#Giving in and giving up framed as the way to get what he wants | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notjustjavierpena · 3 days

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King

Main Masterpost

A/N: A happy return my dark sugardaddy!joel. It’s truly been too long. I hope you enjoy his dark and looming presence.

Summary: You do what it takes to get that car you’ve wanted for a while.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, sugardaddy/sugarbaby dynamics, abusive relationship, dom/sub dynamics, hint at virginity kink, power dynamics, reader calls joel ‘king’. daddy kink, light bondage, verbal humiliation, demeaning talk about sex work, praise kink, slapping, manhandling, dacryphilia, choking, rough piv sex, cream pie, no aftercare

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56477767

King

You run your fingers down over the front of your little black dress. It’s not your favorite but it doesn’t matter as it is not the centerpiece of your outfit, mischievously hiding an emerald green set of lingerie underneath it that peeks out from under the hem in the form of a garter belt.

The silk underwear is new, bought only last week when Joel took you shopping for something new to tear to pieces. He’d chosen this color very carefully but you suspect that it had really been the heart-shaped gap between your legs that had made it sell itself. You knew instantly then, from the way his eyes had darkened and his suit pants had tightened, that it would become a useful weapon in getting what you wanted. Not that you would ever say it out loud (and you suspect that he knows) but Joel is sometimes easy to read, easy to wrap around your finger if you let him do as he pleases. He cares about your happiness and wants but he just doesn’t like to say it out loud, likes to play games so it looks like it is his idea. You’re happy to indulge him in this fantasy if you end up benefiting from it anyway.

The black dress has no uneven ruffles but you still smooth it out underneath your palms. Then you head to his king-sized bed, toeing off your shoes, and decide to take a nap on your front until he gets home. He doesn’t even know you have a mission.

Joel arrives home a few hours later. You wake up from the sound of his car crunching the gravel of his driveway, announcing his arrival like an impending hurricane that has consciousness to be merciful but only if it likes. You imagine the scene in your head; the sight of the car coming to a jarring halt, the door being opened and a single foot hitting the solid ground.

You get out of bed immediately with your heart pounding at the thought of seeing him in just a moment. You leave your shoes behind as you exit the bedroom, tiptoeing out into the hall to peer down at the front door from the top of the enormous staircase.

You can hear the jingle of his keys and then he is framed in the doorway, a dark shadow in contrast to the pining sunlight outside. He looks around for you for a moment, surveying his large home with a presence that fills the space completely.

You try to steady your breathing so as to not reveal yourself to be spying on him, taking note of how he carries himself and what mood radiates from him. Sometimes it’s not the right time to ask for things. Sometimes it’s better to just spread your legs or open your mouth.

However, Joel simply closes the door and lets out a tired, relieved breath, hand coming up to run across his forehead and using two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. His shoulders slump at this moment that he thinks he is alone, and you release a breath that you didn’t know you have been holding in as you find no clenched fists or angry muttering to himself.

You make your way back to his bedroom and decide that sitting obediently on the edge of the bed, posing as someone who has been waiting to make his life easier, is the best way forward.

It takes a little while before you hear his footsteps approaching outside the room. He opens the door slowly, entering the room with his still impressive demeanor. You give him a little smile and push yourself to stand, making your way towards him and pecking his lips when you stand in front of him.

“Hey,” he says, only a hint of warmth in his tired voice. He reaches out to place a hand on your waist, his grip on your body feeling more like a claim than a comfort.

“You look tired,” you note and cup his cheek with your dominant hand. He closes his eyes briefly as if drawing something from your touch, draining something out of you. When he opens them again, they go down to take in your appearance. His grip on your waist tightens.

“And you look…” he begins but is unsure how to compliment the effort you’ve put into your outfit that’s only for him. It seems like he genuinely wants to say something nice until his eyes narrow in suspicion, “What’s this for?”

“I want a new car,” you let him tower over you as you decide to be bold in his fatigued state. Your fingers come up to peel the straps of your dress off, letting them droop down over your delicate skin for just a second before pulling the rest of the dress down to pool around your feet. You step out of it, don’t dare smile in case he might see it as smugness.

Joel looks unimpressed, disappointed even. He narrows his eyes further, a flicker of irritation across his face. He lets go of your body as if you are suddenly not interesting anymore, reaches to undo the knot on his tie, “Take one of my old ones. I have plenty… and with the way ya drive I shouldn’t be spendin’ so much goddamn money on somethin’ new and shiny because you’re bored of your other toys.”

