexapro.” 
Similar to Megumi, another newfound part of her pregnancy was the way that she could instantly cry on cue, almost like a baby. To hear his words instantly hurt her feelings. 
She didn’t mean to give the reaction she did, but everything began hitting her all at once. His words, the doctor's words, her own words. A pout came to her lips, her eyes welling with tears as she pressed her hands to her face, “I just feel so …overwhelmed.”
The minute she began to cry, Toji tensed immediately. He absolutely hated it when she cried, and her pregnancy definitely didn't help him on that end at all. He was about to respond but another sniffle came from her, and then followed by another, and another, he groaned.
"Oh jesus... Stop crying, please, you know I hate this shit..." he grumbled softly, his large hands lightly rubbing at her hips to try and soothe her.
That made her full on sob, her face red as her cheeks swelled, her hands over her face as she cried, “I c—can’t do this alone. I miss my family, I wish they were here to help me with these things. Megumi is giving me a hard time, I—I can’t keep any food down, I can’t fit any of my clothes, I feel like a fucking ugly fat whale.”
He could feel how his shirt got damp, tears staining it from her crying, but he couldn’t care less as he held her against him. Despite the pregnancy, she still felt so small in his grip, and it reassured him that although his words could be mean, he was always there to comfort her.
His head laid against the top of her head as he muttered softly, “You're not alone. You have me, okay? You have me—your…Muffin,” he almost vomited at his words, “ And Meggie, we’re here. You're not alone, babydoll.”
“But you’re always workinggg,” she sobs, hiding her face within his chest as she cries even harder, nearly unable to breath as tears drop heavily from her face.
“Baby, you gotta calm down.”
He tried soothing her as his hand began gently trying to brush away some of the tears falling down her face. Her sobbing was beginning to worry him, she was crying too damn hard. 
“I know you’re upset about the amount of time I’ve been working but—baby, I’m just tryna’ handle shit for us,” he was trying to rationalize with her, but it was very difficult to do so when she was crying.
“M—Maybe y—you just don’t want me or this baby,” she trembles.
Toji quickly grips her face, pulling her tear streaked cheeks to stare up at him as he pulls her forward, “Cut this shit out,” a firm, dark tone, “I want you more than anything with this baby. Quit saying bullshit like that. I think you’re the prettiest, Oni’. You’re lucky I can’t fuck the shit out of you right now.” 
She takes another deep breath, unable to stop herself from crying. The waterworks flowed, keeping her face in her hands as she quivered, “‘M sorry. I’m just so scared. I can’t even get Megumi to pee in the toilet. How am I gonna be a good mother? W—what if I can’t do this?” more tears appear along her face, nearly having to catch her breath from her tearful attack.
He could feel the way she was shaking and quivering from crying, and it only continued to make him feel guilty. Her words hurt, but it hurt even more when she began doubting herself.
“You’re going to be a great mom,” he muttered with an assurance, his hand lightly moving across her face, trying to brush away the tears. “Megumi’s just stubborn, baby. You’ll be able to get him eventually, it just takes time. 
You’re doing great. You’re doing just fine, okay?”
His words make her feel slightly better. She knew that she was doing better than most, and maybe being so critical was another cause of her stress. She knew she was going to be the best mother she could be, she just had to believe that. Especially with Toji’s support. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as she shoves her face within his neck, sniffling as she tries to control her breathing. 
She then muffled, “I—I love you.”
He placed his chin along the top of her head, his hand gently clutching at the back of her hair. “I love you too, beautiful. I love you so damn much.”
“Even when I’m a crying mess?” She mutters, feeling the grumble of his chuckle along her body.
“Even when you’re a complete mess, I still love you. You’re still my gorgeous, loveable mess, baby,” he reassured, placing a gentle kiss along the top of her head, “I meant what I said. You’ in my jersey is gonna get you fucked up,” he grunts, the arousement of this man never failing.
She rolls her eyes against his damp shirt, lightly swatting his arm as she utters, “Hush.”
The comfort and reassurance of this man was like no other— she couldn’t ask for a better upcoming husband. Through all of that, she feels her body becoming tired again after the waterworks, laying herself deeper into him as she lets a moment of silence go between them. Despite their disagreements, she loved him endlessly. 
“Baby?” She asks softly. 
“Yeah?”
“Can I have some of your steak?” 
“Is it gonna make you vomit and then cry after you vomit?”
“…Yes.” 
“Then no.” 
                     ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. 𐦍༘⋆
AS A COUPLE OF WEEKS HAD PASSED, Seioni had  come to the revelation that the only thing she’d do from now on was enjoy this pregnancy. With that, she requested instead of taking Lexapro to receive something for her morning sickness. Toji’s stubbornness subsided at the thought of her being able to eat, to which he painfully agreed on the medication.
All this man wanted to do was make his woman happy. He wanted to withhold the surprise he had for her and Megumi, but knowing that not allowing his fiancè to do her ‘girly-shit’ in preparation for an upcoming vacation to Maui, Hawaii, she’d go into labor if she couldn’t buy a whole new wardrobe.  
She was like a child when it came to her excitement—if only her fiancè and his son were as equally elated in her process. She enjoyed every single swipe of his card, outfits, getting her hair done, pampering herself in preparation to be along the beach. She dragged Toji and Megumi all around the mall with her, finding outfits for them as well—ignoring the looks shared between the son and father, impatient and only wanting to be curled up next to her at home. But as he watched her stare within the mirror as she tried on two-piece bikinis, not giving a damn about her round belly, shopping wasn’t as bad as he made it to be—he was now excited. 
The day finally came as they were at the bustling airport. Seioni pulled her bohemian braids behind her ear, more human hair than anything flowing in between the individuals as her brown skin was lightly russet within the face, her freckle’s almost making her look sun kissed. She wore a ballerina pink baby tee, matching yoga pants and her hello kitty sandals, trying to carry her own personal bag on her shoulder as she gave a polite nod to the airport worker after showing her passport. Toji could’ve nearly snatched that bag off of her shoulder, almost glaring at her for attempting to carry something as heavy as her bag. 
“I had it,” she said softly, rolling her eyes.
He grumbled, raising an eyebrow at her eye-roll as he shifted the strap along his shoulder, allowing her to walk in front of him. He was like a guard dog, ready to pounce at any moment as she spun around in her dream land.
“And you say I’m stubborn,” Toji mutters. 
She raises an eyebrow, “You’ talkin’ shit over there?” Taking Megumi’s small hand within hers, pulling him as he waddled down the line towards TSA. 
“Do you want me to repeat myself in a louder tone?”
She shot daggers at him, eyebrows frowning down as she nearly flung Megumi to turn towards him, “You know what, as a matter of fact, I do!” 
“You better waddle your ass to TSA and stop talking to me.” 
“I don’t wanna have to smack your ass in this damn airport, Fushiguro,” she glares.
“That’s even if you could get to me in time!” 
“Oh! You’re tryna’ be funny! How about I roll over to you?! Bastard!—“ 
“You better stop talking to that man like that, Seioni!” 
She halts. Her attitude is on high alert as she thinks—who the hell is talking to her and why did they know her name?
 Her body fully turns as she searches for the voice that becomes familiar the more it echoes in her mind. Her heart nearly falls in her ass as she sees the familiar smile that she holds within her own face, her mother standing on the other side of the airport as well as her father, brother and aunt.
 Her eyes go wide as she shockingly calls, “Momma?!” 
Her eyes turn to Toji, seeing the smile that suppresses within his face. He knew that she was having a hard time with this pregnancy, so he thought surprising her with her family joining them on the trip would make her smile. He knew she hadn’t seen them in a while due to them living in a different city. 
She releases Megumi’s hand as she takes off for them, Toji calling, “Oni’!” scared she would fall, watching as she waddles quickly over to them, gripping her mother into the tightest hug she could’ve given her. 
“Oh my god,” she cried, tears immediately coming down her face, “What are you— when did you—how are you guys here?” She cried, looking between all of her family members, unable to stop herself from the waterworks.
The minute she began crying, her mother was shushing her gently with a light laugh, “Oh no, no, don’t cry, babygirl. We just wanted to surprise you, since we know you’ve been having a hard time lately.”
Her mother was lightly rubbing her back as her father spoke up next, “Your fiancé told us that you could use some moral support right now, we were more than happy to come see you. He paid for our flights here and to Maui.” 
“You didn’t tell us your fiancè had all this damn munyun, sis,” her brother calls from behind, a smirk along his face.
She scrunches her nose at her brother as she fires, “Don’t be ghetto, act like you’ve been around some money before.” 
“Yo’ daddy!” Nova rebuttals. 
“Aye! I’m nowhere near broke!” Her father, Noel protests. 
“Did you pay for this trip, broke-boy?” Her mother playfully insights to her husband, crossing her arms with a raised eyebrow, “I recall you only buying a neck pillow for the flight.” 
“Saanaá, please. You bought a matching one!” 
“And did! Celeste bought a third!” She points out. 
“And did! In my business? Mind yours, anyways, he does seem to have heavy ass pockets. What he do’ for work?” The aunt playfully instigates, Toji and Seioni quickly replying in an exhale, “Contractor.” 
Toji’s instantly amused by her family dynamic. He was unable to do anything but chuckle as she turns towards him, “You really did this?” Sniffling as she smacks his arm, “You did. You bastard.” 
Toji now had Megumi along his hip, nearly stumbling as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pecking his lips multiple times while still crying throughout her happiness.
“Is this the little Megumi?” Her aunt playfully gasps. 
 Megumi giggles as he raises his arms into hers, surprisingly going right into her embrace which makes her happily cheer. Toji almost had to blink twice. 
“Well come on people, our flight is gonna start boarding soon!” The mom calls, taking the hand of her husband as the aunt giggles excitedly with Megumi in her hands, Seioni’s brother helping with the bags as he follows behind.
 She turns to Toji as she wraps her arms around his neck, “You’re such a sweetie when you wanna be, y’know that? Always putting on this scary act and you’re just a little teddy bear. My muffin.” 
“You think I’m a teddy bear, huh?” He teased lightly, one of his hands lightly resting along the small of her back, holding her close to him. “Don’t be fuckin’ cute. I’m only soft for you.” 
“Looks like somebody's tryna’ get on my good side, hm?” 
She stood on her toes, dragging her tongue along his jaw before sucking his lips into her mouth, making him grunt lowly, “Don’t get me put on the no flight list, Seioni.” 
She giggles, “Bad boy. We’re with my family!” She teases, giggling as she tries to pull away, “The baby can hear you,” she places her hand along her belly.
“She’s gonna feel something if you don’t stop playing,” he threatens along her lips, hearing as she shockingly giggles, swatting his arm before she begins pulling him towards their gate, “Let’s go!” 
The flight had gone by quickly—at least for Seioni, she fell asleep before the plane even took off. Toji spent most of his time hovering the phone over to Megumi to keep him quiet, seeing as he became fussy from having to be stuck in one place for a long period of time. Her mom and aunt were also asleep, her brother and father engrossed in a movie they were both watching at the same time.
He couldn’t help but sigh as both Seioni and Megumi gripped along his body to comfortably sleep, Toji barely unable to move at this point. The tired laugh that fell from his lips was inevitable.
The minute that he felt like he’d dozed off, they arrived in Maui. His jet-lagged physique made him feel like his eyes were shutting by themselves, but to see the excitement of his fiancè as she pulled him through the airport, he figured he’d sleep another time. The sun was shining brighter than they’d ever experienced as they made it outside, the flowers were blooming and the trees were vibrantly green—it was almost overwhelming.
“We were only on the plane for an hour but yet my ass feels like it’s been sitting in a seat for hours,” he mutters, his voice tired. It felt like his chest had been filled with concrete; the only thing keeping him focused was the pure, raw excitement that his fiancè showed. 
“Awe, you need a massage?” Seioni questions, rubbing the side of his neck as he attempts to pick up her luggage, his and Megumi’s. 
“Don’t be tryna’ soften me up and shit” he points out, Seioni pouting as she says, “Moi? Softening you up? How dare you.” 
Toji huffs as she continues to rub at the side of his neck, the action making him want to just collapse into her body and fall asleep. 
“What do you want, woman?”
“Your love and affection?” She bats her eyelashes, “You've been working  so hard. Nova, come get these bags before I punch you! My man is doing all the damn work!” She calls for her brother, wrapping her arms around Toji as she pecks his jaw.
“Stop yelling at me, fucker.”
Both siblings raise their middle fingers to each other, Toji having to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing at the sight. 
He feels her arms wrapping around his body, subconsciously holding her a bit tighter against him as he grumbles, “Yeah, okay.”
When they walked into what essentially seems to be a villa, the sight was beautiful. The inside walls were brown, minimalist beige furniture with a large kitchen. There were multiple rooms, an opening that led out to a personal pool, fruits, finger foods plastered around the kitchen island to welcome the family in the house.
“Dammnn, Toji. You’ did good!” Saanaà calls, the aunt agreeing, “This shit is bougie. You’ must really love Oni’!” 
“She’s aight!,” her brother Nova comments, the dad intervening, “Don’t be mad cause you don’t have a woman to do this for.”
“That’s if he had the money!” Aunt Celeste clowns on him, everyone laughing as Nova smacks his lips, carrying their bags upstairs.
“Let’s go to the beach! I need to see the sun set.”
“Ooh, and to see the fine men on the beach!” Her aunt agreed with her moms statement. 
“That too,” Saanaà nods her head, Noel then saying, “You’ tryna be funny, married woman?” With a raised eyebrow.
“Oh boy, don’t start. Y’know I love you…but I also love  looking at fine men!” 
Seioni rolls her eyes with a soft laugh, then saying, “As much as I’d love to watch you two act an ass on this beach, I’m feeling a little nauseated from the plane ride,” she places her hand over her belly, feeling her feet becoming heavier as she stands. Toji immediately wraps his arm around her, steadying as he knows her feet hurt at times.
“You alright, baby?” Toji is immediately concerned, having the urge to pick her up to keep her feet off of the ground.
“Do you need us to stay with you?” Her mom asks, now becoming equally worried. 
She shakes her head, “No—actually, take Megumi with you, if that’s okay. I’d love for him to see the water. Let him spend some time with y’all, Toji can stay here and make sure I don’t roll down the stairs,” she weakly jokes, pulling her hair behind her ear tiredly.
Her mom nods her head in agreement, looking over at Toji with a curious look, “You don’t mind?” 
Toji shrugs his shoulders, “Nah. I can stay here and make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” he half-jokes, shifting so her body can lean more so on his own.
“Okay, we’ll be back soon. Let’s go, Meggie!” Her aunt picks up the small two-year old, watching as he giggled, wrapping his arms around her neck. 
All in her plan. Once the family exits out the house, Toji looks down as he notices the grin she tries to suppress. He raises an eyebrow, realizing she had been trying to find a reason to get her family out of the house without actually having to ask.
“You’re a terrible actor,” he hums, “You just wanted me all to yourself? Selfish ass.” 
“Mhmmm,” she hums back, happy as can be, tugging him towards the master bedroom. 
It was more beautiful than she imagined. A crisp white bed next to a walk in shower, green marble in the structure of the walls. As they look out to the balcony, there’s a clawfoot tub that looks out into the beauty of the green trees, a sight that she could look at forever. 
She felt a pang in her chest as she was now alone with him, as if this wasn’t her fiancée that’d she’d been with for the past two years. He knew every part of her body, so why was she afraid to show it? 
She faced the wall of the shower as she undressed. Toji instantly notices how she refuses to look at herself, but says nothing. He didn’t wanna cause an argument— at least for now. 
The tub is now filled, flower petals drenched beneath the warm water, multicolored and ethereal to their eyes. Seioni leans against the top of the tub as she stares out at the horizon, her long bohemian braids claw clipped out of her face, skin bare of makeup as her freckles tattoo against her cheeks and nose. The sunlight beamed against her brown skin, she couldn’t look away from it. Toji was the opposite—he couldn’t look away from her. 
She continued to ramble, “So, I was thinking about baby names again. I had been looking into some Japanese names for a girl, and I saw the name Nozomi—I thought it was so cute. It’ll fit into our little family, everyone ending in ‘I’s’. Megumi, Seioni, Toji, you get what I’m saying? And then I can give her a little nickname like ‘Omi’ cause it sounds like me! ‘Oni’! Yeah?” 
When she hears no response and realizes she might’ve been talking too much, she stops, noticing the way he leans his head slightly as he stares at her. 
She leans herself into the water as she gives a small 
smile, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
His gray eyes continued to stare at her, tracing every dip and curve of her body with his gaze as he spoke, “You’re so pretty, baby.”
She rolls her eyes, “Were you even listening?” coming closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she comes onto his lap. The warm water engulfs both of their skin.
Toji allows her to adjust herself onto his lap, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist once she is situated. He hums as he buries his face into the crook of her neck, his lips attaching to her warm throat.
“I was listening,” he murmurs, “Nozomi is a nice name, perfect for a pretty little girl. Just like her momma.”
He continues to press kisses against her skin, teeth gently nipping at the skin of her shoulder. She sighs, feeling that she wanted to have a conversation about what was going on in her head. But she knew that Toji wouldn’t be too happy to hear the unhappiness she felt, and she didn’t want to ruin the trip. 
“You’ve been all quiet on me since we got here,” she says quietly, “I miss you. Are you feeling…overwhelmed with my family?”
He chuckles, “Nah, I’m good, Mama. I’m just a little tired. We’ve been traveling for hours and your family is on ten at all times. It’s just different.” 
He presses a gentle kiss against her exposed collarbone, “Plus, I’ve been looking forward to being alone with you.”
Her mind wracks at that. She knows they need some time together, without Megumi’s constant whining and crying, without her family regardless of this trip. She thought back to the doctor's words of intimacy, the thought feeling almost virginal to her. She felt…not like herself. She wasn’t looking for a pep talk about confidence. But this belly and the changes in her body, she wasn’t used to it. 
She pulls him closer, letting the petals flow around them within the tub as she asks, “You’d tell me if they were getting on your nerves, right?”
Toji allows her to pull him closer, his arms fully wrapping around her back as he presses a kiss against her shoulder. He chuckled softly at her question, “Your family is cool as fuck. But this conversation isn’t gonna stop you from saying what’s actually wrong with you.” 
She feels the intensity in his stare. Blowing out a breath at the question, her eyes fall back down. This was the time to be vulnerable, but as said before, she didn’t want a scolding in response. 
She shakes her head as she lies somewhat, “Just nervous about the family thing. They can be kinda…controlling?”
His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t lie to me.” 
“I’m not,” she lies again, “So you aren’t worried about getting into it with them? You have a mouth on you.”
Toji gives her a look, knowing that she was bullshitting him. There was definitely more to what she was saying than she was letting on. 
“Nope,” he responds instead, “I do have a mouth on me, but I’m a grown ass man, I know how to— what do you’ be saying? Keep it cute? I’m hip as fuck!” 
“Oh god,” she giggles, wrapping her arms tightly around him, ignoring his chuckle that buried into her shoulder blade. 
Another thought passes of wanting to be upfront with him. But the atmosphere, their moment together—it was too beautiful to ruin. She just hoped he didn’t push about it, knowing that he could read anything on her face. 
“Do you know how much I love you?” She questions, kissing his jaw, pecking his nose, even along his cheeks.
His eyes dart over her face as she begins to pepper all over his cheeks with kisses. She attempts to act cutesy in order to distract him from the question, knowing all too well that she’s doing so. She was good at it too. 
He sighs as a small smirk forms on his face, “Nah, do you know how I love you?” he responds.
“Mmm, as much as the moon loves the stars within the sky?” She cheekily responds, pressing her forehead against his, feeling his hand press gently along her stomach.
Toji chuckles and rolls his eyes at her dorky response, one of his hands gently rubbing at her stomach while the other rests on her hip. He smirks at her, “Corny ass. I love you more than that.” 
When he kisses her, it feels breathless as he holds her jaw while sucking his lips into her mouth, as if it had more meaning behind it. When he pulled back, the warmth against her face and the dumb smile along it wouldn’t falter. She loved this man. 
“Now, back to the name game. I’m thinking Toji Jr, or Megumi-Toji-Jr, or, Toji-Megumi-Jr, yeah?” 
Seioni rolls her eyes. She loves him, even if he was a damn idiot. 
As the sun sets along the island, Seioni and Toji meet the rest of her family out towards the beach, a family dinner now taking place. Her black baby tee and a long matching skirt that draped down to her ankles, orchid sandals and a matching flower along the side of her hair made her feel somewhat decent—even if she kept glancing down at her stomach— She waved excitedly as everyone cheered when they arrived, Toji holding her hand behind her to make sure she didn’t trip within the sand. 
He was like a baby, wanting to have a tantrum when she asked him to wear a Hawaiian button up, the man wanting to die before he put on patterned clothes. Instead she got him to wear a pair of black and white flowered swimming trunks, white long sleeve clinging to his broad frame—he still wasn’t entirely happy about it.
The group had set up a makeshift table on the sand, chairs and a checkered picnic blanket set out. The sun was setting, the ocean and sky turning into a blend of oranges and pinks, the scene quite breathtaking. 
The family sat around the table, eating and making small talk. Toji leaned into the seat, his body relaxed and his hand rested on Seioni’s lower back. Despite them being his soon to be in-laws, Toji found her family entertaining enough, able to keep him interested with their banter back and forth.
Hula dancers suddenly appeared as they all talked, their villa's host also appearing as he welcomed them to Maui. The family was amazed as some of the girls performed fire tricks, their hips moving in ways that were more than talented. It wasn’t too long before Megumi stood from where he sat next to Seioni and Toji and played in the sand, running up to them as he began to dance—which was jumping around in a baby’s attempts to find rhythm, giggling as the hula girls smiled at him.