“Joel,” you pout, entwining your fingers in front of you to make your arms squeeze your breasts together tightly while you push out your bottom lip.

“That ain’t my name,” he replies and briefly looks down at your cleavage, “And what? The little princess didn’t like her pony? You’re so fuckin’ spoiled. A dumb cliché.”

“Daddy,” you correct yourself and he nods once. You walk backward towards the bed, crawling onto it and making sure he watches you with every step you take, teasing the bottomless panties while doing it. You sit on your knees, his favorite submissive position, and smile with the hope of making his dick hard. It’ll make this so much easier, “Please. I can earn it. I can be a good girl.”

“Show me whatcha got,” he tells you, his tone letting you know that his attention is fleeting so you better make use of it now that you have it.

You lay down on your front, propping yourself up on your elbows by resting your chin in your hands. You give him a sweet, doe-eyed smile, “Honey, you’ve had such a long day.”

“Nope,” he rejects the fantasy with a bored expression but still takes one step closer to the bed, “Try again.”

You try not to let him see the frustration on your face that your first fantasy fell through, recovering quickly by getting up on your slightly-spread knees. You grab the end of the bed, leaning forward to make your position even more provocative.

“It’s my first time, Daddy,” you say with a pout, blinking your long lashes at him, “I’m a little nervous. I’m so wet between my legs. Can you tell me what’s happening to me?”

Even as Joel swallows thickly, he shakes his head while he walks to the side of the bed. He stares at you from a few feet away from the edge, “No. Again.”

You notice that he is getting hard but you know him well enough to tell that it is from the game that you are playing with each other right now and not from how you look or act. He gets off on the power he has over you, and you feel yourself getting excited from it too.

Power. That’s the one.

You crawl forward and lay down on your back on the vulgarly huge bed, staring up at him as you swing your legs out over the edge of it. You spread them slowly to make his gaze burn, revealing the heart-shaped hole in your panties and your soaked pussy that he can slide into if he wants. All he has to do is take a few steps forward and lift your thighs over his hips.

Joel is too easy sometimes but mostly when he’s in one of his good moods. He stands beside the bed not a second later, looking down at you with awaiting eyes. You know exactly which words to make him fuck you until you cry, even feel a little silly that it hadn’t occurred to you the second you saw him enter the house.

You give him a hazy look, holding your thighs open for him. His gaze bores into yours and you swear that he can read your mind. Even so, you don’t blink or cower under the look of God.

“You’re my king, Daddy.”

“Attagirl, that’s better,” he praises to make your skin prickle and your chest feel ablaze.

Something in Joel’s eyes darkens with the idea of being superior in every way and the spark of fire that you have ignited only seems to grow when you don’t try to act like this isn’t the case but instead give in and let him know just how beneath him you are. Figuratively and literally.

He reaches for his belt, unbuckling it with rough hands as he plans your demise in his head, all kindness seeping out of his face as if the way he praised you seconds ago simply didn’t happen. There’s something about those Shinigami eyes, teasing the border between fear and arousal. The urgency of his movements tells you that it’ll hurt for days but the pretty things that you’ll receive in return are worth not being able to stand upright for a while. You calm your beating heart by listing cars in your mind, choosing colors, models, and leather seats.

You return to reality when you hear Joel’s fingers snap in front of your face. He sneers, kneeling on the bed with one knee and pulling off his tie completely, “Don’tcha fuckin’ think you get to decide what car you’re gettin’, honey. If you want one, I decide. We clear?”

You watch with pleading eyes, knowing you should say something but faltering because all you want to do is complain about his decision. There goes that dream of an expensive Aston Martin, the one that has kept you scrolling through your phone.

“You dare make your King wait?” He spits harshly when you don’t answer quickly enough, his eyes going practically black with rage. There’s no emotion in them anymore, not even when you whimper at his tone. He reaches out for your arms, violently yanking them towards himself so he can wrap the tie around your wrists, and the panic that you feel suddenly starts to make you cry. He ties a painful knot, securing your arms tightly until he pushes them over your head, “You don’t behave then you don’t getta touch.”