The family laughed at the adorable sight before them, Toji chuckling at the little dancing Megumi, jumping around and babbling. It was extremely cute, the hula dancers all smiling and waving at the little boy. 
“Don’t think you got those moves from your non-rhythm ass daddy, huh?” Seioni’s aunt giggled. 
“Not too much! I have rhythm!” Toji defends himself, Seioni giggling beside him. 
Everyone was now up— her brother flirting his way into getting one of the Hula girls' numbers, her mom pulling her dad up to dance with her, and her aunt recording Megumi as she shouted, “Go Meg! Go Meg!” 
Seioni hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As she turned her head to kiss Toji, a hula girl came forward, pulling her up off the sand to dance with her, trying to teach her the movement of her hips. 
Seioni giggled, her cheeks warm as she followed, raising her hands above her body as she twisted her hips to follow the music that played.
Toji couldn’t help but smile at her as he watched her follow along with the hula girl. Her body moved in a fluid motion, hips twisting and swaying. Toji’s smile only grew wider, the joy and twinkle in her eyes making his heart skip in his chest. She looked so happy and so free, as if nothing in the world could get in her way. 
His eyes darkened in a different way as he watched how she looked in her tight skirt and top, the way it hugged her curves. He loved her in more ways than one, but at times it felt like he was digging his nails into the surface, trying to hold back a side of him she knew the first night she’d met him. He was becoming impatient, and he was an extremely patient man.
Seioni was now dancing with Megumi, spinning him around playfully. When her Aunt Celeste wanted the baby all to herself, Seioni brought her attention back towards Toji as she leaned down with her arms out, gesturing for him to dance with her.
Toji rolled his eyes slightly as he was pulled to his feet, his hand gripping her as their bodies pressed close together. He chuckled, wrapping one arm around her hips while his other hand gripped hers as they began to sway, his eyes gazing down at her. 
“You really just can’t get enough of me, huh, woman?”
“Never. It’s unfortunate, isn’t it?” 
She sighs, wrapping her arms around his neck, giggling as he pulls her sandals on top of his shoes, twisting her around and holding her up by them. He leans down as he brings his lips to her neck, a small gasp leaving her lips as she feels his palm slam on her ass, pulling her eyes up as she shrieks, “Fushiguro!”
“Don’t act like that. They know how you got pregnant in the first place.” 
“I’m putting a muzzle on you for the rest of the time here,” she tells him, “You’re not being good.”
His eyebrow raises, mischief glistening in his eyes as he chuckles at the threat. He leans in closer, his nose almost bumping against hers. 
“Let me start barking then.”
She rolls her eyes, leaning her face up to kiss him, “Keep talking shit, maybe I’ll put a muzzle on my mouth and you’ll be using that hand all week.”
He raises an eyebrow, “A muzzle on you, huh? That’s some freaky shit. Ooh, girl, you’re nasty.”
Seioni giggles as he fully picks her up and spins her around, kissing away their entire conversation. The family spent hours along the beach, the night nearly going into dawn when they made it back to the villa. Toji felt like he’d been hit by a train, the jet-lag and overall tiredness he felt hitting him all at once as they made their way to bed.
 Megumi was sleeping with Celeste, while Nova and her parents had their own rooms, leaving Toji and Seioni alone to themselves. His hand rubbed her stomach until she fell asleep, finally allowing his own eyes to close once he knew she was comfortable. 
…But just as he was deep within his rest, a knock came pounding at their door. It felt like he’d just closed his eyes. 
“Good morning Love Birds, we’re all going to breakfast!” 
Her mom calls through the door. When she doesn’t hear anything, she knocks again. Still silent. She then makes the decision to open the door without asking permission, walking towards the bed as she tugged at the covers along their feet.
“I know y’all hear me!”
Seioni groans softly, her eyes blinking open to see her mom standing at the end of the bed. She says to her softly, “Hi, mommy.”
As she turns, she sees Toji is also awake—practically giving her mom the death stare, his eyes only peeking above the covers, pulling Seioni closer to him. 
“The fuck?” he grumbled, still glaring.
“Toji,” she scolded softly, tapping his chest at his reaction, “We’ll be down there in a minute, mom.”
“‘The fuck I am,” he disagreed under his breath, deepening himself under the covers.
“Hurry up! I love me some French toast, it’ll be gone in seconds!”
With that, her mom slams the door, Toji almost wanting to throw something against the wall at all the loud sounds imploding his ears.
Seioni sighs, running a hand over her face as she murmurs, “What time is it?”
“Too early to be having motherfuckers slamming the door open talking about some dumb ass French toast,” Toji mutters back, immensely irritated. 
“Hey, that’s my momma you’re talking about, jackass. Tighten up,” she flicks his nose, “Why are you so grumpy? You’ literally get up at the ass crack of dawn to go to work. What’s so different now?”
“Because? I’m not at work right now?” His voice held a grumpy tone, obviously not amused by her mother’s sudden appearance. 
His eyes narrowed as he looked up at her, “How the hell can you even act so calm right now? You hate your sleep being interrupted.”
“Because we’re on vacation and should enjoy every moment we have together, Fushiguro,” she pulls his face up to meet hers, squeezing his cheeks as she says, “Lighten up, Muffin?” 
His hands reach up to take a hold of her wrists, his irritation only building, “No.” he says firmly. 
“Mean ass,” she insults, “Maybe you do need some breakfast.”
His eyes peek open at that. When he glances down at her appearance, scarf around her hair and in his jersey, the vanilla spray she spritzed on herself before they went to sleep inhaled his senses—this is when he found her most attractive. 
Maybe he did need to relax. His eyes darken as he comes closer, his lips along her neck as he sucks at the skin, coming up as he latches a kiss against her mouth. 
He grunts, “You’re right. Open your fuckin’ legs, I’m hungry.” 
Her body tenses up as he kisses her, his hand along her belly making her want to squirm. What if she wasn’t as seductive as she used to be? 
She was doing her best to keep up with him, that much he knew. He could feel it in the kisses, the way her body reacted to his touch. But she wasn’t fully giving herself to him. He wanted more from her. He needed that hunger that he knew she was holding back—He needed her to be as desperate as he was. 
He let out a low growl between their kisses, clutching her hair within his fingers as he tugged her head back, licking the skin of her throat. She whimpers softly, “Toji…”
“Quit holding back,” he murmurs against her skin. He can feel her breath hitch again, her body trembling in his grip, “Let me make you feel good.”
A soft moan comes from her lips as she grabs his hair in her fingers, head falling back as she tries to relax her body. For a moment she felt okay. But when she notices how he has to hover over her to not hit her belly, her insecurities come crumbling onto her. 
It was also right on time, another knock coming to the door as her mom calls, “I know y’all don’t want me to bust in this damn room again!” 
She stopped him. Pressing her hand against his jaw to push him back, she says softly, “Maybe we should just go get breakfast.”
Knock, knock, knock. 
His eyes narrow, irritation returning, this time for a completely different reason. This was the last thing he wanted. He was finally getting somewhere with her, she was finally letting herself go, and now they were being interrupted again. 
“Fuckin’ hell.” 
She sighs, “I don’t need the house cussing us out, everyone has to eat together in my family,” she briefly explains, “Plus…my belly is kinda…in the way…” 
She brushes her self deprecating thoughts away as she sighs, “Lets just go.” 
“‘The fuck are you talking about?”
She ignores that question. Now standing from the bed, she removes her scarf as her braids come falling around her face, edges still sculpted perfectly as she pulls on some house slippers, going to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
His eyes follow her as she stands, his mood now more than just sour. She really thinks that his thoughts have changed because of a baby bump? He loves her, and nothing about her looks or her body would ever change that. 
But just like her—he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He swings himself off the bed, running a hand through his messy black hair. His irritation grew the more he thought about her comment.
When they finally make their way into the kitchen's dining area, Seioni politely greets the workers as they place their food against the table, Toji glaring behind her as he sits, quickly greeting the family, “Morning.” 
He sees Megumi sitting at the table with Celeste, rubbing his eyes as he whines softly. When he sees Toji, he raises his arms up, the first time of him wanting his father’s attention since they’ve been here.
He looks to her aunt, “Did you wake him up?”
“We did. Eating together is tradition, that includes sleeping babies! We woke Seioni and Nova up every morning around this time to eat breakfast, tired or not. You have to get used to getting up early,” Saanaà tells him. 
“He has trouble sleeping, I don’t need him waking up if he’s finally asleep. That makes him irritated throughout the day, and he won’t stop fussing,” Toji says, voice filled with annoyance from what Seioni could read. She lightly places her hand over his.
Her touch manages to calm him down a bit, although his irritation was still there. He was just happy that at least she was calm, he didn’t want her stress levels to go up.
“He’ll be okay, nothing a pacifier can’t fix!” Her aunt then chimes in, an uncomfortable tension now in the air. 
Seioni then lightly passes, “We’re trying to get him off the pacifier, Aunt Celeste.” 
Her mom takes a fork, digging it into her toast as she shrugs, “He’s a baby. No need to do all that extra shit and go by his schedule, you’re the parent. He’s gonna cry regardless. Let him.”
Seioni presses her lips into her mouth. Here they go, she thought.
 As she went to respond to that, Toji leaned forward as Megumi still had his hands out for him, the two year old whining as he cradled into his fathers arms. He leaned his head against his shoulder with his thumb now in his mouth.
How was she going to tell him how to raise his own fucking kid? 
Seioni looks to her father and brother, knowing how her aunt and mom could be. They thankfully catch her quiet call for help as Noel says, “So, what’s the plans for today, Oni’?” 
“I was thinking me and Toji could look at some venues in Maui, I really am thinking about a wedding along the beach, as long as it isn’t too hot,” she tells them with a soft smile, clutching her fingers in Toji’s that’s under the table, feeling the tense in his body. 
“You’re doing that today?” Her aunt blinks, “Girl, we have plenty of time for that. Why don’t we go jet-skiing! Or swim with the turtles?”
“Ooh! Jet-skiing sounds nice as hell!” Her mom agrees, the both of them clinking their mimosas together.
Nova then chimes in, “Yeah, momma. That sounds cool. But you wouldn’t wanna go see some beach venues?” He tries to reel both women back in, seeing as this is what his sister wants, and Toji’s eyes narrow as they try to force their itineraries on her.
“Not really. A beach wedding is simple anyways, honey,” Seioni’s mom shakes her head, “Your father married me in a beautiful cathedral, with angels, cherubs and renaissance paintings all against the walls. You should want more than that.”
That makes Seioni blink for a moment, her hand going lax in Toji’s. She knew how her mom could be, wanting things for herself and putting them onto her daughter, she just wished this wasn’t the time she did that.
His fingers twitch under the table, his irritation only growing as the conversation continued. How could they just disregard her? Didn’t they care about what she wanted?
“Well, um—maybe you guys can just go jet-ski and me and Toji will look for venues?” She then suggests, “You can take Megumi, I’m sure he’d enjoy the water way more.”
“Girl, this is a family vacation, meaning we’re all supposed to be together. You’re coming,” her mom finalizes, her aunt then saying, “Toast to that!” The both of them once again clinking those stupid ass mimosas. They were obviously tipsy. 
Eyes fall onto Toji who then stands from the table, holding Megumi as he says, “I’m gonna go try to feed him upstairs and put him down for a nap.” 
Seioni could feel her fiancées annoyance. She could feel the frustration radiating off of him. But she knew he was trying to hold his mouth for the sake of her family. 
She gives him a weak smile as she says, “Okay,” accepting the peck of his lips against hers before he makes his way upstairs.
“Toji can be a grumpy ass man it seems,” her mom points out, not realizing how irritating she’s being. 
“It’s just hard for us to get Megumi to sleep at times, Momma. Him being woken up this early dismisses the schedule we have him on,” she tries to explain.
“He’ll be okay,” her mom waves her hand, “There’s a lot we’re going to be doing, you both just need to relax a little bit.”
"And it's not all about Megumi," her aunt adds, "You have to think about us. We want to spend time with you, too."
Her eyes narrow slightly as she tries not to get riled up, "I know…”
Her mom takes a sip of her mimosa, her voice lowering, "But just think, is your fiancée seriously gonna be happy with a beach wedding?" 
Seioni can feel her shoulders tense as her mom puts doubt into her mind. She can see what she’s trying to do—maybe it’s starting to work.
“He’s happy with whatever I want, Mom,”  she pulls a braid behind her ear, “The whole reason we came to Maui was because he knew this was one of my places I wanted to get married.”
"Really?" Her aunt's voice is a mix between disbelief and surprise. "That man is happy with whatever you want?" 
Her mom shakes her head, "You really have him whipped, huh?"
“I need to get my husband like that,” her mom then laughs loudly, her aunt then chiming in, “I need all three of my men on my knees like he is!”
“Saanaà,” Seioni’s father scolds, Nova pulling out his phone to dismiss himself from this entire conversation.
Seioni blinks back and forth between them, feeling herself becoming irritated as well. If she let them go on for too long, they started berating everyone around. It wasn’t fun. 
Seioni presses her lips into her mouth as she says, “I’m gonna go take my medicine, we can meet back down here in the next hour for jet-skiing…or swimming with the turtles, yeah?”
Her mom gives her a sly smile, taking another sip of her mimosa, "Mhm, sounds like a plan, honey. Take your meds and we'll see you soon." 
Seioni's dad places his hand on her shoulder, Nova looking up from his phone, giving her a nod, agreeing that everything would be fine. Hopefully.
She could hear her mom and aunt both say, “Beach wedding…” another laugh, another clink of those fucking mimosas. 
As she makes her way upstairs, she opens the door to see Toji sitting at the end of the bed with Megumi as he holds a bowl of eggs towards him, the tv along the wall playing a cartoon that they usually watched together. 
Toji raised the scrambled eggs in his hand as he gestured to the baby, “Eat-eat?”
Megumi stares at the bowl in front of him, his eyes wide as he glances between Toji and the eggs. There's hesitation on his expression, as if he isn't sure if he wants to eat the food or not. Then his stomach growls, and he makes a face.
“No, Eat-Eat,” he pouts, rubbing his eyes, getting eggs within his hair as his tiny fingers rub his face. 
“Eat, eat,” Toji says again, a hint of impatience in his voice. He tries to guide the spoonful of eggs closer to Megumi's mouth, but the little boy turns his head away, refusing to open.
Seioni sighs as she closes the door. Toji looks at her, watching as she crosses her arms over her chest, a blank stare in her face as she keeps her eyes against the floor. The entire tables conversation replays in her head—she felt like this trip was slowly taking a turn. 
“No hungry, Oni’,” Megumi says to her, pushing the spoon away that Toji holds to him. 
Seioni sighs, “Eat-eat, Meggie. Then, go to bed? Yeah?”
Megumi blinks again, a deeper pout coming on his olive cheeks, skin deepening in red as tears gloss his eyes. He pouts, “Paci,” his own way of trying to say Pacifier. Toji shakes his head, “Don’t want you to cry, papa. Please eat-eat.”
He sniffles, leaning forward as he opens his mouth, Toji making a blowing sound with his lips to gain his attention, pushing the spoon within his mouth as he finally accepts the eggs. He watches as Megumi then takes the small bowl he has, beginning to mush the eggs together before shoving them into his mouth, crumbs falling all along the bed.
“You’ good?” Toji then takes his attention towards Seioni. 
She presses her lips in as she nods, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
"You don't look fine," he says bluntly, his eyes lingering. He knows her better than that.
“I’m just…my mom and my aunt are just drinking too much,” she brushes off, “That’s all. I don’t want Meggie to be irritated and sleepy all day, I just…wanna go look at venues.”
"We'll go look at venues," he assures her, his voice gentle. "We can go to every fuckin’ venue on this beach, baby. Whatever you want.”
Seioni takes in another breath. She wanted this vacation to be perfect, and for everyone to be happy. She didn’t want to be a pregnant bridezilla. 
She shakes her head, giving a fake smile as she sighs, “We’ll go jet-skiing, and swim with the turtles. It’ll be fun! We can check out the venues tomorrow.”
It’s unfortunate he could see right through her. 
"You sure about that, sunshine?" he asks, his voice laced with sarcasm. "We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and you can tell your family that. You don’t have to be scared of them.”
She glances over to Megumi who’s now laying on her side of the bed, slowly dozing off as he keeps his eyes upon the show he watches. 
She crosses her arms again as she frowns, “Who said I was scared? I’m a grown ass woman, Fushiguro.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t. But you don’t have to let them walk over you.”
“And I’m not?”
“Okay.”
“Okay, so drop it.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” 
With that, she ignores the smack on his lips, Toji standing to shower, going around her as he pulls his shirt off of his upper body. She doesn’t even jump as the door slams behind him. She keeps her arms crossed, feeling like this was their first argument since they’d been here. This wasn’t going as well as she thought it would.
The disagreement between her and Toji made her feel weird. She didn’t like fighting with him, and now silence filled the tension for the next hour as they got ready for a day at the beach. She thought about her family, her mom, her aunt, she just wished that everyone was on one accord. But more importantly, she didn’t want to be at odds with Toji. 
She watched as Megumi was now fully dressed but asleep on the bed, Toji still within the shower as she was left alone to stare at herself. She stood in a royal blue bikini top and bottom, golden seashells clasped beneath the material under her breasts. She turned to the side, seeing her belly poking out in a way that made her feel huge. She could feel her eyes watering. 
Why couldn’t she stop feeling like this? Why did she wish she was within her regular body, feeling confident and sexy? For herself? For her fiancée? For herself?
She pulled her hair behind her ear as she heard the bathroom open, now feeling Toji’s broad frame beside her, his arms coming around from behind. Her body immediately leaned back against him.
She said softly, “I feel like…I don’t belong in this bikini.”
His muscles flex as he pulls her in closer to him. He leans down, his chin resting on her shoulder as he looks at her through the mirror. 
"Why do you say that?" he asks, his voice gruff but gentle. "You look fuckin’ perfect, baby."
She keeps her eyes down, not wanting to make herself cry, “I don’t know…maybe I should put something else on.”
"You don't have to put something else on," he says, his voice low. He brings his arm around her shoulders and neck, kissing her ear as he says, “You’re the most gorgeous woman on the planet.” 
She holds onto his arm, “You have to say that. You’ll be my husband soon.” 
“And I’ll say it a million times until you know I mean everything I say. Cut that self-deprecation shit out.”
She jumps lightly as she feels his palm slam along her ass, a breathless laugh leaving her lips as she rubs the tears that are trying to form in her eyes.
“I’m okay,” she convinces herself, bringing her eyes up as she says, “You look nice.”
Toji smirks as she glances up at him through the mirror, her eyes raking over his bare chest and the towel hanging low on his hips. It’s obvious how she’s trying to change the subject, but he doesn’t mind. 
“Don’t start flirting with me now, I’ll blush like a school boy,” he teases, his eyes glimmering with mischief as he grins at her reflection.
She laughs softly, leaning her face into his arm, inhaling the scent of his cologne. She then whispers, “I don’t…I don’t like when we fight.”
“Neither do I,” he agrees, his voice quieter now. “You’re not scared of your family,” he says, repeating the point he made earlier, “But don’t let them walk all over you, yeah?”
She nods her head, tilting her head to look back at him, “You love me? You won’t throw me into the ocean with the fish?”
Toji grins down at her, his eyes sparkling as he leans his face closer to hers. “I love you, momma. More than you know,” He then chuckles lightly, pretending to ponder over her question. “I may throw you in the water later, though.”
She rolls her eyes, leaning up as she kisses him again. 
The rest of the day had gone more pleasant than either of them expected, assuming the chaos of this morning would roll over into the day. Instead, the family enjoyed their time together. They went out to the water to jet ski, Seioni’s mom and her father on one, Nova by himself, and Toji pulling a fearful Seioni on his own while Celeste and Megumi watched from the boat—Celeste taking videos, per usual. Seioni shrieked as they sped on the vehicle, holding onto him tightly as he perfectly maneuvered throughout the crisp water.
He gunned the engine, causing the jet ski to leap forward, Seioni’s screams and giggles piercing the air. Everyone cheered as they coasted along the water, exploring the sight of the island, seeing the beauty of it from this perspective. When they were back on land they tried out Hawaiian snacks, Seioni for a moment seeing her mother and Toji getting along, cracking jokes with one another in a way that made her happy. She knew him, her brother and her father would immediately click. But to see Toji become close with her mom and aunt, it made her feel warm.
As the sun began to set and the sky turned brilliant hues of orange, pink, and gold, Seioni's family gathered for a barbecue dinner on the beach. They had cooked burgers and hot dogs on grills and set out side dishes and beverages on a long table. Toji sat next to Seioni, one arm around her chair as they all enjoyed the meal together.
In the soft flickering light of the torches and the glow of the sunset, Seioni found herself feeling a sense of peace and contentment that she hadn't expected to feel on this vacation.
They laid out along the sand as they were in a vicious game of Uno, her aunt and mom on their third fruity drinks, giggling as they talked shit to each other. 
Seioni rolled her eyes as she put down her card, “The color is…red!”
Toji laughed as Seioni declared the color, her aunt and mom groaning with frustration. The game had been going on for a while now, with all of them getting progressively more competitive as the drinks continued to flow. 
"You guys need to pay attention," Seioni teased, unable to contain her smirk as she watched her mom and aunt pout. Saanaà rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her drink as she said, "We're trying."
Her aunt chimed in with a scoff, "Yeah. It's not our fault that the colors are confusing, especially at night."
Toji chimed in, his voice laced with amusement, "Or maybe y’all are just tipsy as hell.”
“Red looks orange to me!” Celeste shook her head, Nova saying, “Orange isn’t even a color!”
The group burst out laughing at that. As they continued to place their cards down, Megumi sat beside Toji, playing in the sand. He stood on his small feet to get a better leverage on the castle Toji had helped him make earlier, but as he leaned against the sand, he began tugging at the shorts he wore, reaching for his diaper.
Seioni notices him tugging at his bottoms, calling him as she asks, “Meggie, go potty?”
He looked at her, nodding vigorously, “Potty.” 
He attempted to get up, but his small feet immediately sank back into the sand, causing him to lose his balance and stumble back down. Toji chuckled, reaching out to scoop him into his arms as he swiftly tugged his diaper open, catching a waft of stench in the baby’s pants. 
“Fuckin’ hell, Meg. Why didn’t you say potty? You don’t want to get a rash,” he talks more to himself, knowing Megumi couldn’t actually respond. Megumi babbles, wrapping his arms around Toji’s neck to hide himself, always becoming shy when he had an accident, knowing they’d been trying to get him on the toilet. 
“That’s because he can barely speak to say he needs to shit. Maybe y’all should’ve taught him that,” Seioni’s mom says, and it almost feels like an insult. With the way everyone went quiet,  it probably was. 
“Mom,” Seioni warns, “He’s two. He’s not gonna speak like the rest of us. He makes gestures when he needs something.” 
“Oh don’t give me that age bullshit, you and Nova knew how to speak perfectly at two. Knew colors. Even could count to fifty. It’s about the parent, and their lack of teaching to their child.”
Toji narrows his eyes, letting his mouth draw first as he questions, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 
“Toji,” Seioni scolds.
“My kid is doing perfectly fuckin’ fine, last time I checked,” Toji sharply replies, “We’re good as fuck over here.”
"The toilet exists yet he still shits himself!" Her mom retorts back, and Toji has to bite his tongue, holding back the urge to curse this woman out. 
“Just say he isn’t fully developed. You don’t have to give excuses, we can teach him something you might not be able to,” Saanaà finalizes, taking another sip of her wine cooler. 
Luckily, Seioni’s dad interrupts the growing tension—before Toji can rip this woman’s head off—his gentle voice trying to diffuse the situation. "Hey, hey. Let's not start fighting. Meggie's just fine.”
Seioni then agrees with a frown, “He’s doing just fine for his age. You’re tipsy.”
“Don’t tell me what the fuck I am, little girl! I’m a grown ass woman, I can drink when I wanna drink!”
“Don’t think ‘cause you got a lil’ family you can start talking to us crazy!” Her aunt pipes in. 
Seioni presses her lips together, watching as Toji then stands from his spot, taking Megumi as they begin making their way back towards the villa. He was upset with her for not only saying anything back to her family, but not defending him, knowing if he defended himself it would cause problems.
Her brother helps her stand from her spot before she follows Toji back into the villa, making her way upstairs as she finds him changing Megumi’s diaper. 
“Baby—“
“Nah. Don’t do that, Seioni. You know that shit was disrespectful as fuck.”
“I know that,” she says back, stepping farther into the door.
“You just sat there and let them say that about Megumi? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Seioni’s eyebrows lower, “‘The fuck do you mean by that? I can’t control my mom’s mouth, nor my aunts. I didn’t expect them to say any of that, Fushiguro.”
“It ain’t ‘bout your mom,” Toji snaps, his jaw clenching as his tone gets louder. He hates how she’s now addressing him by his last name, and with an annoyed grunt, he adds, “You could’ve at least said something about it. Defend us. Me. Something.”  
“You’re a grown ass man, Fushiguro. You could’ve told them something, you didn’t seem too afraid to start snapping up on my mom the minute she started talking about Megumi. Let’s talk about your disrespectful, big headed ass!” She insults, coming closer to him, her head tilting up as he towers over her frame.
Toji scoffs, the corner of his lip lifting up in a sneer. “My disrespectful, big headed ass? My disrespectful ass??”
“How about your disrespectful ass not saying anything when your mom insults our family. That’s what has me pissed. You didn’t stick up for your own motherfuckin’ so-called husband.” 
They’re going back and forth, not realizing that the rest of the family has entered the house. Her aunt and mother are too in their own world to hear the argument, her father trying to sober them up as her brother overhears. 
Nova quickly comes upstairs as he then says, “Hey, uh—I can take Megumi downstairs, I’m gonna make some smoothies, I think he’ll like it?” Trying to make sure the baby wasn’t within the room for their argument.
Toji’s eyes dart towards her brother as he appears, watching as he extends his hands towards Meg, reaching to pick him up. Toji nods and hands the child gently over to him, watching as he leaves the room. 
When he’s out of sight, Toji’s attention turns back to Seioni, focusing his scowl back on her. His face is stern, his hand running through his hair as he speaks, his voice quieter. 
“You should’ve said something. Anything, Seioni.” 
“So all of this is my fault? Let’s not act like you don’t have a fuckin’ mouth on you that I have to constantly put on a leash. What she said was wrong, but to point fingers at me? Fuck that, and fuck you!”
Those words hit right where he didn’t want them to, and a bitter laugh leaves his lips as he shakes his head. 
“This is what the fuck I was talking about. I’ve been so patient with your family. Your mom. Your aunt. Waking me up early as fuck as if I’ve slept, letting them walk all over you and tell you what to do as if you aren’t a grown ass woman. My fuckin’ woman. And now, telling me how to raise my kid? I’ve really been sparing your ass on the civil fact that I don’t want to get into it with your people. I love you too much to do that.”
“Oh, I’m supposed to be thankful on account of that? For not cussing out my mom and aunt? Man of the fuckin’ year, aren’t you?” She tilts her head, her body practically fuming as she becomes more pissed off, “You’re right. They’re a pain in the ass, I know that. You’re smart as fuck to not fix your mouth to say some slick shit to my momma. But instead of taking your lashings out on me, be a man and tell them that yourself! You can use your words without talking out of your neck, Fushiguro!” 
“I am a fuckin’ man!” He shouts, “A man wouldn’t talk out the side of his neck to your family! I’m trying not to act an ass, but you’re taking me there. They’re taking me there. Stop talking to me like I’m stupid as fuck, Seioni.” 
Seioni nearly flinches back at his tone, the anger seeping between them implausible. It's evident he’d been feeling like this for a while, and the reaction was worse than she wanted it to be. When she goes to open her mouth, it’s cut off by the sudden sound of screaming coming from downstairs—they belonged to Megumi. 
The both of them take off without question. When they take sight of the living room, they see Megumi standing in the middle of the marble, holding his arm that’s welted red.
“What happened?” Toji snarls, Seioni immediately picking him up, her heart beating as she says, “What happened to your arm?”
“I looked away for two seconds and his little bad ass put one of his toys in the toilet, and now it’s overflowed!” Her aunt shouts, the look on her brother and father’s face full of shock.
“Did you hit him?” Seioni’s eyes go wide, Megumi’s heavy crying filling her ear as he leans into her chest.
Toji thought he was going to have to kill someone. He saw red, only focused on the welt within his child’s arm. He looks to her mom as he squints, “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Why would you hit him? My fuckin’ child? Are you fuckin’ stupid?”
“He needs to learn! Y’all don’t seem to be teaching him shit! putting goddamn toys in the toilet—“
“That's for me to teach him!” Toji yells, deep voice having the entire villa shake, “You don’t get to tell me what the fuck to do about my kid! You and your insolent ass sister have too much liquor in your fuckin’ systems to have some sense!” 
“Aye, watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re talking to my mom,” Nova warns, Seioni’s brother now glaring at Toji.
Toji was done.
“Or what, huh? ‘The fuck are you gonna do?” Toji’s fists clenched, his muscles becoming tense as he looked at Nova. “You wanna throw hands over your mom, you go right ahead. I’ll make you swallow your motherfuckin’ teeth.” 
Chaos ensues at this point. Megumi was still crying, Seioni tries to hold back Toji who lunges at Nova, and Seioni’s father holds back Nova who cusses out Toji right behind her mom and aunt that do the same. She feels overwhelmed, her worst fears coming to life—her entire family was falling apart. It gets so bad that the villa’s host had heard them from his part of the house, coming in and taking hold of Megumi who nearly falls in Seioni’s arms from tugging at Toji. 
“Stop it!” 
Her voice screams out, gripping Toji fully, tears masking in her vision, her cries catching the attention of the entire family—they’d never heard her raise her voice like that.
They all go silent, even Toji, who is breathing heavily. They all look at Seioni, and Toji is just surprised to be witnessing her on the verge of tears. She’d never looked so distraught. 
The room is filled with silence before her voice speaks up again, this time much less aggressive, much more vulnerable, almost like she was begging to be heard.
“This trip was supposed to be about me. I’ve been all over the place with this pregnancy, and the one thing I wanted was the support of all of you, and to enjoy my time here with my family, and yours all about to fuckin’ kill each other!” 
She raises her voice again, the entire room flinching, shocked to see her like this. She places her hand over her face as she sobs, trying to calm herself as she begins hyperventilating, “I didn’t…I didn’t even get to see one venue…”
The sight of her crying like this makes Toji’s heart want to drop. He frowns, becoming more pissed off at how upset they’ve all made her.
“Baby—“
“No, Fushiguro. Everything’s just…fucking ruined…” she continues to cry, high pitched as she gasps to try to control her breathing.
Toji swallows the lump in his throat, his chest feeling heavy as she speaks. She’s right, this was supposed to be about her, a time for her to get away from all the stress of pregnancy and relax. But instead, they all got wrapped up in their own emotions. 
Everyone feels a pang of guilt. The silence is heavy as Megumi blinks within the hosts’ arms, seeing Seioni’s tears, trying to understand her emotions. 
“Oni’, sad?”
She hears the small voice, her focus now going back to him. He shouldn’t have had to see the bullshit of this situation. 
With that, she politely takes him into her arms, cradling him as she begins making her way out of the villa. Toji’s deep voice calls for her, “Seioni—Seioni!”  going to go after her when her father then says, “Just let her go, Toji. She’ll be fine. She just needs time.”
Toji grinds his teeth at those words, wanting to go after her. He hates leaving her alone when she’s upset, but her father was right. She just needed some time. But that didn’t make leaving any easier. 
He sighs, running his hand through his hair as he closes his eyes, his jaw clenching as he looks back at her family. Nova looks upset, her mom and aunt looking somewhat guilty. No one dared to speak after their outburst, so the living room remained tense.
Seioni makes her way out onto the beach, going farther than she planned for herself to. She walked for what felt like almost twenty minutes, finding a small patch of rocks, a seating area with flowers surrounding it. She sees from afar as children play by the water, placing Megumi beside her as she clumps the sand up for his attention, just needing the comfort of him knowing he wouldn’t have much to say. She then sighs, watching as the sun sets, placing her hands over her belly, rubbing gently. 
“You’re causing havoc before you even get here, Y’know that?” She looks down to her stomach.
The evening wind blows as the sun slowly falls, washing over Seioni’s face, which is puffy and red from her previous tears. As she sits on the little rock, she speaks to her belly, the sound of her baby’s heartbeat filling her ears as she touches her stomach. She finds herself surrounded by tranquility, the soft waves of the water and the laughter of children bringing her comfort.
She then looks at Megumi, leaning her hand out as he wraps his small fingers around her index. She says softly to him, “Oni’ love Megumi. And Papa.”
Megumi takes hold of her finger, his tiny hand around her index. His large round eyes look up at her, a look of curiosity within his gaze. His little nose scrunches as he tries to say something back, but nothing comes out aside from a few babbles, making his little pink lips pursed together.
She giggles, opening her palm as he pats his hand against hers a couple of times, blowing raspberries into his other hand. All of her guilt hits her, despite everyone being the cause of their own issues. She wished her mom and aunt hadn’t been so rude at times, she wishes Toji wasn’t so easy to anger, but she also wishes that she had stood up for him, for Megumi. She loved them both so much, and this was now her family as well. With that, she decides to sit in silence with Megumi, watching as the sun goes down.
                        ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆ ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.  𐦍༘⋆
A COUPLE HOURS HAD PASSED, and the family was becoming more nervous. When they realized that Seioni wasn’t anywhere near the villa, they also found out she didn’t have her phone. They sent the host to go look for her, Toji nearly about to have a nervous breakdown as he thought the worse.
“I’m sure she’s fine, Toji,” Noel tells him, trying to get him to relax.
“She doesn’t have her phone, and she’s on an island she’s never been to. Pregnant. With fuckin’ Megumi,” he’s angry, he’s unsure why, he just wants to see her. Make sure she’s okay. Was she lost?
“Talking to her while she’s still upset won’t do anything but make shit worse,” he reminds.
Her mother and aunt sit along the couch, now drinking water instead of their usual mimosa or wine cooler. They both feel bad about the way they’ve been speaking to Seioni and her fiancè. 
Her aunt sighs, “Look—we’re so sorry, Toji. Everything that happened was just—wrong. Our control issues, hitting Megumi, trying to tell you what to do—You’re a good father, and will be an amazing husband.”
Her mom then nods her head, “She’s right. We’re happy to have you in our family, Toji. We’re so sorry about everything that’s happened.”
Toji exhales deeply, the words from her mother and aunt bringing him a sense of comfort, though he's still anxious as to when she'd return. He glances out the windows, the sun fully falling now in the distance. 
"We can talk about this later, but I appreciate it. I just wanna make sure my wife is okay.”
“We’ cool too, right? I only was about to fight cause you were talking crazy to my momma, although it was fair. She get on my damn nerves too, you’re cool as fuck, though,” Nova finds his way of apologizing, his mom smacking the back of his head for his words.
Toji lets out a gruff sigh and turns to Nova, giving him a small nod. He didn't blame the guy for being protective, he probably would've done the same thing. His words get a small laugh from him. 
"We’re good. You were trying to look out for your mom. I can't blame you for that.“
Tension comes off of everyone, and the room feels lighter. But one thing remained the same—Seioni was still missing. 
Another hour and a half passed, and Toji was now frustrated, still worried, but even more irritated. She entered back into the villa without saying anything, holding Megumi’s hand as she let him walk.  
The minute she closed the door, Toji was the first one to speak up, “And where the fuck have you been?”
He couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean to be harsh, but he missed her greatly. He was scared shitless for anything to happen to her. 
Seioni lets go of Megumi, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks at Toji, not replying to his aggression. 
Her mom takes that notion as she stands, “How about we all go take a walk on the beach and let these two talk, hm?”
Nova swoops Megumi into his arms, everyone practically flying out of the house—including the host—closing the door behind themselves. Seioni then begins making her way upstairs, Toji nearly breaking his neck as he watches her walk away from him, saying nothing. He of course follows behind her.
“So I’m not talking right now? ‘The fuck am I being ignored for?”
“I’m fine, Toji. Okay? I’m fine, you see? I’m here,” she clarifies, “I just needed space.”
"You've been gone for damn near three hours. Excuse me for being worried.” He snaps back, his worry slowly becoming anger. He steps closer towards her, his voice still low. 
“What if something happened? You didn’t have your phone, alone on an fuckin’ island—“
Her usual response would’ve been to snap back at him. But she can see the tense in his shoulders, the drain in his face. She comes forward, bringing her hands to his face as she pulls him down, “Hey,” she says softly, “I’m fine, Fushiguro.” 
She knows he’s not angry at her— he was terrified—and didn’t know how to show it. She can feel him nearly shaking, wrapping her arms around his neck as she inhales his scent.
 She says quietly, “I missed you too.”
When she grabs his face, he almost flinches, not anticipating the action. But as soon as she speaks, his shoulders slightly relax. 
He feels her arms around his neck, and his arms instinctively go to her waist, his hands grabbing her hips as he tugs her body against his. He buries his face into her neck, breathing her in as he feels himself shake. His voice is hoarse as he talks, not pulling away from her just yet. 
“I was scared as hell.”
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, “I just…needed time to think.” 
Her tone makes him replay everything that’s happened on this trip, and he feels guilty, wishing he would’ve been more upfront about his feelings, wishing it hadn’t gotten this far.
“I’m sorry too,” he says, his voice quiet. His hands tighten around her hips as he moves his face close to hers. “I should’ve been honest.”
She then pulls him back down, clutching him as if she feels like he would pull away at any second. She muffles into his shirt, “You’re a great dad—please know that. You’ll be an equally amazing husband, baby.”
He closes his eyes and buries his face back into her neck, his chest rising and falling as he tries to slow his racing heart. Her words bring comfort to him, and they make him feel better, but he can’t stop feeling guilty about what’s happened. 
“I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much,” he grunts into her neck.
“I love you too,” she says softly, “I’m sorry I’ve also been…distant. I’m just—I’m not used to this whole pregnancy thing. I feel like…I’m not as attractive as I used to be.”
He listens intently as she speaks, feeling her breath against his neck. He pulls back to look at her, seeing the look of vulnerability across her features. It makes his chest clench tighter, seeing the insecurity in her eyes. 
“You are,” he says, his voice firm yet soft, “You’re sexy as hell, baby. You couldn’t change that even if you wanted to.” He gently touches her face, his eyes staring into hers.
Here go those tears she’d been trying to hold. Seioni gives a weak laugh as she quickly tries to wipe face, Toji brushing her cheek as he drags his hands down to her throat, clutching her forward, his eyes growing dark as he can feel she doesn’t believe his words.  
He grunts, “C’mere,” clutching her lips under his mouth. The aggression makes Seioni’s breath hitch, her tears spraying along her cheeks as she feels his body radiating a feeling she hadn’t endured in a while—lust. And he had been so patient with her.
“Toji—“
 Her voice is of a desperation he hadn’t heard in a while, her legs feeling weak as his lips are against her neck, quipping a match along her skin, blazing a fire within him. God, he’s missed the sound of her.
The way his body heats up as he kisses her, he can’t help but feel overwhelmed with desire, and it only gets worse the more tears fall down her cheeks. He has to show her what she means to him. 
She squeals lightly as he effortlessly wraps her legs around his hips, carrying her over towards the bed. Her eyes stare right across from the large mirror within their room. Her reflection. A heart beat thumps in Seioni’s chest as he raises her legs over his shoulders, dropping down onto his knees, ache, hunger within his eyes as hers are closed. 
“Keep your fuckin’ eyes open. Look at me.”
Her gasp could’ve shaken the house. He shoved her dress back, his tongue instantly dragging up her core, moaning against her like she was a desert he hadn’t tasted in a while. 
“Been wanting your pussy in my mouth since we got here, Baby. Fuck.” 
Seioni legs tremble to where she couldn’t control them, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she gripped his hair, kneeling back as her chest faltered. His head bobs up and down, slurping against her pussy in a way that makes a loud sound against the room. Her body quivers as she whimpers, “O—Oh—f—fuck, baby.”
Toji growls against her, the vibrations sending shudders through her body. His hands move to grip her thighs, holding her in place as he continues to devour her. He pulls back momentarily, panting heavily as he looks up at her. "You're so fuckin’ wet," he groans, his fingers tracing circles on her inner thigh. “I missed the taste of you." 
Seioni’s body buzzes as his head quickly dips back down between her legs, his tongue delving inside of her once again. He uses one hand to spread her opening wider, allowing his tongue to explore every inch of her. He licks and sucks at her clit, nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh before moving lower to lap at her entrance.
She feels flustered, her face warm as she looks at herself within the mirror. Her large belly, her flushed cheeks. She closes her eyes again. Her heart skips a beat when she feels one of his hands snake up through her body, pulling her face right to the mirror across from them, spreading her legs wider. 
His free hand reaches around to cup one of her breasts, thumb rubbing over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear as he whispers, "So beautiful... I want to fuck you everywhere..."
Her breath hitches in response, “Baby, I…” 
“That’s not my name,” Toji grunts, bringing his face back down, sucking her clit into his mouth, groaning as he shakes his head from side to side, digging his lips deeper against her arousal that begins collecting against his jaw. 
He holds her leg up by the ankles now, “Look at me eating your pussy, fuckin’ love every second of it. You taste like heaven. Can’t fuckin’ get enough of you.” 
She nearly throws her hands over her face, the warmth going into pure heat as she whimpers, “Stop it, Fushiguro,” shuddering as he deeply kisses her core, dragging his tongue down to her opening. 
“Shut the fuck up. Gonna put my tongue in you so deep, baby. Wanna see you squirt on my face. I miss that shit.”
She gasps, placing her hands back in his hair as he does exactly what he promised, spitting against her core before he takes it back into his mouth. He then pulls back, sticking his tongue out as he pushes it into her opening, listening to it squelch. He moans right when she moans, spreading her legs wider, rolling his jaw forward as he fucks his mouth deeper into her.
Toji continues to feast on Seioni's wet folds. He can't get enough of her taste, his tip throbbing painfully against his pants. The sounds she makes only serve to spur him on, driving him wild with lust. He feels her grip his hair tightly, her hips bucking against his face as she tries to chase her release.
He pulls back momentarily, panting heavily as he stares up at her. His eyes are glazed with desire, his lips glistening with her juices. He grins wickedly as he sees the desperation in her eyes, his own need mirrored there. "Not gonna stop until you cum all over my face," he growls, diving back in with renewed vigor.