You whine with tears at the corners of your eyes, looking away in shame in the way that he likes. However, it is actually a punishment because you do really like touching him - or at least just hold onto him, which you still can but you don’t dare move your arms back down - when he fucks you. The avoidance of his powerful eyes earns you a slap to your right breast, and you yelp in surprise.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you babble, barely able to croak out a coherent reply whilst you twist on the sheets from the unprepared sting to your chest. As you turn your body to the side, subconsciously trying to protect yourself from more painful strikes, you curl in on yourself and thus pull your legs shut, “You know best, I-I know. I understand.”

“Lie still, ya bimbo. I saw that hole between ya legs drippin’ wet, so you’re gonna lemme use it or you won’t get as much as a damn penny for your stupid new obsession,” he curls his calloused hands around your thighs until they dent the skin and maneuvers you onto back once more. He holds your legs open, knees pressing into the mattress until you feel as though your hips might dislocate. He stares down between your legs, smiling to himself at the heart shape in your panties. The stitching of it is coated in your slick, obscene in how creamy and white it is compared to the emerald color of the fabric. Joel makes a primal sound, “Daddy fuckin’ likes. God, I am gonna ruin ya, baby, ruin this well-behaved pussy.”

“Just for you, Daddy. It’s all just for you, I promise, money or not,” you cry quietly with your bottom lip sticking out, wiggling your hips as much as you can under his powerful weight to show how desperate you are for him. You want to tell him that he already has ruined you. Oh, how thoroughly he has ruined you and ruined everyone else for you. However, no one should make the mistake of thinking you have not let him, no, you have waited for him to find you in a sea of unimportant and tedious nobodies, and fuck, you love him for it. Even if he makes you cry.

“That’s right, just f’me,” he smiles down at you almost tenderly whilst removing one hand from your thigh to undo his pants. You smile with wet cheeks, eyes glazed over as he hurries to get his cock out, the head red and angry from not having enough attention. You put on a show of looking like your life depends entirely upon whether he gets inside of you soon.

“You want Daddy to fuck ya? Fuck ya so I’ll give in like I always fuckin’ do?” He aligns himself with you, gliding the thick head of his length through your soaked folds.

“Please,” you choke out feebly when he starts to spear you on his dick, feeding you inch by inch with his girth until your whole lower body buzzes with greed. Your tied-up hands grip the sheets above your head, your breath shaky as he drapes your thighs over his hips when he has bottomed out inside you.

Your voice wavers as he starts moving inside of you, setting a painful pace that has your eyes rolling back into your skull, your body thrashing, and your moans climbing in pitch like you are possessed. He knows what you like and you can feel he might be generous about it today. After all, you’ve put in so much effort to look nice and what would a King be if he couldn’t exceed in everything? That means even your pleasure.

He leans over you when you tighten your legs around his waist, rough hands settling on your hip bones so he can grind harshly into you. You beg for him, pleading his name as if in prayer again and again. His pelvis nudges at your swollen yet untouched clit. It causes you to scream and grab harder at the sheets as your orgasm builds up fast. You sob on the shaking bed as he puts more effort into each thrust. The head of his cock molds you to fit him each time, reaching something inside of you that has you sizzling with ecstasy in a way that no man has ever made possible before. You didn’t even know you could come like this, so intensely, before you met him but despite his talent, he is cruel even in his generosity.

“You’re gettin’ fucked for a dumb car, you know that?” He growls above you, staring down at your wide eyes and open mouth. He moans with a smirk, “You know what that makes ya?”

He keeps you on the edge with his thrusts, teasing an orgasm that he doesn’t allow to come yet. In the most frustrating of ways, you find that even if he exceeds in making you come, it’s not a given that he’ll just hand it over to you. Nothing is ever out of the goodness of his heart. You nod frantically as if it’ll make him think you are anything other than pathetic, “Yes! Oh God, yes, please.”

“Say it, sweetheart,” he demands, splaying a hand on your chest and letting it travel up to rest on your neck. However, he doesn’t squeeze to watch your face heat up in panic or push his merciless thumb into your windpipe. Instead, he waits for you to follow orders.

“A whore, Daddy,” you reply with a whimper, driven crazy by the unreleased tension in your lower belly. You scrunch your eyebrows, “Please— ah, l-let me come.”

“That’s right, a filthy, little, gold-diggin’ whore,” he lets out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a moan. Those words make your cunt clench around his cock, walls squeezing enough to make him switch up his pace. His thrusts become sharp and erratic, sending you hurtling towards your high so quickly that you throw your head back and involuntarily twist your arms as much as you can.