The feeling is all too intense for her, body shaking as she messily groans, “Mmm—f—fuck,” it transferring out into a gasp and whine, her lower body relaxing as she cums  into his mouth, not giving her enough time to enjoy the feeling of him eating at her. The reaction makes him arrogantly chuckle, her body jumping more as he spanks her in response, “Ooh, that’s fuckin’ good baby. You’re sensitive. You’re gonna cum on my dick just like that.”
She feels like she could black out at any moment, holding onto him for dear life as he brings his attention back up to her clit. He then takes two of his fingers, sliding them deep into her. Her pussy pushes out air as a reaction, her head falling back as she whines in response, staring down as she whimpers, “Fushiguro…”
"So fuckin’ tight," he groans, his free hand reaching down to unzip his pants. His tip springs free, already leaking pre-cum, needing her.
“Fingers feel too big,” she whimpers, the longing of anything inside her making her feel a pinch at just his fingers—she wasn’t sure what she could handle. 
“I’m gonna stretch your shit out, give you the dick you’ve been crying for,” he grunts, his fingers slamming into her, sloshing against her walls, erogenous and fluttering around his palm. 
“Missed your fuckin’ pussy, baby,” he leans down, giving a gentle kiss on her thigh, “You’ missed me?” 
Seioni let out a deep breath, nodding her head as she whimpered out, “Missed you so much, baby.”
His eyes go dark, reminding her, “That’s not my name. You’ know my fuckin’ name. Say that shit.”
She felt herself falling apart already, her mind and body feeling fuzzy as she spreads her legs wider, “Keep eating my pussy,” she begs to him, another spank palming along the back of her thigh.
His eyes came up, “You’re begging me now?” 
She nods her head, “Want it so bad,” she whimpers. 
“No you don’t. Keep fuckin’ begging.”
She holds him by his hair, grinding her pussy against his face, sucking air into her mouth as his tongue delves in and out of her, the spread of her legs feeling so good. She felt like an addict, suddenly needing more from him.
His smirk grows wider at her response, his fingers digging into her thighs as he keeps going. His tongue swirls around her clit before sucking it into his mouth, humming in delight at the taste of her.
“N—Need more of you so fuckin’ bad, baby. Please…” she begs, bringing her hands to where her legs are, holding them up herself.
 It makes him chuckle, “You’re fuckin’ nasty, baby,” grunting, spanking her in repetitions. 
When he comes up, her arms feel numb as she tries to grip onto him, his tongue sliding into her mouth as he huffs to her, “Taste yourself,” gripping her throat.
He can feel her shaking, her body trembling. It had been a while since she felt this good, a slight pressure releasing, but not fully. As he stands, he clutches her by her hair, pulling her to where she gets on her knees, dragging her back towards the edge of the bed as he says, “You know how I want you—get on all fours.”
She complies, almost missing this side of him, the primal, animalistic side he tried to hold back with her pregnancy. She obliges, pressing her palms and knees against the bed, arching herself to the best of her ability. Her cheeks feel warm as she’s still looking directly at herself. 
He briefly pauses his dominant gestures as he asks, “You’ okay, baby? Need a pillow so you’re comfortable?”
She blinks, then nods her head. That didn’t feel like enough to him. 
“Use your fuckin’ words,” he commands with a grip to her hair, his palm lightly patting against her face. She nods, becoming more aroused as she says softly, “Yes, please. Thank you, Daddy.”
It’s all he’d been looking for. 
He takes a pillow as he places it under her belly, giving her another soft kiss, then making her entire body jump as he spanks her with his palm. She watches as he removes his shirt, her mouth practically watering at the sight of him. She places her hands along his hard stomach, running her fingers down as she moans, “Missed you so-so much, baby.”
She’s tugging at his pants, unable to help herself as she’s pulling his dick from beneath his boxers, already wrapping her lips around his tip. Her eyes are feline, mischievous as she wraps her fingers around the base of him, bobbing her head as she begins to seductively suck.
She sticks her tongue out, slapping it along her taste buds that makes him smirk down, tugging her hair as he gently smacks his hand along her face, “Missed my dick like that, huh?” 
She nods her head, the shyness she had before trying to break its walls down. He groans as she pulls her head forward, shoving his dick into the back of her throat, filling her entire mouth as her eyes roll to the back of her head, jaw lax as she chokes. It makes his head tilt back, gritting his teeth as he reaches forward, slamming his palm against her ass.
She pulls him out of her mouth as she rotates her hand against his tip, “Want you to fuck me from behind, please.”
In a way, he feels evil. Purposely wanting her in front of the mirror—he loved watching her, and he loved to make her watch herself. 
He’s now behind her, making sure the pillow is directly beneath her stomach, pressing kisses along her neck, clutching her throat from behind. He then pulls himself up, his broad frame large above hers, eyes dark as he watches her face. 
Seioni’s hips jerk as she feels his tip in between her folds, swollen and calling to pull him in. 
They both listen to themselves, a tight clutch returning  in the mess of her hair as he slowly and agonizingly pushes into her. Her eyes fall close, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her. She digs her teeth into her lip, desperately trying to hold back the music that wants to spill from her mouth. But as he wraps his fingers around her throat from behind, mouth by her ear as he says, “Wanna feel just how much you miss me,” rolling his hips deeper into her, Seioni’s eyes roll to the back of her head, a whine shivering from her lips as she cums again, gushing out after several seconds. 
His fingers somehow slide into her mouth as she loses her mind, moaning incoherently as she pants against his palm, eyes striking back to the mirror. Toji groans against her throat, sultrily laughing as he begins dragging her back onto him, grinding his hips forward, listening to their skin clap together. 
“Shit,” baby,” she moans onto his fingers, Toji against her ear as he grunts, “Yeah? This all you wanted?” 
He clutches her mouth, the bite of her teeth is the grip he has on her, Seioni only able to hear the way their skin latches onto one another before letting go, wanting to hear it again, again, and again. 
“Fuck, Daddy,” she whines, unable to hold her mouth back, feeling like she was about to spiral.
Her body felt on overdrive, it being so long since she felt this type of pleasure. Her eyes watch them within the mirror, Toji’s broad frame practically shadowing hers, tugging her back onto his abdomen, the sound within the room too filthy to listen to. 
She turns her head slightly, her eyes looking up to his as she trembles, “Missed you…missed you inside me…”
Toji growls, "You don't need to miss anything, baby." He rolls his hips, pushing his length deeper into her warmth. "Just let me take care of you.”
She then whimpered softly, “…Feeling a little uncomfortable though, baby,” the position making her back begin to ache from the arch of it, an unfortunate case from her pregnancy. 
He obviously didn’t want to hurt her, taking the pillow and laying it horizontally, positioning her body to where she now lays on her side against the bed. He positions himself behind her as he holds one of her legs upwards, making sure the both of them are still reflected into the mirror.
His hand rubs over her stomach affectionately, positioning his tip between her folds from behind, his palm coming between her legs. He then lifts her outer leg, finding her clit and rubbing gently as he asks, “Feel good, baby? Need to stop?” All while peppering kisses against her neck. She grabs his hair from behind, moaning softly as she nods her head, “I’m okay…Keep going, please.”
He groans deeply as he thrusts into her, his hand reaching around to cup her breasts. He continues to move in and out of her, his thrusts deep and powerful, lips attaching to her ear, the feeling making her shiver. When his hand clasps back around for her throat,her eyes appear back open, seeing the sight in front of her. His broad frame captures from behind, holding her leg with one hand, clasping her throat with the other, eyes dark and hooded, grunting within her ear. She realizes just how much this man found her attractive, and it made her more horny. He loved her.
“Look at you,” he talks within her ear, holding her down as he snaps his hips, “So fuckin’ pretty, so fuckin’ needy for me. Missed you…so fuckin’ much baby…” he grunts out the last words, it slipping into a moan, Seioni turning her head, sticking her tongue out in a way of asking for a kiss.
He leans down, capturing her lips in a rough, passionate kiss. His free hand reaches up to grip her hair, pulling it slightly as he pushes his dick deeper inside of her.
When her eyes fall down to the bed, Toji grips her face, pointing her directly at the mirror as he says, “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Gonna have all my kids, my fuckin’ wife.” ” 
His voice makes something within her feel emotional. All of her insecurities melted into her brain, her eyes feeling like they were close to filling with tears as she moaned within his mouth, clutching his face in her hands as she whimpered, attempting not to allow herself to cry. 
“Don’t cry, baby. You’re too pretty for that,” he grunts, yanking her hips back, “Cry cause’ I’m fuckin’ you so good.” 
She whimpers again, “You’re just saying all that ‘cause you love me.”
He chuckles, "Maybe." He continues thrusting into her, his pace unrelenting. His hand leaves her hip, moving down to her clit where he begins rubbing circles around it. "But mostly 'cause you're driving me fuckin’ crazy," he growls, nipping at her earlobe.
She twists her head, raising her face to meet his mouth as she trembles, “L—Love you so much…”
“Only other times you’re sweet and shit,” he says against her ear, listening to the way she trembles out another gasp, “Is when you’re about to cum.”
He takes one hand as he places it along her shoulder, the other on her hip, eyes dropping down to watch the way her ass bounces onto his abdomen, leaving a collection of arousal each time he digs deeper into her.
 He groans, feeling his own orgasm approach rapidly. He lifts her off his dick momentarily, lining himself up before slamming into her harder.
It makes her gasp deeply, her legs quivering to where she tries to press her palm onto her thigh to stop the shaking, feeling a hand grab hers, holding it up to her throat and trapping it along his palm as he fucked her even harder. 
His lips are against her ear, heavily breathing, his own stomach forming butterflies. He tries to suppress the low moan that drops from his mouth as he talks, “All that creaming on my dick, need you to cum.” 
Her voice is gone, eyes flutter shut as she can’t stop hyperventilating, talking through her gasps, “Gonna’ cum, Daddy…”
He snarls, his grip on her wrist tightening. "Then fuckin’ cum on me, Mama," he orders, his thrusts becoming brutal, “Would give you another fuckin’ baby if I could. Pussy is…” he grunts, a sound she hadn’t expected coming from him, a whimper as his eyes tightly shut, “So fuckin’ good, baby. Fuck. I love you.”
That sound sends her over the edge. Her entire body halts as she goes quiet, hearing the sound of herself gushing out, orgasm taking over her entire frame as she hides her face within the sheet, sobbing as he continues slamming her ass down onto his hips. The hand still on her neck drags up to her jaw, forcing her eyes back to the mirror again. 
“Fuckin’ love looking at you…” he pants, “All mine. Gonna be all mine, can’t fuckin’…” he whimpers again, “Can’t wait, baby.” 
He then turns her head, swallowing her sobs as he thrusts harder, clutching her face as he moans into her mouth, it was the hottest thing she’d ever seen. A warmth fills her, their breaths collected together as they pant heavily.
She could still feel Toji’s hand upon her face, dragging his thumb against her jaw, taking in the way she looked at the moment. Vulnerable—connected to him. 
“You’re gonna be an amazing mother, baby.” 
Her eyes come open as she hears that, blinking at his words. It felt meaningful to her, she couldn’t have asked for a better partner. She takes his hand as she kisses it, turning over as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.
As they laid in each other’s embrace, the soft sounds of their breathing filling the air, Toji’s fingers danced along her body. He traced every curve and line, committing every inch of her to memory. He couldn’t help but feel grateful for her to be in his arms. The woman of his dreams was in front of him, in his arms, with their child growing in her womb. 
The moment wasn’t ruined— but felt to be cut short as it sounded like the door opening to the villa. They heard the voice of her brother call, “Aye! Scream if y’all in here fuckin’!”
They then heard the sound of a smack—Nova getting palmed in the back of his head by her mom— as she says, “Shut up! Just cause you can’t get none doesn’t mean they can’t!—but if y’all are in here having sex, have some decorum! There’s a baby in the house!”
Toji grins into Seion’s neck as he hears her mother smack her brother. He presses a gentle kiss into her throat as he chuckles, “There goes your loud ass family.”
“Unfortunately,” she sighs, accepting the kiss, “We should get dressed, I’m starving.” 
“When are you not hungry, Pac-Man?” 
“Oh?” she blinks, “That was a fat joke. I’m gone!”
She holds her belly as she begins coming off of the bed, Toji trying to hold back his laugh as she’s waddling around, searching for the dress she previously wore. 
“You’ laughing? This shit is funny?”
“Nope,” he raises his hands up, “You’ mad? Don’t love me no more? You were just calling me by my second na—“
“Fushiguro!” 
“Why are we going downstairs? We can always stay up here and discuss why I think this baby should be named Toji-Seioni-Megumi-Jr?” 
“I’m never speaking to you again.”
“That’s cool. We got time.”
Seioni groans as she continues waddling for the bathroom, throwing her middle finger up as he sarcastically blows a kiss at her. She was annoyed within the moment, but one thing she could agree to—they had time. An eternity of it.
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idkyetxoxo · 2 days ago
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Aemond Targaryen - Let the World Burn
Summary - In a gripping tale of love and desperation, Aemond's beloved wife is abducted, driving him to unleash his dragon's fury in a relentless search. Fueled by an unwavering resolve, he knew he would let the world burn if it meant finding her and he did just that.
Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader
Warnings - Violence (threat?)
Word count - 2168
Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist
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"Where are you going?" I managed to ask as Aemond untangled himself from our embrace. 
Still breathless, I lay there, recovering slowly, the faint sheen of sweat on my skin testament to our recent intimacy.
He smirked down at me, a self-satisfied grin playing on his lips.
"I'm just fetching us some sustenance. We have a long night ahead," he teased lightly, his eye dancing with amusement. His quick departure left me blushing, and with a fleeting kiss, he was gone.
I reclined on the bed, the cool embrace of the sheets a contrast to the warmth Aemond had left behind. The room was filled with a lingering scent of him, a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely his, a reminder of our closeness. 
Moments passed, the quiet enveloping me like a soothing balm, until the door swung open abruptly. 
"Back so soon?" I inquired, sitting up expectantly, a playful smile on my lips. But it wasn't my husband who returned, instead, a stranger stood before me.
My breath caught in my throat as I gasped, instinctively drawing the sheets around me with trembling hands. "Who are you?" I demanded, my voice quivering with a mix of confusion and unease.
The man held up a cage, his demeanour serious. "Ratcatcher," he stated simply, though his appearance hardly fit the description. 
"There are no rats here, and I do not appreciate uninvited guests," I retorted, eyeing him with suspicion. My heart pounded in my chest, a primal sense of danger prickling at my senses. 
Another man stumbled into the room, bowing respectfully. 
"Princess," he addressed me, and I sighed in frustration, the formality of the title doing little to calm my nerves.
The first man turned to his companion. "His wife?" he asked, receiving a nod in response. "Where's the prince?" he pressed further, his tone becoming more assertive, the implication of his words sinking in like a stone in my stomach.
My apprehension grew as their conversation unfolded. "I don't know where he is," I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. 
Before I could react, the burly man abandoned the cage and loomed over me, a dagger pressing threateningly against my neck.
"What are you doing?" I cried out, attempting to retreat, but his grip on me tightened, keeping me in place on the bed. The cold steel of the blade bit into my skin.
A whirlwind of thoughts raced through my mind, tears welling in my eyes. Fear and panic gripped me as the gravity of the situation dawned. The room seemed to close in around me, the walls pressing down with the weight of impending doom.
"He wants him, not her," the second man interjected, attempting to clarify their intent. The first man scoffed, his voice cold and dismissive. 
"Does your husband love you?" he asked abruptly, and I hesitated, the question striking at my core. Before I could answer, the second man spoke for me.
"He worships the ground she walks on," he affirmed, his voice unwavering. 
The man with the dagger at my throat smirked ominously, the confirmation of my husband's love and devotion fueling his cruel intent.
"Then we take her, and he'll feel every ounce of pain," he declared, pressing the blade harder against my skin. 
The threat hung heavy in the air, sending shivers of fear down my spine. The realization that I was a tool to hurt the man I loved, was almost unbearable.
"Get dressed quickly, or we'll parade you around like this," the second man ordered tersely, his tone brooking no argument. I nodded silently, my mind racing with desperate thoughts. 
The fear of what they might do next propelled me into action.
I dressed under the watchful eyes of my captors, my hands trembling as I pulled on my clothes. My silent pleas for Aemond to return and save me echoed in my mind, a desperate hope that he would somehow sense my peril and come to my rescue.
─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───
Meanwhile, Aemond returned to our chambers, his anticipation of my warm embrace and loving presence turning to confusion and then to mounting dread as he found the room empty. The sheets were dishevelled, a cold reminder of our recent intimacy now tainted by my absence.
His heart pounded in his chest as he noticed something glinting on the floor. It was my ring, the one he had given me on our wedding day, lying discarded as if hastily removed. 
Aemond's hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening with anger and fear. I would never willingly take off that ring, he knew. 
Its absence spoke volumes, a silent accusation hanging in the air.
In a surge of panicked realization, Aemond's mind raced through possibilities, each more horrifying than the last. 
Had I been abducted? Betrayed? Fear for my safety gripped him like a vice, overwhelming any rational thought.
Fighting back rising panic, Aemond forced himself to think clearly. He searched the room frantically, hoping for any clue, any sign of where I might be. His thoughts raced to my last words, our last moments together. 
Had he missed something? Should he have sensed danger?
Unable to contain his worry any longer, Aemond stormed out of the chamber, his footsteps echoing down the castle corridors as he sought answers. Guards and servants alike recoiled from his raw, unbridled fury as he demanded to know if anyone had seen me if anyone knew where I had gone.
The castle buzzed with whispers and hurried exchanges as word of the princess's disappearance spread. Aemond's mind raced with possibilities, none of them offering solace. 
Each passing moment without me felt like an eternity, his anguish deepening with every heartbeat.
Hours stretched into an agonizing wait, filled with uncertainty and dread. Aemond's fists remained clenched, his jaw set in determination. 
He would find me, no matter the cost. His love for me, the very ground on which he walked, fueled his resolve as he vowed to bring me back safely, whatever it took.
─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───
In his frenzied desperation, Aemond mounted Vhagar, his mind clouded by fear and fury. The dragon, sensing her rider's tumultuous emotions, took flight with a thunderous roar that shook the very foundations of the castle. 
Aemond's grip on the reins was tight, his eyes ablaze with a mix of rage and anguish as he soared through the night sky.
Below him, the world blurred into a chaotic whirl of lights and shadows. His vision narrowed to a single purpose, finding me. Thoughts of strategy, of reason, were drowned out by the primal need to reunite with his beloved, to ensure my safety at any cost.
Vhagar's wings beat against the wind as they streaked across the darkened landscape. Aemond's mind replayed every moment, every clue, searching for a trace of me. 
His desperation was palpable, a dark cloud hanging over his heart.
The dragon's fiery breath left a trail of destruction in its wake, forests and fields illuminated by sudden bursts of orange and red as Aemond's anger manifested in the dragon's wrath. Villages and farmlands alike were scorched, the once peaceful night now marred by flames and smoke.
His voice echoed through the night, a guttural "Dracarys!" that symbolized both his determination and his desperation. Dragonfire!
The dragonfire leapt forward, consuming everything in its path, a testament to Aemond's relentless pursuit and unyielding love.
He knew deep down that he would let the world burn if it meant finding me. Flames would consume everything in sight, casting ash into the air and staining the sky blood-orange. 
A fiery testament to his love and possession, ensuring that everyone understood, I was his, and he would move mountains or raze kingdoms to prove it.
As the night stretched on, Aemond's search grew more frantic, the boundaries of his restraint fraying with each passing moment. The sky glowed with the fiery evidence of his passage, a blazing signal of his relentless hunt. 
Aemond's determination was an unstoppable force, driving him to the edge of reason and beyond, fueled by the love that burned brighter than the inferno left in his wake.
Meanwhile, back in King's Landing, my captors found their plans disrupted by the unexpected intervention of Ser Criston Cole. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard intercepted them just as they were about to depart the city. 
The narrow, shadowed alleys echoed with the clash of steel as Criston confronted the men, his blade moving with practised precision.
The struggle was intense but brief. Criston's years of training made him a formidable opponent. He disarmed the first man with a swift strike, sending the dagger skittering across the cobblestones. 
The second man hesitated, his grip on me loosening just enough for Criston to pull me free and shield me behind his armoured form.
With decisive actions, he thwarted their attempt to flee with me, turning the tide in favour of protection and justice. The clinking of chains and the muttered curses of my captors filled the air as they were subdued and bound. 
As I was led away from danger, my thoughts remained fixated on Aemond, my heart torn between relief at my own safety and worry for my beloved.
"Where is Aemond?" I asked Criston, my voice tinged with concern and the weight of uncertainty. 
The chaos of the night felt surreal, and the fear for Aemond's well-being gnawed at my mind.
Criston, ever composed despite the tumultuous events, let out a weary sigh. "Burning the world down," he replied gravely, his words carrying the weight of Aemond's consuming determination and the chaos left in his wake. 
The sombre tone in his voice underscored the gravity of the situation, and my heart ached knowing the lengths Aemond would go to for me.
─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───
Aemond landed Vhagar outside the castle, the dragon's massive wings folding with a soft thud. 
From my vantage point, I watched him dismount with a heavy heart. His every movement betrayed the weight of worry that burdened him as he hurried through the dimly lit corridors, his footsteps echoing with urgency.
Each passing moment felt like an eternity, the anticipation and dread mingling in the air. I remained hidden, breath held, until finally, the door to our chamber burst open with a force that startled me. 
There he stood, framed by the doorway, his expression a tumultuous mix of relief and anguish as our eyes locked in a moment of profound connection.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I rushed into his arms, and Aemond held me tightly, as if afraid I might slip away again. The warmth of his embrace was a balm for my tortured soul, grounding me in the safety of his arms.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered hoarsely, burying his face in my hair. I trembled against him, the fear still clutching at my heart.
"I was so scared, Aemond," I cried, my voice muffled against his chest. "They came for me... I didn't know what would happen. I thought—"
He pulled back slightly, cupping my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears. 
"You're safe now. I'm here," he murmured, his gaze searching mine for any trace of the terror I had endured. His fingers grazed over the wound on my neck, a stark reminder of the ordeal I had faced. 
Anger and guilt flashed across his features.
"What did they do to you?" he breathed, his voice laced with fury. The sight of the mark ignited a fire within him, his protective instincts roaring to life.
I winced at his touch but met his gaze, tears brimming in my eyes. 
"It's nothing, just a scratch. I was terrified, Aemond. They talked about you, they wanted you." My voice trembled as memories flooded back, and I clung to him tighter, seeking solace in his strength.
Aemond's heart ached for my pain, his guilt palpable. "I swear, I'll make them pay for this," he vowed, his voice low and fierce. I shuddered in response, pressing closer to him as if his presence could shield me from the storm of emotions.
"I just want to be safe with you," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."
He nodded, pulling me close again, wrapping his arms around me protectively. 
"You are safe, and I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." The sincerity in his voice resonated deeply, reaffirming the bond forged through our love and the trials we had faced.
As we held each other tightly in that tearful reunion, Aemond reached into his pocket and produced the ring I had dropped as a clue. He gently took my hand and slipped it back onto my finger, his touch tender and reverent.
"This belongs to you," he said softly, his eyes locked on mine. "And so do I."
The only thoughts consuming Aemond now were the myriad ways he would make my captors suffer. He envisioned unleashing the full fury of a dragon upon them, ensuring they experienced every ounce of pain they had inflicted on me. 
The flames of vengeance burned brightly within him, igniting a fierce determination to make them pay for their transgressions.
A/n - Yes, this is inspired by Let the World Burn by Chris Grey and I apologise I've re-read and edited it multiple times but it still feels kinda choppy?
Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy
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snowballseal · 2 days ago
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Guard Dog AU - Zayne
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Summary: AU where you are the Foreseer, and Zayne is a human you've given your blessing to who has devoted his life to staying by your side, protecting you, and worshipping you. He would do anything for you. Anything.
Word County: 2744
Note: Sooooo, I went a bit feral with this one... Could be interpreted as very sub-like behavior for Zayne, but I feel like we all know this man just wants to worship his partner. So yah. I'll be writing similar au's for the other guys too, but this one might be my magnum opus.
Coming soon: Sylus / Xavier / Rafayel
Warning: Gets a little, spicy at the end, but mostly by implication. Reader likes to touch Zayne's face a lot. Someone calls Zayne a concubine and you get pissed.
Enjoy!
---
“Kneel.”
You stare, features a mask of icy indifference, at the human envoy wavering at the foot of your throne. They shiver in their thick coats, no material warm enough to keep out the biting cold of the Tower of Thorns. The biting cold of your glare.
Yet, still, they don’t kneel. You can see the hesitation on their faces, the pride flashing behind their irises. Humans. They always come, high and mighty, thinking themselves better than you, a demigod.
Your lips part, a scathing reproach ready on your tongue, but you don’t get the chance to correct their insolence.
“I said. Kneel.”
Zayne slams his staff into the polished, white granite. The sound of it echoes all the way to the far halls of the tower. The thinly veiled threat behind his words is unmistakable. Kneel before I make you.
The humans all crumble under the weight of his command. They drop to their knees, one by one, trembling at the pure contempt burning behind his gaze. Contempt for them and their human greed. They don’t even deserve to gaze upon the threads of your robes, let alone kneel in your presence, yet they think themselves above it? You may have mercy on their kind, but Zayne would rather cut them to their knees than allow them to show you such disrespect.
A faint smile ghosts across your lips. With the barest flick of your fingers, Zayne returns obediently to your side. He drops gracefully to one knee, head bowed, eyes locked on the unblemished edge of your robes.
It’s almost amusing, watching him turn so docile, so small for you. A man who conquers you in height and strength, who holds himself with the regal poise of royalty, who you’ve blessed with powers no man can dream of - a submissive guard dog at your feet. Ready to kill if you desire him to. Willing to die for you.
“Foreseer-”
Your smile falls away. Right, the humans. Eyes icing over once more, you turn your gaze to the envoy, regarding them with disinterest.
“What do you want, that you’ve come all this way and disturbed my peace?” Your voice rings like a delicate chime, but carries the bite of a frigid river. 
The one who spoke - a man dressed in expensive looking furs, his skin covered in a layer of sweat - flinches at the sharpness of your tone. He seems to steel himself for a moment, collecting whatever pathetic bravery he has gained from his comfortable life, and looks up at you with a determined glare.
“We’ve come here for a prophecy, Foreseer,” he starts again, voice muggish and demanding, “Our kingdom has experienced prosperity in the passing years and our king would like to be certain that it will continue.”
Zayne tenses beside you, his fingers tightening around his staff. You can see him fighting the urge to put this man in his place, his jaw drawing so taut it almost looks painful. Letting out a low hum, you reach out and brush your fingers through the dark strands of hair. A silent request. Zayne wavers, his breath faltering as all his attention falls back on you. 
Always on you. 
Your touch is gentle but insistent, your delicate fingertips tracing his temple, his cheek, his jaw. It leaves his skin tingling, pleasant and cold. It’s an addictive feeling and he can’t help but yearn for more. Zayne nuzzles into your palm, pressing his lips to your skin in reverent gratitude when you give him exactly what he wants, your fingers brushing more firmly against his face.
An uncomfortable cough breaks the silence, “Foreseer-”
“I heard your explanation,” you interrupt him sharply, a wave of frustration washing over you. Zayne can feel it, feels his own frustration at having your attention drawn away from him. But he doesn’t dare make that known, instead watching your face attentively as you speak. “And I will remind you that my prophecies will not be bound to your expectations. They are bound to nothing but fate, so I advise you to deliberate on what you are asking of me.”
“Our King simply wants to ensure that our prosperity will continue,” the man insists, as if you’re the fool who is missing the point. He levels you with a look of disdain, his eyes not so subtly darting to the hand you now have resting in Zayne’s hair. “Though I am certain now that our Highness would not care for the words of a mere oracle who keeps a concubine as her guard.”
The air in the chamber goes deathly still once the words leave his mouth.
Your eyes narrow at the man, glacier and even, but he keeps his chin held high. The rest of the envoy all shift, sharing uneasy glances between themselves. It seems even they know that what he said was a foolish mistake.
One should not anger a god so carelessly.
Slowly, deliberately, you stand from your throne. A flick of your hand and your own scepter appears from the air, the Creatio Protocore glinting dangerously from its tangle of wood. All eyes fall on it, a mix of fear and greed, all eyes except for Zayne’s, which remain glued to you.
Every step you take, every subtle movement, is controlled, the utter definition of grace. Even the air bows to you, shivering around your form, any remaining warmth fleeing from your presence. Tendrils of ice spread along the granite, creeping up the walls, covering the windows, turning the room into a prison of your anger.
And Zayne can’t help but watch, transfixed, adoration curling in the depths of his being. Because this is you, his goddess, his queen. He may be your guardian, but he is well aware that his title is by grace alone, and not necessity. You’ve never needed him. Not like this.
“You seem unaware of whom you speak to,” you murmur, patience tested and gone, “So let me remind you.”
The man lets out a yelp as ice suddenly grips his boots. You feel a flicker of satisfaction at the panic in his eyes, his confidence disappearing like a leaf carried away by the wind. His companions scatter back, looking on in terror as the ice travels up his legs, encasing the entire lower half of his body.
“I am the Foreseer,” you say, stopping a mere foot away from him. “The demigod of the Tower of Thorns. This is my domain, my home, and you are a pest. I owe you nothing. I owe your king nothing. As far as I am concerned, he is beneath me.”
“You insolent- He is our king!” The man spirts, turning a drastic shade of red. “I demand you show him respect, you despicable wi-”
A dagger presses deftly to the man’s neck and he goes silent, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.
“Be silent,” Zayne snarls, “How dare you speak to the Foreseer in such a way.”
You glance at him over the man’s shoulder, brow flicking up. Any other time, it would warm your heart to see Zayne stand up for you, and you would gladly let him cross the boundaries of his position, to act as he sees fit. To act freely. But in this moment, all you can feel is the rage boiling in the depths of your soul. It’s your turn to show them their mistakes.
So you click your tongue, eyes narrowing, “I did not ask for you to intervene, my dearest.”
Zayne doesn’t miss the sharp disapproval in your voice, his breath catching somewhere in his chest. How thoughtless of him. Dagger slipping back into the sleeve of his robes, he forces himself to step back, head bowed like a wolf bearing its neck submissively.
“I apologize, my lady.”
You don’t offer your forgiveness, only giving him a stiff nod, and Zayne can feel his skin prickle with unease. Every fiber of his being aches, desperate to earn your affection, to please you, to offer an apology you deem sufficient.
If you want him to grovel, he will. If you want him to beg, he’ll do so until his voice gives out. Even if you want to punish him, he’d take it with such deep affection, because anything from you is more than he deserves.
But until you ask anything of him, all he can do is wait.
And currently, you must deal with the nuisance in front of you, even if you can feel Zayne’s laden eyes locked on you so intently.
“Now let’s talk about your king, shall we?” You muse, turning your attention back to the man. He swallows, regret showing in the way his hands tremble so viciously. “You humans have such a twisted view of power. Whether it’s money or prosperity or health. You are all subject to fate and that is why you hate my prophecy. Your king is no different, and I presume he’s looking for someone to blame when your land inevitably falls into poverty. In fact, I feel confident in saying he already sees it coming, and I would wager that he is the sole cause of it. Am I wrong?”
A low murmur spreads among the envoy. The man goes nearly purple in front of you, face tight with indignation, but he doesn’t dare utter a word, not with the looming threat of Zayne’s blade still nearby. 
You don’t need him to confirm what you already know, though. And you’ve had enough of this messing around. The day has been too long, and you desire nothing more than to rest.
“Tell your king that this mere oracle wishes him well in his remaining time on the throne,” you chime and turn to walk away. Your voice carries on over the clicking of your heels, “However short that time might be.”
“You can’t-! Foreseer!”
“See them out, my dearest, and then meet me in my quarters.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Foreseer-!” The man calls again, but Zayne doesn’t even allow him another glimpse at your figure. He’s lost that honor.
“I believe it’s time for you to leave,” he snaps, and breaks the spell of your ice.
The man immediately tries to make a run for you, desperation carved into every line of his face, but Zayne catches him by the collar of his coat and throws him back towards the rest of his party. His eyes set on them, harsh and cold, a sneer pulling at his lips.
“She has dismissed you. I suggest you leave quietly before you test my patience.”
“I will not listen to the orders of a-”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a sigil carve into the air before a blinding light fills the space. The humans flee from the sudden ice clawing at their feet, voices tight with panic, boots slipping against the granite in their desperation.
A faint smile pulls at your lips as you dip into a hallway. Zayne always has been good at scaring people away.
It’s a quiet venture to your room at the top of the tower after that. The howling gale outside is all you can hear, muffled by the thick stone of the tower’s walls. It’s a somehow comforting sound, soothing some your prickled nerves.
Still, you feel tense as you settle on the edge of your bed. Dealing with the humans always does this to you. That’s why you ended up here, in the desolate, snowy mountains, far from any village or kingdom. Dealing with them is too exhausting.
How many humans have come to you, begging for an audience, only to throw themselves into a rage after you share one of your prophecies? A prophecy you can’t control, you can’t change. Yet they always blame you. 
You can hardly be blamed for resenting their kind.
All of them except Zayne.
Your dearest. Your steadfast peace. The comfort of your isolation was no match when he came to your tower.
And your frustration melts like snow in the springtime when he appears at your door, wavering at threshold. Hesitation furrows his brow, his fingers twitching against the frame. Features softening, you gesture for him to enter.
“Come here, my dearest,” you murmur, tone impossibly gentle.
He hesitates for only a moment before sweeping across the room, reaching you with only a few long strides. You watch as he kneels at your feet, the thick fur of his robes gathering on the stone floor around him. And of course you notice the way his lips press together so vehemently, like he’s biting back something.
“Please speak, darling.”
Zayne’s eyes flutter shut, a shuddering breath passing his lips. You always say the term with such sweetness, such tenderness. It makes him feel dizzy and near breathless, loved in a way that makes his chest ache.
“May I touch you?” He asks, voice a low rasp.
You don’t even have to think to answer, “Of course you may, my dearest.”
With all the care in the world, Zayne gathers the edge of your robes in his gloved hand, drawing the silken material to his lips. His touch is reverent, like even the clothes on your body are deserving of worship. He takes his time, showering each fiber with devout affection, eyes slowly trailing up the material to gaze at you through ebony eyelashes. And you can’t help the way your breath falters so easily for him, always taken aback by the desperation, the hunger you find there.
Something dark glints behind those mottled depths at the sound. Slowly, experimentally he presses closer. When you don’t correct him, his fingers brush questioningly against your ankle, the warmth of his skin seeping through the leather of his gloves. And you’ve never been one to deny him.
Parting your legs, you let Zayne settle between them, your knees bracketing his wide shoulders. His fingers trace adoringly up and down your leg as he nuzzles into your clothed thigh, like a pup starved for affection. You can feel the warmth of his breath, even through the thick material of your cloak, and it makes your usually sharp mind spin.
“Please forgive my earlier thoughtlessness, my love,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing insistently against your inner thigh. “I will accept any punishment to atone for my actions.”
Gods, you never thought you would be so weak for one man. But how could you not be? How can you not crumble under such earnest devotion?
You’d freeze the world over if it meant having him forever at your side.
“You have quite the tactic for coaxing me to forgive you,” you breathe, reaching a hand down to trace through his hair. Zayne immediately leans into your touch, molten eyes soft with feigned innocence.
“I am simply a humble servant, unworthy of your favor, my lady,” he hums, eyelashes fluttering when your grip tightens momentarily in his hair. It’s only then a mischievous smile reveals itself on his lips. “How can I coax a goddess such as yourself to do something against your will?”
“You know full well what you’re doing, dearest.” You lean down, until your cool breath ghosts over his skin, sending a shiver through Zayne’s body. His bravado slips away, replaced by an uneven breath, his lips parting ever so slightly. “And there’s no need for it. Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, and that includes my forgiveness. All you ever have to do is ask.”
“You shouldn’t offer such things so lightly, my lady,” Zayne rasps, fingers pressing tightly into the softness of your leg as he forces himself to glance away. “You underestimate how selfish my desire for you is. I would take everything if you allowed it.”
Suddenly, your touch is on his chin, drawing his face back to yours, until he can feel the brush of your lips against his, taunting and delicate.
“If you want everything,” you challenge softly, gaze unwavering, “then take it.”
Zayne inhales sharply. And then his lips are on yours, kissing you so deeply, so tenderly, like he wants to draw the very breath from your lungs, like you’re the only one who can sate his hunger burning inside of him.
And you let him. You let him take everything he desires, because he always gives you everything you could ever desire.
That is how it has always been between the two of you. And that’s how it will always be.
---
This felt pretty different from what I usually write. I was inspired by an Xavier fic I read sometime back, and I just loooove the concept of truly feral levels of loyalty. And I love the idea of reader being just a feral for him.
Can't wait to write Sylus' 😉
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with-my-calamitous-love · 3 days ago
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I HAVE A LOT OF REGRETS ABOUT THAT
osamu dazai x reader, 18 dark ages! dazai
you take care of dazai while he’s ill and in a rare moment of vulnerability.
for 🚬 anon! thank you for supporting 🤍
inspired by this is me trying
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he didn’t think it was possible to be so ahead.
he was only 18, and had committed hundreds of crimes. he was a young man, and yet the star pupil of the mafia boss. he had only been in the world for less than a few decades, and yet knew the world better than anyone.
so was he ahead, or was he behind? perhaps he was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere.
his head is pounding, feeling the ache in his eyes. his body feels slack, like its giving up on him despite only just growing it itself. he’s weak, and hiding out in his apartment like a coward. if someone wanted to kill him, now would be the time to do it.
luckily, thats not what you’re here to do. much to his dismay.
he was wary at first, letting you in. he says the usual- that he’ll get you sick and that he can handle himself. but the man who’s wrapped in bandages clearly can’t take care of himself, even if its just a simple cold.
so you trudge in anyway, sighing at his empty fridge with only a few expired contents. how he was surviving was a mystery to you.
so you put together what you can, forging a soup with crab meat so he’ll actually eat it. you don’t know, but he’s watching you from his bedroom.
he’s not used to being taken care of.
truthfully, he could follow his fears all the way down. he could let his shiny wheels rust, and succumb to the realities of life. its what he always preaches about, anyway. he says he wants death, but more so just a reason to go on. whether there was one for him was a different question.
he sighs wearily when you bring a bowl of soup to him, only realizing how hungry he is when he can smell it wafting towards his nostrils. “thank you, darling.” he hums, not caring for the way it slightly burns his fingertips when he takes it from you.
normally, he’d call you an angel for taking care of him, and ask you to commit double suicide holding his hand. you know he’s tired when all he can manage is a thank you before he’s eating the soup like its his first meal in days. honestly, it might have been.
“how are you feeling?” you ask, sitting next to him on the bed. he almost smiles when you put hour hand against his forehead, feeling his temperature. maybe he loves your cold hands against his burning hot skin, or maybe he loves you. probably both.
he resigns to remain strong. because he doesn’t want to be an open wound. its hard to be anywhere these days when all he wants is you, but he can’t admit that. what would happen if he trusted? if he let himself be saved? who would he lose?
“i’m okay.” he says, curving his dehydrated lips into a smile.
you sigh.
his lies are a flashback in a film reel. you’ve seen them before, but they still hurt.
“don’t give me that.” you say, clutching his bandaged hands. “let me care about you, ‘samu.”
for just a moment there, his smirk falls.
he’s used to being told that all his problems are mental. he’s used to getting wasted at bars, like all his potential. he’s used to downing everything he could have been, had he not been exposed to evil at such a young age.
evil expects evil from others. dazai himself was evil. so why weren’t you?
he doesn’t know. but he knows he’s anything but okay right now.
“i’m… tired. and my head is killing me.” he whispers, setting aside his near empty bowl of soup. he looks tired.
you don’t say anything, but he does let you gently push him onto the bed. his heart flutters when he feels you tuck the blankets around him, and end with a kiss on his forehead.
“you rest.” you hum. “i’m gonna go do your groceries. you need more than just instant food, ‘samu. but you are paying me back.”
he’s too tired to protest, and maybe he loves being taken care of. this is him trying.
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xothatnerdykid · 3 days ago
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read your mind
You’re a newly minted pro-hero with a quirk that lets you to read the mind of anyone you touch. So imagine your surprise when you accidentally read a certain stoic, brooding hero's mind and find out he doesn't hate you like you thought. but rather, something dangerously close to the opposite.
Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead x fem!reader. NSFW but not very explicit. 5,002 words.
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“Your form was sloppy,” he says in lieu of a greeting.
You used to cringe when he’d tell you things like that, become sheepish and apologetic. Now, after months of knowing him, you'd simply smile and quip, “Awww, you watching my saves on the news again?”
You hated bumping into him. He was the reason you tended to leave mission briefings early: the ever-stoic, perpetually unimpressed Pro Hero Eraserhead.
As a relatively new hero working in the same city, you were thrilled at the chance to learn from someone as experienced as him. But your excitement quickly dimmed the first time you met as you noticed his gruff demeanor and critical, scrutinizing gaze.
You knew he was hard on everyone, but there were times when it felt like his criticism was directed at you more than anyone else. And no matter how hard you tried or how much praise everyone else gave you, he always found something to correct.
So, for the sake of keeping your self-esteem intact, you’ve resorted to treating his criticism like a game, teasing him back whenever he dropped one of his classic deadpan remarks. It was either that or crumble under the weight of his seemingly endless disapproval.
But today, all you can muster is a grunt in response, head throbbing from fatigue and chronic sleep deprivation.
“That’s my line,” he says flatly. Because apparently, someone always has to be the cheeky one between the two of you.
“Can we just…” You rub your temple, wincing as the pain spikes. "Can we just not do this today?”
“Are you feeling alright?” His voice loses a bit of its usual sharpness as he steps closer, eyes narrowing in concern. “You’re not hurt, are you?”
“I’m fine,” you huff, waving him off. "Just tired. We can't all function on only ten shots of espresso a day."
"Seven actually. I'm not a maniac. And you don't sound fine."
You roll your eyes, feeling too drained to banter with him. "I said I'm fine. Can you spare me the lecture?"
You mean to walk past him when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, startling you. Suddenly, there’s that familiar buzz in your mind — your quirk activating with the skin-to-skin contact. The headache momentarily takes a backseat as his thoughts flood in.
Is she really okay? She looks like she’s about to collapse. Why does she always push herself so hard?
You look up at him, eyes wide and unblinking.
He yanks his hand away as if he’d been burned, the flood of his thoughts abruptly cut off. His dark eyes flicker with something—surprise? Guilt? He takes a step back.
“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice rougher than usual. “Didn’t mean to…”
You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. How are you supposed to respond to that? All this time, you thought he was just cold, that he only ever saw your flaws. But suddenly you can feel the warmth behind his harsh words, the worry he never voiced.
“I—” you start, but your voice falters. He’s still staring at you, his expression carefully guarded again.