You come with Joel’s violent grip on your throat, with your tits bouncing in the skimpy outfit and your pussy gushing on his dick when your clit happily gets its way. He follows behind you, panting in exhaustion as he finally gets pushed over the edge by how you pulse around him with each beat of your fluttering heart. He is warm inside you, making a mess of your panties with how much already spills out of you around his girth.

It’s intense even in its aftermath. None of you move for a moment and the body heat radiating from you to him and vice versa has you sticking to each other. Joel has a palm on the bed while the other grabs at one of your thighs that are still slung around his body. He strokes up and down to soothe you but only to slip loose of the hot choke of your pussy.

You look up at him with a soft whimper when you’re left empty, knowing not to say any actual words yet. Silently, he unties your wrist and you gaze longingly at him as he leans over you to do so. He is so commanding even when he has not uttered a word. Above you, he looks so beautifully disheveled - some of his curls have fallen into his forehead, one sticks to the sweat there - and when he is done, he quietly starts unbuttoning his shirt.

Once naked on his chest, he stares and thinks about something for less than a second. He is quick in his evaluation of the situation, finally stepping out of his bottoms. He takes his time to dig into the pocket of his discarded pants, retrieving his wallet and you wait as patiently as you can muster as the anticipation grows.

“I think that dirty fuck deserves an Aston Martin at the very least, don’tcha think?” He smiles knowingly but it doesn’t reach his eyes and places his sleek black card on the bed. You hear him mutter the word pathetic as you reach for the card but when you peek up at him, you can see the way he takes pleasure in rewarding you when you so successfully display the thrill you feel in earning it.

Your body aches but you prop yourself up on your elbows, grinning with tear-streaked cheeks, “Thank you, Daddy.”

Joel leans down over you once more, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss and tangling his hand in your hair to make you unable to pull back. He knows how to show you who is in charge but he sets it in stone when he only draws back an inch after breaking the kiss again.

“Remember, baby,” he murmurs, voice raspy with sex, “You only get what you deserve and you’ve been very deservin’ today.”

“Can I shower with you?” You smile sweetly. It seems like the right time to ask for a bit of intimacy.

Joel huffs a laugh and shakes his head, “No. Lie in it.”

He disappears after that. Your smile does too.

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dollfacefantasy · 2 days

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little drabble while i go back and forth between longer fics <3

jason todd x reader

Brown leather comes up over charcoal kevlar when Jason pulls his jacket into place. He shrugs it on before bending over and adjusting the kick pads fastened to his boots. You watch from your seat on the edge of the bed. You watch your lover conceal himself piece by piece. The tight fabric molds over his scarred body like a second skin.

You chew the inside of your cheek as a way of dealing with your frayed nerves. This feeling was becoming a constant in your life. Every night he went out, every morning he came back bloody and bruised. It was getting to the point where being calm brought on anxiety because it didn't feel right.

Swallowing hard, your eyes stay locked onto him as he goes through his routine. When he turns around, his gaze lands on you. In an instant, he knows something's wrong. He'd only been back for a little while but dying hadn't stripped him of his talent for reading your emotions.

"What's the matter, doll?" he asks.

You shake your head and shrug, trying to communicate that it was nothing without saying it was nothing. Because it was something and your voice would betray that with one syllable.

He seems to understand regardless and approaches you. His hand finds its place under your chin and guides your face upwards to look at him.

"C'mon, you know you can tell me anything," he says softly.

"I just… I don't want you to go," you say, the words coming out close to a whisper, "I hate that you still go out there every night. I just got you back. I don't wanna lose you again."

His expression grows more tender. He sits on the bed next to you and pulls you into his lap.

"Oh baby…" he coos.

You're engulfed by his frame. It seemed even bigger since he came back. Your head sinks to its preferred spot on his shoulder against his neck while his palm sweeps up and down your back. These little techniques to soothe you had become apart of a routine performed as often as him getting ready. It never led to him actually staying home though. The lust for revenge that coursed through his veins was practically coded into his dna. He'd still head out as soon as your emotions had settled, but he never passed up a chance to take care of you.

"You're not gonna lose me again, sweetheart. No way," he whispers and kisses your temple. His large body sways back and forth a bit with you in his lap. "I would never let that happen. No one's taking me away from you. I'll be out for a little while, but you know I'll come back in the morning."

You nod reluctantly and run an exhausted hand over your face.

"That's right," he murmurs before landing another kiss, "I'll be back before you wake. You'll fall asleep and then when you open your eyes I'll be there waiting for you."