“I’ll see you around. Feel better." His voice is clipped, betraying none of the thoughts you just heard. The words sound so casual, so dismissive, that for a moment you wonder if you imagined it all.
You want to say something, anything, to break the tension between you, but you're suddenly nervous. Your heart races, pounding with the weight of this new knowledge. Before you can compose yourself, another hero calls his name, and he mutters a quick response before leaving.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 
You promised yourself you were going to avoid him like the plague.
Later that day, when you were tossing and turning in bed, still overthinking your last encounter — you promised. You even came up with (what seemed to you) a solid game plan. You were going to focus on hero work so much that you won’t even have the time to think about him, much less see him.
But the mission had gone from bad to worse in a matter of minutes. What was supposed to be a simple recon had turned into a full-on chase through the streets when the criminal you'd been tracking for weeks now unexpectedly showed up at the deal you were sent to bust. Orders be damned, you vaulted over the rooftop ledge and ran after them.
You leaped across buildings, adrenaline spurring you on. Your mind was focused, heart pounding in rhythm with your footfalls. You’d chased this villain twice before, and both times, they’d slipped through your fingers. You weren’t about to let that happen again. The villain was fast, but so were you. With each bound, you closed the gap, watching as they darted into a narrow alleyway below. This was your chance. Your heart surged as you prepared to drop down and cut them off.
Suddenly, a figure descended from the shadows, blocking your target from your sight. Your stomach drops.
Of course it was him.
"Stay back. This is too dangerous for you to handle alone.” His voice was firm and authoritative. Even with the goggles on, you could feel his dark eyes trained on you with that same stern expression you’d come to dread.
"Dangerous? I've been on this case longer than you have! I’m not letting him get away again."
You stepped forward but so did he.
“I said stay back,” he warned you. “Don’t be reckless. He’s already evaded you twice, and now he’s cornered. Desperate villains do desperate things.”
“He’s getting away! You’re ruining my chance to finally catch him!”
“And you’ll get yourself killed,” Aizawa snapped. “I’m not going to let a rookie run into a trap.”
Anger flared in your chest. You knew he didn’t respect you, hadn’t from the start. Always criticizing, always watching with that disapproving scowl. You try to push past him, but it’s no use. He’s stronger than you, and maybe even more stubborn.
“Wait here and let me handle it,” Aizawa growled, his voice low and commanding. His scarf moved like a serpent around him, a silent warning that he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if you pushed any further.
You clenched your fists but did as you were told. Much to your frustration, the villain was apprehended quickly after that. You watched from the rooftop, fuming as Aizawa cornered them with ease, his scarf tangling around the villain's limbs like it was second nature. Within minutes, the situation was over, and backup arrived to escort the criminal away.
You stayed put, your heart still racing with the adrenaline of the chase and the frustration of being sidelined once again. The cool night breeze did little to calm your heated emotions. It wasn’t fair. You’d been so close, only for him to swoop in like you were some rookie who couldn’t handle their own mission.
Now, you watch as he finishes giving his statement to the police and then begins to make his way towards you.
You cross your arms tightly, readying yourself for whatever critique he’d throw your way this time. But when he stops in front of you, he doesn’t say anything right away. He simply takes off his goggles and looks at you, his silence is almost worse than his usual condescending remarks. When he finally speaks, his voice is gravelly, strained. More measured than you expected.
"Are you okay?"
You blink, caught off guard. "I…I'm fine," you answer, maybe a bit too defensively.
Aizawa's eyes narrow, and for a moment, you think he’s about to call you out for your tone. But instead, he just stares at you, his expression as unreadable as ever.
You shift on your feet, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and awkward, until he finally exhales and rubs the back of his neck.
"Good," he mutters, his voice softening just slightly, but there’s something behind his eyes—a flicker of something you can’t quite place. His hand lowers back to his side, and as it brushes yours for the briefest moment, something happens.
Skin contact.
Before you can stop it, his thoughts are bleeding into yours, loud and clear.
I should’ve handled that better. She probably thinks I hate her…
Dammit, I don’t want her to hate me.
Your breath catches in your throat. Wait, what?
A rush of emotions flood your mind: frustration, concern. Genuine fear.
She doesn’t need to prove herself to me. She’s already good enough. More than good enough.
Heat floods your face, your pulse quickening. He… cares? Before you can process it fully, the connection snaps. A sudden coldness washes over you as your quirk is forcibly erased.
Aizawa’s eyes lock onto yours, his irritation visible in the sharpness of his gaze and the tight line of his mouth.
"I…I didn't mean to," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper.
Something like uncertainty flickers in his expression. His jaw tightens but his brow furrows as though he’s trying to decide what to say.
“I...know you didn’t,” he finally says, his voice low and rough.
You flinch, guilt bubbling up in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you murmur again, dropping your gaze to the ground. You didn’t want to invade his mind, but now you couldn’t unhear what you’d discovered.
Just like before, he turns to leave.
“Wait—” you blurt out, reaching for him instinctively. You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you can’t just let him leave like this. Not again.
He pauses, half-turning to glance at you over his shoulder. Your heart is pounding in your ears. The words are there, but they feel jumbled in your throat, tangled up in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling through your mind. How do you even begin to respond to this?
“I—I didn’t know. About any of it.”
Your eyes search his face for any sign of what he’s thinking, but his expression remains impassive.
“I thought you couldn’t stand me,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.
Aizawa heaves a sigh. His hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose, and for the first time, you notice how tired he looks; exhausted, worn down in a way that makes him seem more human, less the untouchable figure you’ve always seen him as.
“I’m not trying to be hard on you,” he says after a long pause, his voice softer now, like the anger is draining away. “But you don’t always think things through, and that’s dangerous. You’re talented. You don’t need to prove anything to me or anyone else.”
His words surprise you, and you look up, meeting his gaze again. There’s no scowl, no biting critique, just honesty. You swallow hard, feeling an odd mix of warmth and discomfort settle in your chest.
Before you can think better of it, your hand moves instinctively, brushing against his arm. You freeze, realizing what you’ve done, but this time, he doesn’t pull away. And though he has every opportunity to, he doesn’t erase your quirk either.
I’m too close to her. The thought is faint, hesitant. She’s already in my head… and it’s getting harder to push her away.
Your breath catches in your throat. He’s not just frustrated with you—he’s frustrated with himself.
You pull your hand back, not wanting to intrude further.
You don’t know what you expect to see on his face; surprise maybe, or even anger. But his gaze is soft as it meets yours, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you see something warmer in his eyes—something that sends a flutter through your chest.
Aizawa takes a half-step closer and your pulse quickens at the proximity. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost a secret, he murmurs, “Don’t make me worry like that again.”
“I won’t,” you manage to whisper, your heart pounding in your ears.
He takes a step back, as if remembering himself, and his usual stern demeanor slips back into place.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Go home. Get some rest.”
You nod, still too flustered to speak. The warmth of his touch lingers long after he's gone.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 
It’s well past midnight, the city quiet except for the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional sound of wind rustling through the streets. Your patrol route brings you to the edge of a quiet park, where you catch a familiar figure standing in the shadows, keeping watch.
“You really like brooding in the dark, don’t you?" You smile at him from over your shoulder, though your usual sarcasm is gone.
“It's my favorite pastime,” he deadpans, but you don't miss the way his dark eyes hold yours a beat too long.
“Right,” you snicker. “The city’s most stoic hero. I bet you even scowl in your sleep.”
Aizawa’s lips twitch, the tiniest of smirks threatening to break through. “You can’t prove that.”
"Oh?” You smile sweetly, batting your eyelashes for good measure. “Something tells me I can.”
His gaze sharpens slightly, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s about to call you out on your teasing. But instead, he steps closer, his tall frame looming over you.
“You’re bold tonight,” he says, his tone somewhere between amused and intrigued. “Careful, I might start thinking you’re actually enjoying my company.”
You bite your lip to keep from smiling any wider. “And what if I am?”
He steps just a fraction closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off him in the cool night air. His voice is low and smooth when he says, “Then I’d have to wonder what it is you think you’re getting yourself into.”
The air between you thickens, the playful banter now laced with something a little more dangerous, a little more exciting.
“You know, I could buy you a coffee sometime,” you offer, hoping to diffuse some of the tension, keep the conversation light. “To say thanks for helping me out with that last mission.”
He pretends to mull it over but, before you can react, he reaches out and grabs the coffee cup you’re holding and takes a long sip, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin tingle.
When he lowers the cup, he meets your gaze with a half-lidded look that sends your pulse racing.
“Consider it done.”
Your face feels impossibly warm now, and you’re sure your blush is painfully obvious, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you quip, “An indirect kiss? Maybe you’re the one who needs to be careful, or else other people will start getting the wrong idea.”
With a low laugh, he hands the cup back to you, and the subtle brush of his fingers against yours sets off another wave of his thoughts.
I wonder if she realizes how much I want her.
Your breath catches.
For a split second, you think you might’ve misheard it, but the heat in Aizawa’s gaze as he watches your reaction tells you otherwise. The cup is back in your hand, but your fingers are numb. Your focus is entirely on him, his thoughts still rattling around in your mind.
His lips twitch again. “You’re awfully quiet all of a sudden,” he teases, his voice low, almost a purr. “What’s going on up there? Something I should know about?”
You swallow hard, trying to gather your composure. He’s looking at you like he’s daring you to admit what you heard. You take a deep breath and decide to play along.
“Oh, nothing. Just wondering if you always flirt this shamelessly,” you manage to say in a steady voice.
Still, he smirks at your slight breathlessness and takes a step closer. “Maybe I just wanted to see how you’d react.”
Your heart is racing now, fingers trembling around the cup in your hand. His gaze is dark and intense. Unwavering. He's looking at you like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you and he’s enjoying it.
Your quirk had always been a double-edged sword; sometimes it revealed things you wished you hadn’t known, and other times it brought clarity to situations that seemed hopelessly opaque. This time, it left you with a dilemma.
“Go ahead,” he murmurs, as if sensing your thoughts. He’s close enough now that you can feel the warmth of him, his presence overwhelming but not uncomfortable. “Since you’re already in my head…why stop now?”
Your breath hitches. His invitation is dangerous, yet impossible to resist. There are a dozen reasons why you shouldn’t — you work together, it’s an invasion of privacy, you hated his guts just a few weeks ago — but the temptation is too strong, his presence too intoxicating.
Hesitantly, your fingers brush against his once more, and suddenly, his thoughts flood in again, more intense, more vivid this time.
She’s braver than I thought. I like that.
I shouldn’t be doing this. But damn, I can’t stop thinking about her. The way she looks at me…
“Good girl,” he cooes, his voice a low rumble that sends a flutter of excitement through you.
You feel lightheaded, dizzy with the weight of his thoughts, the tension between you at a boiling point. You swallow hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the way Aizawa’s eyes are fixed on you — dark, intense, hungry — it’s making it hard to think straight. He wants you to know. He wants you to feel what he’s feeling.
And you do.
You feel everything.
His desire is a palpable thing, hanging in the air between you, electric and heady. You can see it in the way his gaze lingers on your lips, the way his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean in.
“Hardly seems fair. I don't get to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” His voice dips lower, enough to send another wave of heat crashing over you. “Are you going to keep me guessing?”
Your voice wavers slightly, but you manage to respond, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what’s in my head.”
He chuckles, a dark, low sound that makes your stomach flip. “You might be surprised.”
You can barely breathe as he brushes the back of his hand on your jaw, his thumb pressing lightly on the corner of your mouth. You feel his thoughts ripple through you again, even stronger this time.
I want her. God, I want her so badly…
Your knees feel weak, and it takes everything in you not to lose yourself completely in the moment, in him. The tension between you feels unbearable now, as if one wrong move could send you both over the edge.
And you’re not sure how much longer either of you can hold back. Aizawa smirks, just a hint of satisfaction flickering in his expression.
I could kiss her right now. It would be so easy.
The thought lingers between you, thick and heavy, and you can’t tell if it’s yours or his anymore. All you know is that the idea—his lips on yours—is making your entire body hum with anticipation.
Aizawa watches you carefully, as if waiting for your reaction, his eyes half-lidded, intense. He knows you heard him, and he’s not backing down.
You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. “Go ahead then,” your own voice sounds small and distant to your ears, but it’s enough to tip the balance.
His lips are on yours in a second.
The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters, but it quickly deepens as the tension that had been building between you finally breaks. His other hand slides around your waist, pulling you closer, and you feel his thoughts rushing through you again. God, she tastes even better than I imagined.
Your knees nearly buckle, and you can barely focus on anything except the way his lips feel against yours—firm, warm, demanding yet tender. He’s kissing you like he’s wanted to for a long time, like he’s been holding back for far too long.
When you finally pull back for air, your heart is pounding, your breath shaky. Aizawa’s forehead rests gently against yours, his eyes half-closed as he catches his own breath. His thumb brushes lightly over your cheek, a small, affectionate gesture that sends a flutter of excitement through you.
“Still think I hate you?” he murmurs, his voice low and full of heat as he slides his hands into the curve of your waist.
“I think I might need a little more convincing.” You laugh softly, pulling him closer by his scarf.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 
The days that follow your little late night tryst at the park are deliciously unbearable.
It’s as if you don’t know how to be around him anymore. There's tension during training sessions. The gym hums with its usual energy, but you can’t focus. Not with him in the room. You’re sparring with someone, half-heartedly dodging and throwing punches, but your mind is elsewhere, replaying the feel of Aizawa’s lips on yours, the heat of his body pressed against you.
Across the room, he’s speaking to a group of trainees, the same unreadable, stoic expression in place. But there's a flicker of something else in his eyes when they briefly meet yours, a look only you recognize.
Your opponent lands a hit on your shoulder and you nearly stumble. You grit your teeth and bring yourself back to the present moment. When the sparring session ends, you grab a bottle of water and try to catch your breath.
He walks over to where you’re sitting off to the side, seemingly doing the same. His voice is low enough so only you can hear. "You're distracted."
You flush, struggling to keep your expression impassive. “And what if I am?”
“Focus, or I’ll have to give you some private training later.”
His words are a promise, dripping with intent, and your heart stutters. You can’t find a response quick enough before he’s already pulling away, leaving you flushed and even more distracted than before.
It’s not much better during night patrol, when the city streets are dimly lit and mostly empty. Although the two of you are supposed to be patrolling different sectors, you know when you turn a corner into a dark alley that he's following silently, closely behind.
You walk deeper into the alley, pretending to scan the area, but the quiet crunch of his footsteps has your heart racing. Just as you’re about to turn back, a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you into the shadows, away from prying eyes.
You open your mouth to say something, but he’s already on you, crashing his lips against yours.
“You’re making—it hard—for me—to concentrate,” he murmurs between kisses, each word punctuated by the soft graze of his mouth against yours. His hands press against your hips, pinning you gently yet firmly to the wall, and a wave of heat spreads through you.
Suddenly, an image flashes in your mind: him trailing his mouth downwards until he’s on his knees, hooking your leg over his shoulder and eating you out. A thought that isn’t your own.
“You’re one to talk,” you shoot back, though there’s no real bite to it. If anything, your voice is barely steady. “You’re supposed to be patrolling your own area.”
He runs his fingers along your jaw. "And let you wander into dark alleys alone?" He leans in, lips brush against your ear, nibbling. "Not a chance."
Without a word, he crooks a finger under your chin and tilts your head up, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, his teeth and lips lingering just enough to make you gasp.
I want to taste you. All of you, he thinks. I want you to make a mess on my face, on my fingers, and then lick it clean.
You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. He presses you harder against the wall, and it’s dizzying, intoxicating—
Until the sharp crackle of comms cuts through the haze.
“Report. Any activity?”
You both freeze, breaths mingling, still pressed close. His eyes flick to yours, and there’s a hint of amusement dancing in them.
“Nothing to report,” he says, voice calm and collected as if he hadn’t just been kissing you senseless a moment ago.
You look up at him, dazed and wanting, heart pounding. He tilts his head at you and you realize they’re expecting a response from you, too.
“N-no activity here either,” you manage despite the tightness of your throat.
The comms fall silent once more. Aizawa is looking at you through half-lidded eyes and a self-satisfied smirk. You hate him as much as you really don't.
“We should get back to our routes before someone decides to check on us," he murmurs.
“Oh, so now you’re concerned about protocol?” You arch an eyebrow at him, though you’re sure your flushed cheeks betray any semblance of teasing bravado.
"For now." He leans down to brush the shell of your ear with his lips. "But if you keep looking at me like that, I might just break a few more rules.”
A few days later, you find yourselves seated across from each other during a mission debriefing. The room is full of other pro heroes, but it might as well be empty for all the attention you’re paying to anyone else.
Your thoughts scramble every time Aizawa's knee brushes against yours beneath the table. He, on ther hand, is the picture of composure, listening to the debrief with his usual detached focus.
This meeting’s dragging. I can think of better ways to pass the time with you.
You try to focus on the mission details, but half way through, he moves his hand atop your thigh and you shiver.
How long do you think it’d take if we just slipped out, right now?
You steal a glance at him, and there’s the barest flicker of amusement in his eyes when they meet yours.
You force yourself to look down at your notes, but your mind is elsewhere, his presence impossibly distracting. Fuck it, you think before you slide your foot up his calf.
He sputters a cough, a rare crack in his usually unshakable composure, and you feel a surge of satisfaction. Under the table, his hand tightens on your thigh, his grip firm, almost possessive, and the thrill of it has you biting the inside of your cheek.
Keep doing that and I won’t be responsible for what happens after this.
As the meeting draws to a close, everyone rises to leave, and Shota gives you a barely perceptible nod toward the hallway. You follow at a careful distance until you reach his office, entering a good few minutes after he does so as not to arouse suspicion.
He backs you gently against the door as he locks it behind you, his gaze pinning you in place. His eyes are dark and stormy, with that half-focused look you’ve come to love so much. When he speaks, his voice is soft, a murmur meant only for you. “You’re going to get us caught, you know that?”
You smile up at him sweetly then tip-toe to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "You’re the one who can’t seem to keep things professional,” you coo, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, teasing.
A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Is that so? Funny, I don’t remember you objecting."
“Of course not,” you confess breathlessly, head thrown back in pleasure as you tug at his hair. You can’t make out the sound of your own voice over the blood thumping in your ears. “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined us doing inappropriate things in your office?”
Your words seem to snap the last of his restraint.
A low growl escapes him, and before you know it, he’s gripping your hips and lifting you just enough to press the hardness of his length against you. You gasp. His mouth finds yours with a raw, pent-up hunger that has you clinging to his shoulders, heart racing wildly.
“And here I was, thinking I was the only one losing sleep over this,” he murmurs between kisses, tugging your bottom lip gently between his teeth.
He pulls you flush against him as his tongue explores your mouth, and you trail your hands down his chest and the ridges of his abdomen just as eagerly. You grind your hips down on his erection and he lets out a deep, guttural groan, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Fuck, baby,” he pants, his warm, rough hands slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. “You’re lucky we’re alone.” His tone is half-warning, half-promise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your hands.
"I know somewhere we wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted," you tell him breathlessly. “My place. Tonight. If you’re up for it.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "I'll clear my schedule.”
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yallthemwitches · 3 days ago
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The Storm
Some fluff for @jilytoberfest Day 29: Cold Winter Nights.
AO3 Link Here
“Alright Potter, if you are going to tease me then I will just go home—”
She turns on her heel to find that he’s now close—too close for them to be in a sitting room where Mr. or Mrs. Potter could walk in the door at any minute. 
“You wanted to stay the night.”
“Mum, it's all right. I spoke with Mrs. Potter and she said that I can stay over without a problem. God knows they won’t even realize I’m here with a house this big—”
She feels weird talking on a phone in an otherwise aggressively ‘wizard’ sitting room, but both James and Mrs. Potter had been delighted to hook up their ancient telephone so she could ring home. 
“I’ll be back in the morning when the storm lets up.” She hangs up the phone and turns to find that she isn’t alone. James stands in the corner, arms folded behind his back, face cut in half by a wide grin. 
“Do I want to know?” She lifts an eyebrow and his grin gets impossibly wider. 
“Storm will make it hard to get home, eh?”
She ignores him, pretending to become fascinated with the book selection.
“Because it’s not like floo powder still works in a storm.”
She hopes that if she remains silent he will let up—a rookie mistake.
“And it’s not like storms effect apparition—”
“Alright Potter, if you are going to tease me then I will just go home—”
She turns on her heel to find that he’s now close—too close for them to be in a sitting room where Mr. or Mrs. Potter could walk in the door at any minute. 
“You wanted to stay the night.”
Her throat goes dry, cheeks burning. She could deny it, push him away and tell him to get his thick brain out of the gutter, but her brain is going fuzzy with his body heat leaning into her. 
“I just figured that since Sirius is at his uncle’s, I could just bunk in his room. Mum’s very nervous when I travel—”
He hums in dissatisfaction, close enough now that the sound vibrates across her skin. 
“Sirius’ room—you definitely don’t want to go in there. Merlin knows what he’s been up to.”
“Then I’ll ask your mum to make up one of the other rooms—seems like you have an endless supply.”
He nods, taking a step back. The distance creates a visceral reaction and she fights the desire to take him by the shirt and press their bodies together. 
“Definitely the reputable thing to do—ok c’mon then.”
She follows on his heels as he lopes his way through what feels like labyrinthine corridors, passing portraits of men with familiar untidy hair alongside elaborate paintings of mythical creatures. They get to the east side of the house and James stops at a heavy set door that is left ajar. A glint of red and gold peeks out from the crack. 
“Is this where I’m staying?” James cheeks flush. All of his cockiness drained into a bashful expression.
“No—this one’s mine. But there’s a room right next to it that you can use.”
She can’t help herself. She presses on the door and it groans open. It's like his dorm room but with grander treatment—similar quidditch and music posters line the walls but instead of a modest four poster bed, a much too large mahogany one takes up most of the room. 
“Quaint.” She can feel him watching her and she turns back to him. He’s straight as a board, face a deep crimson as his eyes search her face. 
“It’s—my room.” He says weakly, like this wasn’t already known. “We can…go in if you want.”
Her heartbeat quickens. There is little left to the imagination when the boy you’ve been snogging for months invites you into his very big, very welcoming bedroom. Her mind wanders a floor below where she knows his mum and dad are both sitting in the study, simultaneously too close and far away.
“Maybe you can show me the other room first? That way I know where it is–”
“Right.” He turns quickly, movements more erratic than they were down in the sitting room. 
He walks a couple of steps to the nearest door and turns the knob. Inside is a mirrored bedroom, but with significantly less character. For Potter standards it’s a simple guest room but it surpasses any room the Evans’ house could dream to have. 
She sticks her head through the doorway to scan the room. It’s good, a comfortable and safe option—but that’s not what she wants.
“I like yours better.” She states plainly, but her whole body flushes crimson. His head whips to her, eyes blown wide. 
“Yeah?” He steps close, confidence mounting with each second. She can feel a warm hand hover at the small of her back and his face looms so close she can see the flecks of gold in his irises.
“Just because it’s supposed to be a really cold night.” Her brain is swimming, vision now being taken over by him and his hovering lips. 
“Would hate to have you freeze to death on my watch,” he murmurs, lips grazing hers, eyes closing. His other hand curls into her hair and she leans into his touch.
“---and I’m not very keen on storms.” 
“Me either—terrified of them.” His lips skim past her mouth and drag a path up to her ear, a smile evident.
“You don’t think your parents-–” but he’s already grabbing her hand, ushering her back towards his room. He walks his way backwards so as to not remove their distance from each other, lips finally making contact. 
“Don’t worry Evans,” he says, a smirk forming against her, “Just like you said: with a house this big, they won’t even realize we’re here.”
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lostintransist · 2 days ago
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Fallen Angel | Frozen Toes
A distant light shown in your flat. Your car dash had said 3:06 when you pulled into an open space for parking. Praying Simon had gotten home from a job and there would be no burglar when you opened the door you first tested to see if it was locked. It was. Tank fucking god.
You had been spending too much time with Johnny. Even your mental swearing had started to sound like him. Gary would laugh when you told him. Using your key, you undid the lock and entered the warm flat. The heat touching your skin burned. The heater in your car had died, what a wonderful winter surprise.
The shop had started doing better since the guys started to drag their men there to sober up after a few drinks. They had told friends and soon enough After Dark had started making a profit. There wasn’t enough for you to start paying yourself any kind of wage beyond rent but that would be okay. Your dream still lived on.
Simon stood at the kitchen counter, making himself a meal from the sounds of it. Kicking off your shoes at the door you divested yourself of outer layers as you moved deeper into the house.
“Simon? Can I steal some of your warmth?”
“Can’t steal what I give off without trying,” came his dry reply.
Stepping into the kitchen you saw Simon working on a sandwich, or three? It didn’t matter. Wrapping your arms around him and shoving your nose between his shoulder blades Simon jumped.
“Christ alive. I think you’ve burned me with your touch,” he hissed.
“The heater went out in my car,” you mumbled into his spine. “Would you cuddle with me until I can feel my fingers again?”
He stood, stiff, debating.  You could feel it when he decided to give in.
“Your toes are ice cubes aren’t they,” he questioned in defeat.
“Yep.”
“Get in your night clothes while I finish making my sandwiches and covering them and I will come warm you up.”
Changing as fast as you could with tingly fingers and blocks of ice for feet you snuggled into your cold bed, waiting for the space heater that would come an save you from hypothermia. Simon flicked off your light as he entered, climbing into your bed with the familiarity of someone who visited often. He didn’t though. This was his first time in your bed.
He wrapped you in his arms, legs twining with yours even as he swore each time your toes touched his leg. Swore he could feel your toe prints, even through his sweats. You drifted off to his quiet breaths and a warmth permeating your dreams. 
Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist
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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 2 hours ago
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The Coldest Blue
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!reader Warnings: Angst. Word count: ~2.1k
Summary: When her husband returns unexpectedly from the ongoing war, she is elated. However, the sinister news she receives in the days that follow threatens to shatter her happiness.
Author's note: Happy Halloween! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.
She startled as a cold hand was placed gently upon her arm, the sensation tugged her violently from the warm and blissful comfort of slumber that she had been about to succumb to. As she turned over in the bed, her heart felt as though it ceased beating in her chest, and her eyes widened in shock as she took in the unexpected sight of her husband.
“Aemond!” She gasped, all traces of sleep suddenly cleared from her mind.
She reached out to touch him, and immediately he clasped her hands in his. The contact sent a shiver down her spine - he had always had that effect upon her, the simplest brush of his fingers against hers often caused butterflies in her stomach. It had been that way ever since their mother had informed them they were to be married. However, the juxtaposition of the chill of his skin against the buttery-soft warmth of the crisp, white bedding was jarring.
He must have come straight to her after having dismounted Vhagar, and his skin was still chilled from the night air of the flight – all the way from Harrenhal – a place that had torn her twin, her husband, away from her for months. It was no surprise that he felt shockingly unfamiliar, the last time they had touched felt like a distant memory.
She had made a home in loneliness, the ache of his absence, alongside continuous fear and uncertainty had become so familiar that it felt like slipping on an old pair of slippers. No longer would she pine for the weekly raven that delivered news of his well being, and declarations of his love and loyalty to her, instead she must now grow accustomed to his presence by her side, though it was an adjustment she was all too happy to make.
“I did not know you would be returning,” she said softly, a twinge of guilt in her tone – had she known then she would not have been abed, she would have prepared for his return, provided a warmer welcome. A man that had spent months away at war did not deserve to return to the sight of his wife’s sleeping back. “You did not send word.”
She propped herself up on her elbow, releasing his hands as she leaned against the pillows gazing down at him. Even in the dim candlelight that burned low upon the bedside table – she had taken to sleeping with a lit candle when Aemond had departed, unable to bear sleeping alone in the dark – his eye was still as vibrant as ever. At least that still feels familiar. Eyes of the coldest blue, that stared into hers with such intensity she was often torn between wanting to lose herself in it, or turn her face away for fear of that very thing happening.
“I just wanted to see you,” he replied quietly, as though it was the simplest thing in the world.
Her mind reeled with a thousand questions and he laid there patiently, watching her impassively, as she sorted through her thoughts, deciding upon which she would ask first.
Does mother know you’re back? Aegon? How are you feeling?
“Is it over then? Have you come back to me?” are the questions she finally settled upon.
“Mmm…it is over,” he told her, “Daemon is dead.”
Her breath caught in her throat as happy tears filled her eyes, not quite able to believe what she had heard. “I have missed you so,” she whispered in a trembling voice, “you cannot imagine how much it gladdens my heart to have you back.”
“You should sleep, my love,” he murmured.
“What?!” she demanded, outraged by the notion. Her lips parted and her brow furrowed as she stared at him incredulously. She had not seen him for months, how could he simply appear in their bed without warning and then just expect her to fall asleep?
“I have not known peace in such a long time,” he explained softly, “I just want to watch you as you sleep. I did not mean to wake you, I just could not resist touching you.”
“We need to tell mother that you are back,” she argued, reaching for him again. Once more, he took her hand in his, his slender fingers chilly against the soft skin of the back of her hand. “Aegon must know you have returned.”
“Later,” he insisted, “sleep.”
Despite the commanding nature of his request, his vibrant, blue eye held within it a silent plea that she could not ignore. She sighed, turned onto her side, and closed her eyes. There was a part of her that had daydreamed that Aemond would ravish her upon his return, eager for the closeness and intimacy that only she could provide, after such a long separation. She was more than a little disappointed that he had made no such attempt, though she supposed he was tured after his journey home. 
She had expected the excitement of the past few moments to prevent her from falling asleep. To her surprise, the pull of sleep dragged her under swiftly, a comforting, inky blackness enveloping her. Eyes of the coldest blue filled her dreams that night.
When she awoke the next morning, her tired mind was convinced she had dreamed Aemond’s return, especially as when she turned to his side of the bed, it was empty, utterly unrumpled as though it had not been slept in. Her heart sank, disappointment settling upon her chest like a stone that threatened to crush her. The mere act of throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed felt like an effort, her bones felt heavy with sadness.
She padded barefoot, slowly, to the adjoining nursery, stopping in her tracks when she saw the back of Aemond, stood in his riding leathers, looking over the cradle of their son, Rhaegar. The warm wave of relief that washed over her almost made her knees buckle, such was the elation that she had not imagined the return of her beloved twin and husband. Her cheeks almost ached under the strain of her smile, she had not expressed such joy in a long time.
Rhaegar had been a tiny babe when Aemond had pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head in farewell all those months ago. Now, he was approaching his second name day, and growing to resemble his father more with each passing day, his features possessed a sharpness that was uncanny to Aemond’s.
The infant babbled happily as he sat in his cradle, chubby fists clenched around a wooden dragon toy.
“Are you pleased to see your father?” She cooed as she came to stand beside Aemond.
Rhaegar squealed upon seeing her, waving his toy vigorously.
“You may hold him if you wish,” she urged her husband gently.
Aemond shook his head. “He seems happy enough, I do not wish to disturb him. My boy…he has grown.”
She hummed in agreement, nodding. “He looks more like you with each passing day.”
Aemond reached out a hand towards the child, stopping short of touching him. His expression became pensive, a faraway look in his eye, before he pulled his arm back, letting it drop back to his side.
His behaviour in the short time he had been back was puzzling to her, yet she knew that war changed people. Hopefully, as time passed, he would return more to himself, and be the man she married once more.
He turned and walked from the room as the nursemaid entered and lifted the child from his cradle in order to wash and dress him for the day.
As she returned to her own chamber, she noticed that bread, fruit and cheese had been laid out upon the table, by her chambermaids, for her to break her fast. Aemond had taken the armchair beside the fireplace, his favourite place to settle before he had left to defend Aegon’s claim to the throne.
“Will you join me for breakfast?” She asked hopefully.
“No,” he responded, “I have little appetite.”
She pursed her lips. She wanted to press the issue, he needed to eat, to maintain his strength, yet she did not wish to nag and cause him any additional torment after he had already endured so much.
“We will have to take Rhaegar to see Vhagar now you are back,” she said, attempting to lighten the mood, as she seated herself at the table and placed grapes upon her plate. “He is big enough now that he can actually comprehend what she is.”
“Vhagar…did not survive the battle,” Aemond uttered, staring off into the unlit fireplace, his tone sombre.
No wonder he seemed so different. Losing his dragon would have been a devastating blow to Aemomd, after all he had endured to claim her. She was his most prized possession.
“I am sorry, my love,” she murmured, rising from her seat and approaching him. “How…how did it happen?”
“Caraxes and her were surprisingly well matched. They both now rest at the bottom of the God’s Eye…alongside Daemon, and…”
He stopped, shaking his head and lifting his gaze to meet hers. The sadness within made her want to cry. As she stepped towards him, he held his hand out, the coolness of his skin enveloping the warmth of hers.
“And what?” she pressed quietly.
“It does not matter. At least I am reunited with you, I got to see you.”
She was about to respond when a knock at the door interrupted her. She sighed, calling out for them to enter.
A page boy opened the door, just enough for him to slip through the crack, before bowing to her. “Princess, the King has requested that you go at once to the Small Council chamber.”
She frowned, scoffing as she replied, “can it not wait until I am dressed?”
“Apologies, princess,” the page boy said, not meeting her eye, “the king insists that it is urgent.”
“Very well,” she huffed, tying her robe tighter around her nightgown, “I shall be there momentarily.”
The page boy bowed, leaving the way he had come.
“I suppose we could not avoid it forever,” Aemond said wearily, rising from his seat.
He trailed after her as they walked to the Small Council chamber, his steps quiet behind hers.
“Do not forget that I love you, I always have,” he told her softly as they approached the heavy doors.
“And I love you,” she said in turn, her heart fluttering as the coolness of his fingers briefly entwined with hers.
She did not knock, simply pushed open the door and stepped in. Only Aegon and their mother stood at the long, wooden table.
Her mother’s big, brown eyes were tearful, as Aegon leaned over a parchment that was rolled out before him, his features pinched in anguish. His bottom lip trembled in a manner that only occurred when he was angered to the point of near hysteria.
She had expected them both to be overjoyed to see Aemond, considering he stood at her side, but both seemed too engrossed in the contents of the letter they were reading.
“Oh, my dearest love,” her mother whispered tearfully, clutching a handkerchief as she stepped towards her and embraced her tightly.
“What? What is it?” She asked, and pulled back, brow furrowed in concern as she looked at her mother and then Aegon.
Alicent kept her arms around her, stroking her hair gently, as Aegon looked up from the parchment. His voice was quiet, almost croaky, as he spoke. “News from Harrenhal.”
What more could there possibly be?!
“So?” she asked in exasperation, “what is it?”
“There was a battle between Aemond and Daemon above the God’s Eye…”
I know this, I know this, I know this!
She wanted to scream in frustration, he was not telling her anything she did not know already. She pulled her shoulders up towards her ears momentarily, an impatient gesture for him to continue.
“Daemon is dead,” Aegon said, swallowing thickly, “and so is Aemond.”
She almost wanted to laugh. No, he was not! What a ridiculous thing to say.
“No, he is–” she reached out to Aemond, grasping the front of his riding leathers, her breath hitching as her hand passed straight through him.
Her blood ran cold as her horrified eyes lifted to meet his.
“I just wanted to see you,” he murmured, eyes of the coldest blue looking straight into hers as he faded away to nothing.
“...he’s gone,” she whispered tearfully. The painful clenching of her heart dulled every other sensation, and she did not even feel it when her mother wrapped her arms tighter around her.
Eyes of the coldest blue, let me see into you.
He had returned to her one final time, and would never again.
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chillypowder · 3 days ago
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Hey could you please do a part 2 of rescued hearts from his perspective. I would like more heartbreak
Rescued Hearts: A Second Chance at Love Pt.2
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Genre: Angst,No comfort
Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader (gender neutral)
Warning ⚠️: Major character death, Death, Neglect
Summary: After 6 years of Marriage most would say they know their spouse better their own parents but he could never say utter those words after seeing how badly he failed you.
Note: I am so sorry that I didn't see your request in time but I hope is satisfactory for you. But the funny thing I was planning to make a fanfic of Bakugou's perspective and when I saw your requesti was over the moon.
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The keys slipped from my fingers, and they clattered against the marble floor, echoing loudly in the stillness. I took a step inside, shoulders sagging under the weight of another brutal day. The quiet that greeted me was thick, pressing down on my chest as I looked around our darkened penthouse. The city lights flickered through the windows, casting shadows across the empty room. There was no warmth in the place, nothing to greet me or soften the silence. It was just… empty. Too empty.
A quick glance at my watch told me it was well past midnight. Another missed dinner. Another broken promise. I scanned the room, half-expecting them to be waiting there with that tired, knowing smile—the one they always wore when I staggered home hours too late. My stomach twisted, a familiar pang of guilt flickering to life. I didn’t deserve the forgiveness they’d give me, not again.
I walked further in, catching sight of the cold remnants of what had clearly been an evening planned out just for us. The dishes on the table, barely touched, and candles burned down to puddles of wax. They’d set everything up, hoping I’d actually show up on time. Hoping, even though I kept disappointing them, again and again. It stung—no, it burned. They’d stayed up waiting for me, probably for hours, just to watch the night slip away with only silence for company. I’d never once come home to anger or resentment, even though I deserved every bit of it. They always forgave, always understood, and I took it for granted every damn time.
I clenched my jaw, pushing the guilt aside. Tomorrow. I’d make it right tomorrow. I’d tell them how much they mattered, that I’d fix this. Make it all up to them. All of it.
That’s when I saw them—lying on the couch, still as a statue, face half-hidden in the shadows. At first, I almost sighed in relief. They must’ve fallen asleep waiting for me, like they sometimes did. I felt an ache in my chest, and the words I’d never said to them hovered on the tip of my tongue, things I’d always planned to say in some perfect moment that never seemed to come.
I moved closer, lowering myself down beside them. “Hey,” I murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from their face. “You asleep?”
They didn’t stir. I frowned, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling. I tried again, voice louder this time. “Come on, babe, wake up. You’re gonna get a crick in your neck if you stay like this.” Still nothing. My heartbeat picked up, a sense of dread curling in my stomach. I reached for their shoulder, giving them a gentle shake.
“Hey.” I shook harder, my voice catching. “Wake up.”
No response.
My hand slipped to their wrist, pressing against the cold skin. I searched for a pulse, feeling my own pounding as a sickening sense of fear clawed at my insides. There was something there—faint, so faint I could barely feel it. My hands began to tremble.
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t happening.
“Come on,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “Wake up. Please. I’m here now, alright? I’m here.”
They didn’t move. They didn’t even flinch. A desperate, helpless panic crashed over me, and my mind screamed at me to do something, anything, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t like the battles in the field, where everything was black and white, life or death. This was them, lying cold and motionless in front of me, and I was completely, utterly powerless.
I grabbed my phone with shaky hands, fingers fumbling over the screen as I punched in the emergency number, struggling to keep my voice steady when the operator picked up.
“Yes, I need an ambulance. Now,” I said, my voice cracking. “My—my spouse… they’re unconscious, and they’re not responding.” The words tumbled out in a rush, half-choked with panic, and it took everything in me not to break down right there.
They tried to ask questions, but I didn’t have the patience. “Just get someone here,” I snapped, my gaze glued to their still, pale face. I dropped the phone and dropped to my knees beside them, grabbing their hand. Their fingers felt cold against mine. Too cold. I pressed my forehead to their hand, clinging to them like I could somehow will them to wake up if I just held on tight enough.
“Please,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Please, just open your eyes. I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
My chest felt like it was splitting open, each second that passed without them stirring chipping away at my resolve. Every missed dinner, every broken promise, every selfish decision I’d made—every moment flashed through my mind, leaving me raw and hollow.
Where the hell had I been?
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queenshelby · 2 days ago
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The Accident (Part Five)
Pairing: Reader & Cillian Murphy
Warning: Domestic Abuse, Religious Themes, Trafficking
Thank you @blondie-22 for this amazing idea!
It was almost 10 o'clock at night when Cillian lay in bed with Naomi, sharing a moment of intimacy. Kissing her softly, he lost himself in the warmth of her body, which was something that had drawn him to her years after his wife passed away.
It was the intimacy and the comfortable familiarity that he craved, even as a small part of him still lingered in the shadows of his past.
"You are really good at that," she whispered, her green eyes glinting with playful mischief.
"Good at what?" Cillian chuckled as he brushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, momentarily appreciating the softness of her skin. Naomi smirked, her lips curving mischievously.
"Kissing," she smirked, her voice teasing. "I love kissing you," she told him gently as she traced a finger down his freckled arm as, suddenly, the shrill sound of his phone pierced the intimate moment, shoving reality between them like a cold, unforgiving wall.
Cillian glanced at the screen; the name wasn’t familiar but, unlike a scam call, it kept on ringing, not relenting its persistent tone.
“Don’t pick it up,” Naomi urged, annoyance creeping into her voice.
She turned her back to him, pulling the sheets closer, but Cillian couldn’t shake the sense of urgency that gripped his chest.
It could be important, he thought, and, without thinking, he reached for the phone, swiping the screen as he brought it to his ear.
“Hello?” His voice was steady, but the tremor beneath it betrayed a flicker of concern.
“Cillian?” your voice spilled over the line, trembling and urgent.
“Y/N? Is that you?” he asked, fairly certain but not one hundred percent sure.
“Yes," you replied, your breath hitching. “I’m in trouble... I left home, with my daughters, and I’m scared," you said, your voice shaking. "You said to call if I need help.”
Cillian’s heart plummeted. He sensed the weight of your fear, the palpable panic in your voice.
“Where are you?” he asked, his mind racing while Naomi shot him a glare that could burn a hole through steel, frustration contorting her features.
“I’m at a motel,” you replied quickly, swallowing hard. “It’s called the Willow Inn. I thought I could find some safety, but I... I don’t. I can't check in and I am, oh my god, I am sorry," you stammered, not making much sense as panic clawed at you.
“Y/N, slow down,” Cillian said, trying to ground you with his voice. “What’s going on? Can you give me the address?” he asked.
You hesitated, the words struggling to escape. "I don't know," you murmured, the tremor in your voice cutting through him like glass.
"Just ask the front desk for it," Cillian suggested, urgency lacing his tone.
You let out a shaky breath, and he could almost picture you, eyes wide, scanning the dimly lit room for any semblance of safety as if the walls might close in on you at any moment.
He heard you talking to the receptionist and, once she confirmed the address of the motel, you repeated it to him.
“It's 45 Maple Drive,” you finally said, your voice steadier but laced with an undercurrent of fear.
"Okay good. It's a 30-minute drive from here," Cillian informed you. "Are you safe there for now?" he asked, his mind racing through every possible scenario.
“I... I think so,” you replied hesitantly. “But James will come looking for us. He always does.” Your voice cracked, laden with dread.