You nod again and slide your arms around him to give one last lingering hug. He returns it, his grip much tighter than yours. A final kiss later, and he's up. You're placed on the mattress before he crosses the apartment and grabs the remaining piece of his persona. The sleek red of his helmet replaces the shaggy black hair you love so much. The vacant white of the mask covers the pools of turquoise in his eyes.

"Love you, baby," he says in parting before heading out the window into the night.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dc imagine #dc x reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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vanillawurld · 2 days

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༊*·˚Sensación del Bloque

✧.* Pair - Joost Klein x Fem! Reader

✧.* Tags & Warnings - fluff and cussing ig

✧.* Summary - Joost finds out about his friend's new neighbor and doesn't act upon introductions until he sees her in all of her beauty.

✧.* Extra- a couple things... reader is implied to be latina, implied to have a more tanner/browner/darker complex, and reader is going to have acrylic nails and gold jewelry cuz those are my favorite things in the world rn… also i dont speak dutch so the highlighted parts are the ppl speaking dutch. ALSOO reader has a place holder smell (vanilla) but yall can change it if you want ALSOOO reader doesn’t speak dutch okay im done now

✧.* Word Count - 1,319

Joost always enjoyed meeting new people. It always allows him to share his work with others. He can be shy about his work but it's inevitable for people to know about him and his art. People never know when they are going to meet someone new unless it's planned.

Just like any other day for an artist, Joost was working with his friend, Antu, on the production of some beats for a new song in his friend’s apartment. “Man, I'm kind of hungry I'm not going to lie,” Antu randomly said, taking his eyes off his computer to look at Joost. They’ve been working on beats since the morning and being too focused on work, they forgot about the basic essentials a human body needs. Food.

“Well, what do you want to get? I don’t feel like driving so pick a place near here,” Joost replied.

Joost felt like it was an eternity letting Antu pick a fast food place. When he finally decided where to get food, they placed an order through the phone for pick up and waited. It was a quiet couple of minutes of waiting until Antu broke the silence, “I got a new neighbor”

“Seriously?”

“Yup. I’ve been trying to talk to her but she kind of ignores me. Like she’s playing hard to get,” Antu shared.

Joist gave him a confused look, “I thought you were talking to Sofie. Did you guys stop talking or something?”

Antu looked at Joost, “No… Im still talking to Sofie but that doesn’t mean im taken,” he said, making Joost roll his eyes.

“Do you know where she moved from?” Joost asked

Antu shrugged, “I heard some of the other neighbors say she’s not from Europe though. Probably somewhere in the Americas.”

A couple of minutes rolled by and Joost decided to start making his way to the place to pick up the food they ordered. He walked out of the apartment and checked his phone to see if the order was complete. While he was checking, he heard the next door open and was met by the most gorgeous looking woman he has ever seen. that must’ve been the new neighbor Antu was talking about.

She was gorgeous. everything about her screamed “goddess”. Her hair, her makeup, her jewelry, her nails everything. Joost didn’t wanna stare, but it was hard not to. The way her hair hugged the frame of her face. The way her flawless makeup sat. The way her gold jewelry reflected on her skin. The way her acrylic nails made her hands look pretty. He was able to smell her sweet vanilla scent from where he was at. something about her, made him intrigued to know her, even though this was the first time he was seeing her.

The woman was trying to look for something in her purse and seemed like she was struggling. She ended up giving up and started walking towards the elevator past him, but what she didn’t notice was that she dropped a euro. Joost saw this and thought that God was giving him a huge opportunity to talk to her. He picked up the euro and prepared himself.

“Excuse me ma’am” she ignored him “Ma’am, excuse me” she ignored him again. He got closer to her and thats when she turned around to face him. She felt his presence. Joost was even more nervous than he was. He was up close to her and felt his body go weak. “You dropped this, ma’am” he said to her.

She gave him a confused look at first and looked at his hand that had the euro note. “Is this… mine?” she said in a confused tone. From that short moment, Joost figured out why Antu couldn’t talk to her. She didn't speak Dutch. Joost didn’t know how Antu didn’t know since he said himself that she wasn’t from Europe.

“Oh, sorry! Yes this is yours. You dropped it.” Joost said in English.

He handed her the euro and gave her a nervous chuckle. She smiled back and gently took it from him. “Thank you so much,” she said to him. Her voice was heaven to Joost’s ears.

“No, problem,” he said. She started walking away, but Joost didn’t want her to. He didn’t want to stop talking to her. He wanted more from her. “Um, ma’am” he grabbed her attention again, “did you just move here?”

“I did. 2 months ago.” she replied, “im still trying to figure out where places are and stuff. Im trying to find a good clothing store near by.”

More opportunities were coming to the Dutch artist and he didn’t want them to go to waste. “Oh, I know a bunch of stores around here. I was actually about to head out to pick up some food from a place that’s around a lot of good clothing stores. If you want we can walk together around that place,” he exclaimed.

The woman gave him a smile and a smooth giggle, “You’re sweet, but im going to pass. I want to learn on my own.”

Joost was slightly disappointed but he couldn’t complain. “W-Well if you ever need any help, im always at my friends place working, stop by anytime,” he suggested.

She nodded and continued walking, but Joost called her out again. “Uh, ma’am?” she turned around to look at him, “Can I get your name? My name is Joost” he held out his hand for her to shake.

She looked down at his hand and back at him. “Everyone here is so nice,” she commented, “My name is (Y/N),” she said while taking out her hand to shake his. Joost was analyzing every detail about her. The way she talked, the way she dressed, her smooth hand, everything. As she walked away, she turned around one last time to tell him, “I like your outfit by the way.”

He watched the way her hips swayed as she walked and was enamored. Joost smiled almost like a dork. He felt extremely giddy inside like he could jump up high like they would in those corny musicals about high school. His moment was cut short though, when Antu opened the door. “Dude, where’s the food?” he said.

“Shit, sorry. I’ll go get it right now,” Joost said while taking out his wallet.

Antu looked to his side and saw his new neighbor walking towards the elevator. He immediately connected the dots. “Bro, don’t tell me you managed to talk to her,” he questioned, but by the way Joost was smiling, he already got his answer. “Please tell me your secret, i’m being dead ass,” Antu said.

From the moment that left Antu’s mouth, Joost wanted to gate keep. He didn’t want to tell him that (Y/N) doesn’t speak Dutch she he bullshitted, “You just got to have personality to pull someone like her.”

Anti rolled his eye, “Alright calm down, buddy. I will say you are lucky though. i’ve seen men basically line up outside to see her go out because she’s always going out. Didn’t think she’d talk to a boy white as you.”

“Okay, fuck you.” Joost replied. He was shocked by what Antu said though. Having men line up for a woman who is new to the country is crazy.

“Dude, she’s basically the street sensation. You are extremely lucky to even talk to her. I’ve seen her ignore so many people. Don’t know how you did it,” Antu commented before closing the door to his apartment.

Whatever spell (Y/N) put on Joost, it was working hard. he wanted to know more about her. Where she was from, who she was, but he needed to wait. He would wait until his death to know about her. He couldn’t wait to see more of her. This was the first woman to ever make him desperate for more and it wasn’t driven by lust.

˖◛. *. ⋆ Vanilla Speaks

this was a little something... where my Latina Joost Klein bitches at

#joost klein #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #joost oneshot

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yuutx · 3 days

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐈𝐒 . . (𝒪𝒦𝒦𝒪𝒯𝒮𝒰 𝒴𝒰𝒰𝒯𝒜)

okkotsu yūta x f!reader ﾉ sfw content. ﾉ sfw + domestic fluff ﾉ established relationship ﾉ trying on yūta’s clothes ﾉ size difference ﾉ reader is shorter ‘n more petite than yūta ﾉ yūta cries happy tears ﾉ reader is quite bubbly ‘n innocent ﾉ not proofread ૮ ݂ʚ ݁𑁦꒳𑁦݂ɞ𑁤 ྀི

aaa . . ‘n u may b thinkin . . why oh why is reader so um specific ? wellll . . dis piece is quite self indulgent . . because of dis, i will most likely take dis fic down soon . . art credits go 2 @/sso_s__ on twitter ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