"I will be there as soon as I can Y/N. Just stay at the motel and, if he comes for you, get the receptionist to call the police," Cillian instructed, his heart pounding.
"I can't," you stammered, a mix of frustration and fear thickening your voice. “I don’t have any ID. They won't help me. They don’t know who I am. I am not...I am not meant to be here, in Ireland," you explained, crying on the other end, and Cillian felt the pit of despair forming in his stomach, realising that you were here illegally and without a visa, which suddenly all made sense to him.
The fact that you did not want to go to hospital an the fact that you did not want to involve the police were logical approaches for him now as he processed the layers of your silence.
“Y/N, listen to me,” he said firmly, trying to project calmness. “Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you," he determined, causing you to sigh with a mix of relief and desperation.
“Thank you!" you finally breathed, a fragile note of hope hovering in the air.
“It's alight. Just hold tight, okay? I’m on my way,” Cillian reassured, his brow furrowed as he scanned the room, taking stock of Naomi’s simmering anger.
“Are you really going to help her?” Naomi spat , her voice laced with disdain as she pulled the sheets tighter around her. The air between them thickened, charged with tension. Cillian dropped his phone on the bed, expression hardening.
"Yes," he said, his voice low and unwavering as he felt Naomi’s eyes boring into him, her irritation simmering just below the surface.
“Cillian,” she interrupted, her voice laced with an edge. “You can’t just go and bail out a stranger like this. You don't know that woman," she cautioned him as he hung up the phone and jumped out of bed to put on some clothes.
“Naomi, she’s a young mother in trouble. Her husband has been abusing her and she needs help,” Cillian snapped, pulling a shirt over his head.
“Send her the directions to the local womens shelter then ,” Naomi insisted, her voice rising. “That’s what those places are for. You can’t just invite her into our lives; you don’t even know her story!”
Cillian turned sharply, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “She's got no fucking visa, Nom, so she can't just waltz into a shelter and expect them to help her, without ID and all,” Cillian shot back, pulling on his jeans with a fervour that matched the fire in his gut.
“Okay, fine. But she can’t stay with us,” Naomi countered, crossing her arms defiantly. "Because that would be ridiculous," Naomi snapped, her voice strident as she got up too and paced the room, the luxury of their surroundings felt constricting now.
"I will sort something out for her," Cillian replied, his voice steady, yet the intensity of the moment pressed against him like an impending storm.
Naomi shook her head, disbelief etched in her features. "This is insane! You don’t even see it. She’s not just some lost puppy, Cillian. You don’t owe her anything,” Naomi continued, frustration seeping into her voice. "She could be a serial killer or a thief! You don’t know her!” Naomi said sharply, causing Cillian to chuckle.
“And now you are being ridiculous," he retorted, his patience fraying. “I will be back in an hour," Cillian grabbed his car keys from the side table on the way as Naomi scoffed, her green eyes narrowing, but he refused to meet her gaze.
****
Half an hour later, Cillian arrived at the Willow Inn, the neon sign flickering defiantly against the darkness. The parking lot lay quiet under the pale glow of streetlights, the air thick with tension. He stepped out of his car, taking a deep breath as he surveyed the dimly lit entrance.
The smell of stale smoke and cheap diner food clung to the air, oppressive and unwelcoming. As he crossed the threshold, the dingy reception area welcomed him with a musty warmth, its garish wallpaper peeling at the edges.
"Oh my god, can I help you?" the receptionist asked, recognising Cillian from his recent movie roles. Her eyes widened, reflecting a flash of starstruck admiration amid the otherwise dull surroundings.
"Yes actually. I am looking for a young woman with two children. One is a baby. She called me from this motel:” Cillian explained, his voice steady despite the weight of apprehension pooling in his gut.
"Oh right, of course. I offered her a tea and some food. She is in the communal room out the back," the woman said, her voice slightly breathless as she reached for the keys resting on the counter, eager to help. "Come, I will take you to her," she then went on to say, motioning for Cillian to follow her.
"Thank you," Cillian replied, and without waiting for more, he followed her down a narrow, dimly lit hallway, the sound of his footsteps muffled against the worn carpet. Anxiety twisted in his stomach as he pictured you, alone with your children, seeking sanctuary in a place that felt anything but safe.
The receptionist led him to a small communal room, its flickering fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over mismatched furniture. A chipped table sat awkwardly in the centre, surrounded by plastic chairs that creaked under the weight of time. Cillian's eyes settled on you, seated in one corner with Mika cradled against you, the small baby swaddled tightly in a fluffy blanket. Your face, typically so soft and inviting, bore the marks of distress. You featured several bruises that marred your complexion, each one a testament to the fear and pain you’d endured.
"Y/N," Cillian called out and your head snapped up, wide eyes locking onto his. In that moment, something shifted within you, a mixture of uncertainty and relief flickered across your expression.
“Thank god,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper above the sounds of the motel’s worn walls, raw with emotion.
He moved closer, easing into the intimate chaos of the moment. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, kneeling beside you to get on your level, his eyes scanning your face for any further signs of distress.
“I was so scared you wouldn’t come,” you said in a voice thick with emotion, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“Why wouldn't I?" Cillian’s brow furrowed, his voice gentle but firm as he searched your eyes, looking for the underlying truth to your fear. “I said I would help you.”
You pulled Mika closer to your chest, the tiny baby nestled against you as if sensing your distress. “It’s been so hard,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “James…my husband... he found out I was trying to leave. There was no stopping him. He—he said he would hurt me again. I didn't know what to do,” you whispered, the tremor in your voice betraying the stoicism you'd tried so hard to maintain.
"Sshh ," Cillian soothed gently, his hand reaching out cautiously to touch your arm, his warmth radiating through the chilly air. "It's okay. You're safe now," he reassured, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You did the right thing by leaving.”
Your eyes darted nervously around the room as if seeking an escape route from You looked at him, the weight of his words sinking in, though uncertainty still clung to you like a heavy fog. “But what if he finds us?” you asked, a whisper filled with fear.
Cillian shook his head. “He won’t for a while and, by the time he does, we would have dealt with everything, okay?" Cillian promised as his grip tightened gently on your arm, anchoring you in the moment.
“I will help you and you are not going back to him," Cillian declared fiercely, his blue eyes burning with a determination that softened your growing fear.
“You don’t understand,” you murmured, the weight of your circumstances crashing down anew. “He knows people and I might get deported. I will loose my children if he reports me to the department and I can’t let that happen,” you breathed, your voice trembling as tears began to spill down your cheeks.
Cillian’s heart ached at your confession, outrage roiling within him at the thought of your situation. “You won’t lose your children,” he replied firmly, resolutely, his voice cutting through the despair like a beacon of hope. “I’ll help you every step of the way. We’ll figure this out together. We will get you a lawyer and a safe place to stay," Cillian asserted, his voice unwavering as he looked deep into your eyes. "I promise you that," he declared, causing you to cry.
Your tears fell freely now, a release of the immense weight you had carried for so long. “But why are you helping me?" you asked, unsure of his intentions.
Cillian inhaled sharply, the question hanging heavy between you.
“Because it’s the right thing to do," he replied earnestly, his gaze steady. "No one should have to live in fear, especially not a mother with her children. You deserve better than this," Cillian said, his voice softening as he squeezed your hand gently, seeking to reassure you through the chaos that surrounded your lives.
You stared at him, vulnerability etched across your features. The warmth of his hand enveloped yours, bridging the gap between fear and hope. "But what if it isn’t enough?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, as if the very air held the weight of your despair.
Cillian met your gaze, unwavering. “It will be enough,” he vowed, squeezing your hand once more as if it could transfer strength directly to your weary spirit.
"Now, lets get you somewhere safe," Cillian urged, glancing around the dimly lit room. "A proper hotel in town," he then chuckled before looking at the receptionist and saying to her "no offense."
The receptionist merely shrugged, a knowing smile breaking through the weary lines of her face. “None taken,” she murmured as Cillian turned back to you.
"No, no hotel. James works in personal and corporate security. He will call around all the major chains and find us,” you explained, voice trembling as you hugged Mika tighter to your chest, the baby’s small frame offering you a sliver of comfort amidst the turmoil. “I don’t even know where we can go that he won’t find us,” you confessed, vulnerability threading through your words as if they might shatter under the weight of your fear.
Cillian's brow furrowed, but he kept his expression calm, focusing on finding a solution.
"You can come with me to my house, just for tonight," Cillian suggested, his voice steady, as if the mere idea could shield you from the storm that loomed overhead. "I don't have a cot or anything, but we could figure out a way to make it work. You and the girls will be safe there," Cillian continued, his voice unwavering as he locked eyes with you, willing you to trust him.
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crypticpuffin · 2 days ago
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behold..... the first section of the first chapter of my fic. I got discouraged with it lately but I'm gonna try and keep going with it if I can anyways. read the excerpt below the cut!
Chapter 1
Lambert touched the console nearest to her, allowing the ever-present hum of the ship to vibrate through her space-weary bones. Just the knowledge that they were on their way back home made the feeling somewhat soothing; a promise of safe passage, maybe, or just a reminder that there was nothing to worry about.
She knew she was being ridiculous when she worried about what ifs– she’d always been a worrier, and everyone had always told her to relax, to just let it go. But Joan Lambert had never been very good at letting things go.
Are you scared, little lamb?
“Lambert?”
Upon hearing her crewmate’s voice, she retracted her hand from the console– it was stupid, but something about being alone with someone else (another woman, her brain specified unhelpfully) often made her feel a bit insecure and even nervous. Ellen Ripley was unfortunately no exception. She turned around to face the ship’s third officer, feeling suddenly self-conscious of her appearance. Cryosleep had left her feeling used up and vaguely sick– she was sure that much was evident on her face.
“Yes?” Lambert asked, forcing out the word through the thick buzzing of her thoughts.
If Ripley noticed anything was amiss, thankfully, she didn’t show it.
“Family dinner in five– Dallas’ orders,” she stated simply, but with a little quirk of her lip at the word family. Always that effortless way about her– like other people didn’t scare her. Like nothing scared her.
If Lambert let herself feel it, she might’ve envied her crewmate’s seeming fearlessness; but jealousy was an ugly thing, and besides, Ripley had done nothing to earn any ill will on her part. She was just trying to get by and get home, like all of them. Instead, Lambert let herself feel only a discomfort settle over her skin at the other woman’s words, like an invisible itch she didn’t dare touch.
“Okay, thanks,” she replied, smiling as effortlessly as she could pretend to. She wanted to turn around and drown in her thoughts again, let them pull her under and fill her marrow with that familiar white noise, but Ripley wasn’t leaving. In fact, she was knitting her eyebrows together just slightly; a small tug of concern, maybe, like she’d seen Lambert’s facade for what it was. Shit.
She hated that other women made her feel like this sometimes, especially beautiful women like Ripley– around them, she felt exposed, different. She had transitioned very early in life, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days that that acid doubt didn’t eat away at her, that burning fear that spoke in her mother’s voice and asked her:
Why do you think you could ever fool them?
Most of the time, it was just more static in the incessant din of her head; but sometimes she might have sworn that she could hear that voice as if her mother was standing right behind her, as if her ghost had persisted through the cold vastness of space just to haunt her.
“Are you all right, Lambert?”
She blinked her heavy thoughts away, letting them sink into the pit of her stomach like stones to the sea floor.
“Yeah,” she answered, managing a breathless chuckle as she said it. “I’m fine.” Sensing this might not be enough to dispel her crewmate’s concerns, she went on, “Just still waking up from the cryosleep. Always leaves me kinda disoriented, I guess.”
Ripley nodded with a little smile.
“Yeah, I can’t say I don’t feel the same,” she agrees, and Lambert thinks she can see a small light in her dark eyes, as if she was enjoying the conversation. She doesn’t know what to make of that. “If it helps, Brett managed to throw up afterwards.”
That got an almost involuntary laugh out of her. “Why do you think that would make me feel better?”
She shrugged, but her smile hadn’t faded in the slightest. “I mean, it’s just kind of impressive. After all that time, what did he even have to throw up?”
Lambert’s mouth fell open before a few incredulous, but genuine notes of laughter tumbled out of it. “You’re disgusting, oh my god. Why would you even talk about that?”
Ripley’s smile turned into something more sly, but no less warm.
“I don’t know. Maybe I just wanted to make you laugh.”
Lambert almost choked on thin air. What?
Before she could even attempt to formulate a response to that, Ripley was already flashing her an almost professional smile– almost, because it didn’t reach the amused warmth in her eyes at all– and turning to make her way over to the mess hall, where the others were probably waiting. 
As Lambert watched her go, she began to notice that the buzzing in her head had subsided; in its place, she could feel a soft humming, vibrating through her whole body, seeping through her skin and swirling in her ears like music sometimes did.
She didn’t know how to put a name to the sensation… but maybe, if she was brave enough, she could find out.
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nighttimereader0 · 3 days ago
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Sylus x reader
Currently suffering from an eye infection so lol but I recently got back into writing, keep in mind this isn’t proofread and there will be a part two with smut I promise for now however enjoy this tease 😜
His fingers traveled down from my arms to my hands and interlocked his fingers with mine. A simple touch had set my skin alight and set off the intense throbbing sensation between my thighs and small moan escaped through my lips. “I hope your body only reacts to my touch like this, sweetie” Sylus said in a low toned voice into my ear, his breath lightly fanned my neck, hoping to feel his lips on mine I turned my head to face his, his red eyes glistened with a desire much darker and more full of lust he takes his eyes of my own and looks down at my lips, which causes me to look down at his, the thought of his lips on mine intensifies the throbbing sensation. We both lean into each other.
The sound of my alarm clock wakes me up from my dream. “That dream again…” since Sylus has been more prominent in my day to day life I’ve started having this dream that causes me to wake up out of breath and in a puddle of my own sweat. It is a dream I wish to make into a reality. However, not only was Sylus the leader of Onychinus but he also has quite a few fan girls in the N109 zone wether that be for power or money doesn’t matter to me, they are getting far too close to the man I desire. The only question that continues to swirl through my mind is if Sylus desires me just as much or if this is all in my head.
The thought of leaving my warm bed irked me, even though I’m not working today I still have cleaning to do at home, since the overhaul of missions I haven’t been able to maintain my apartment as well as I should do so I decided that on my day off I would finally clean it. My feet step onto the cold floor which made my whole body break out in goosebumps. I looked at my phone and opened my notes app to the checklist I had prepared for today. “The quicker I get started, the quicker I can relax” I tell myself in an attempt to prepare myself for the onslaught of cleaning.
After hours of cleaning my apartment was looking the best it had ever looked, whilst admiring my apartment a ring had cut through my ears causing me to turn to my phone on the table, the name that showed shot a wave of heat straight down to my core. Sylus. I breathe to regain myself and quick answer the phone.
“Was starting to think you wouldn’t pick up sweetie” he said with a hint of playfulness.
“Sorry for making you wait, what’s up?”
“I missed hearing your voice so I called, is that a problem?”
“….N-no not at all, I just finished cleaning my apartment.”
“I can see that”
I look out the window to see a familiar mechanical crow peeking into my window, it’s red eyes scanning my every move.
“You know, one day I’m gonna dismantle Mephisto” I say glaring at the trespassing bird
“Good luck with that sweetie, he does bite” he said with a small chuckle
“I will keep that in mind, anyway are you sure you don’t need me for anything?”
“Bold of you to assume I would only call if I needed something, I hold you in much higher regard than that but since you asked I was wondering if you and me can spend a few days together again, I have missed you…” he said with a hint of longing and adoration.
“I’m free for the next few days…..Is that okay for you Sylus”
“I will pick you up at 7, bye sweetie”
Before I could even say bye the phone call cut off, “rude” I say into the phone as if Sylus could hear me still. I pick up myself from the chair I was sitting on and headed straight for the bathroom to shower, the burning desire for Sylus only got bigger, the thought of me seeing him in all his glory made me clench , oh the things that man does.
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hypervoxel · 9 months ago
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Enough discourse, I wanna post about headcanons
The Vees are a polycule to me, but in a way that I can't even explain without an entire slowburn fanfic (stay tuned. I'm a slow writer). But I will try.
Velvette:
I do adhere to the lesbian Velvette headcanon. She's dating Vox and still occasionally joins Valentino for a threesome with him. When she first joined the Vees, Velvette used to identify as bisexual (and still loves the bi flag colors the most) and all three of them used to date, before Velvette realized that she's a lesbian.
She and Vox are still dating, and they have an open relationship.
Vox:
Vox's response to Velvette coming out was, "So you're breaking up with Val?" Yes, his pronouns are he/him. No, he's not a man. He'd long shed the fleshy confines of humanity and gender along with it.
Vox is aspec, agender, autistic. To me. He's sex favorable of the 'I want to do it for my partner's enjoyment' flavor. Watching from cameras brings him just as much enjoyment, and he watches everything and everyone, living vicariously, a voyer through the screen. As a result of that, he's so so touched starved, but his sense of feeling is muted (the consequences of betraying flesh in favor of the machine). Soft touches to his synthetic skin don't really register, his sense of feeling restricted to mostly pressure and pain, so he's become a bit of a masochist in response because that's something physical.
Valentino:
He just likes sex. He chases pleasure in any form he can find, dopamine rushes from numerous drugs, orgasmic release, the rush of power from crushing someone underfoot. Anything and everything, he'll try it all. And none of it is really enough, so he'll never stop chasing more.
Valentino doesn't consider his relationship with Vox romantic, even if Vox totally does. They're friends, sure, business partners, absolutely, and fuckbuddies wherever Val is in the mood for it. But romance isn't Val's thing. That's hard work, and Val saves romancing for potential new hires he wants to sign a contract with. What Vox and he have is also written down on a contract, joining their businesses together too closely to be parted without blood, but it's not the same. Not to Val. So, he wouldn't call Vox his boyfriend, but he also wouldn't correct anyone who said they were. Vox is someone he can let his guard down with, one of the few people who would never want to get out of the contract their names are signed on. They work well together. That's better than any romance you can get in Hell, Val thinks.
Val and Velvette are catty besties. Pan/Lesbian solidarity and hostility all in one.
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buttercup-barf · 5 months ago
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Under the cut are mostly self-insert doodles of decreasing quality. Again, not much directly tied to Team Fortress 2. Might as well toss these out while I have no access to my puter. Much yapping under the cut and in the tags incoming.
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Another self-insert, this time less of a "here's me as a tenth class" and more of a "here's my game experiences translated into the class I would take the place of". The Cleaner. Although I guess they could still be wearing either suit. It doesn't matter that much.
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That one Convict's Case taunt with Backup would be extremely funny, because the man would be on the verge of a breakdown (he does not want to go to jail so bad you have no idea). The second image- I owe no explanation. You know what I am. You see the pattern with my favourites.
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The duality of the man. Resting face versus "just heard you express interest in religion/Russian folklore" face. He's not that hard to make friends with, when you pull him away from all the explosions.
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Some doodles of trying to figure his face out. Unfortunately, the more I stare at him, the more I worry that he looks like A Certain Guy With The Last Name "Kazarin", and the fear of never being original in my life caught up to me.
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Don't look at me, don't perceive me, I refuse to explain any of my actions to you.
#team fortress 2#tf2#that's it that's the only tags i am putting this in. maybe someday i will have the balls to do more but for now that's about it#while i have the chance - and since posts with more of my yapping in the tags don't pop in people's feeds much - i might as well ramble-#-about these guys here. self-inserts or not i'm projecting only half of my bullshit on each one of them. creativity 👍#backup is tall and pale and has sharp canines and more of a dull brown hair colour with tired grey eyes. no amount of babyface or soft-#-hands can really help a motherfucker when he's grimacing so much because he just Hates being around half the people on the team.#cleaner meanwhile is on the shorter side and has constantly flushed skin and brighter colours and whatnot. you can't see it because of the-#-mask most of the time but they do smile a lot more and have a more cheery disposition towards life and see the whole team as their friends!#backup transitioned fully (albeit not very legally lmao) and is scared shitless of not being seen as a man although the last time that ever-#-came up was years ago. he holds onto his last name as part of the heritage he loves and loathes at the same time - attached to his culture-#-and religion and bloodline while also resentful of his family and the regime he knows someone else on the team suffered under.#cleaner just kinda binds and calls it a day. he only does it to confuse the team because while he doesn't identify with being a girl he-#-loves the confused looks his epic gender reveal moment gets. they do not remember their family name or where they grew up or what even got-#-them to this kind of mental state. and he's chill with it he values the here and now way more than some dark edgy backstory.#backup despite trying to be an honest man is afraid of vulnerability as well. he stubbornly refuses to express love towards certain people-#-lest they feel disgusted and turn away. he's afraid of consequences afraid of losing the people he loves afraid of his ''interests'' being-#-what drives them away. it doesn't by the way and he just wasted time being a cold indecisive loser for several months lmao#cleaner wears a suit that hides all of them yes but they pretty much never lie. he is always his truest self and he can always just burn-#-people who don't like him enough to make it a problem. they are a lot more comfortable indulging in their interests - be they innocent-#-and juvenile or violent and dangerous. he is quite open with his affection and his fascinations that backup would rather keep secret.#i want to establish that these two can only exist in separate universes because they both have feelings towards the funny assistant lady-#-and the funny inventor guy (selfshipping for the winnn) and would fight over those two. cleaner would win by the way#it's also a really funny point of comparison. cleaner is objectively more fucked up than backup and still managed to be more normal about-#-their feelings and live as a healthier and happier person than that guy. comedic gold honestly#OKAY I'M DONE if you read up to here you get uhhh a cookie :-)
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