A grin tugged at Yuuta's lips, a small laugh spilling from him, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Soft, muffled giggles sounded from beneath the pile of clothes, the mountain of fabrics shifting. Your head popped out, a bright smile on your face, a giggle leaving you, your eyes sparkling. The two of you were sitting on the floor of his bedroom, the afternoon sun bathing the room in a warm glow, the rays of light filtering through the windows, illuminating the piles of clothes and miscellaneous items scattered across the hardwood. Yuuta was sitting cross legged, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands supporting his chin, a fond look on his face. You sat opposite of him, kneeling, the shirt that was clearly a few sizes too big on you hanging off of one shoulder, the sleeves reaching your elbows, the hemline ending just above your knees, the creamy, white cotton fabric billowing around your frame, the soft, thin material swathing your figure.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his tone tinged with amusement, a small chuckle escaping him, his smile widening. "Trying on your clothes." You replied, a happy noise sounding from you, the sound akin to a squeal, the pitch high, a bright smile lighting up your face. "I love this one!" You exclaimed, a gleeful tone coloring your voice, your words filled with excitement. He could see your arms waving under the mountain of fabrics, your limbs gesturing wildly, the movements erratic, exaggerated. "It's so soft, and comfy, and cozy!" You chirped, the exuberance evident in your voice, your enthusiasm infectious, the grin on his face growing, his expression mirroring yours. It was difficult not to get swept up in your contagious, bubbly mood.

"Can I have it? Please?" You asked, the request a plea, the word coming out as a drawn out whine, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout, your hands clasped together, your eyes wide, batting your eyelashes. A soft blush bloomed on his cheeks, a warm, fluttering feeling rising in his chest. "I, um.. Of course, you can keep it." He stammered, his blush deepening, a shy smile crossing his face. "Anything else you want?" He asked, the inquiry tentative, his voice soft, the question spoken in a hushed whisper. There was no way he'd deny you anything, not when you looked so adorable. "Hmm… this one too! And this one, and this one!" You declared, holding up an armful of shirts, the pile of fabric towering above you, the stack reaching past your head.

Yuuta watched with an indulgent expression, his smile widening, a soft chuckle leaving him. You were always so expressive, the smallest of gestures or expressions conveying the emotions that were running through you, the fleeting, ephemeral shifts in your feelings and moods as clear to him as the sun in the sky. Even the subtlest change in your tone, the smallest inflection in your voice, the briefest flickers of emotions on your face, were apparent to him. You were an open book, your heart laid bare for him to see. "And this one! I want all of them, they're all so soft, and comfortable, and warm." You said, clutching the pile of clothing close to your chest, the material held tightly in your arms, your fingers curling around the variety of materials, the fabric bunching up in your palms. "Dont worry! I'll give them back when they loose their Yuuta scent." You said, the words a cheerful declaration, your eyes shining, the bright, twinkling hue reminding him of starlight.

"Yuuta scent?" He questioned, the phrase foreign to him, the term a new addition to the extensive made-up vocabulary that you'd created, an extensive dictionary of terms and phrases that were specific to him and only him. Your head bobbed up and down, a vigorous nod, your hair bouncing, the strands flopping with the motion. "Yes! Yuuta scent. It's a special scent that you have. It's smells like.. um, home!" You said, the sentence coming out in a rush, your words jumbled together, the syllables tripping over each other. "Home.." He repeated after you, the word spoken quietly, almost hesitantly, as if he was testing the term, tasting the shape and weight of it on his tongue. "You're my home." You said, the phrase matter of fact, the words spoken with a blunt, honest candor. You spoke the sentence without hesitation, the words leaving your lips with ease, the admission as simple as stating the sky was blue.

Yuuta felt his heart skip a beat, a surge of emotions rising inside him, his throat growing thick, the lump that had formed there preventing him from speaking. He could feel his eyes burn, the corners of his vision blurring, the image of you growing fuzzy, a sheen of liquid collecting in his eyes, the liquid threatening to spill over. He blinked, the tears welling in his eyes spilling over, the droplets slipping down his cheeks. A small sniffle escaped him, the quiet sound breaking the silence, a single drop falling onto the wooden floorboards, a solitary, tiny splotch on the otherwise smooth surface. "Yuuta, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" You asked, concern filling your voice, the sound tinged with a hint of panic. "You're my home, too." He whispered, the admission barely audible, the words a hushed whisper, the quiet confession spoken in a trembling, tear choked voice.

He wiped away the tears that had trailed down his face, a watery smile crossing his lips, a quiet, shaky exhale escaping him. He opened his arms, the invitation a silent plea, a hopeful entreaty, a tentative request. Your eyes widened, the gesture not lost on you. Without hesitation, you threw yourself at him, the sudden impact making him lose his balance, his arms flailing, the movement comical, his body falling backwards, a surprised yelp leaving him. A soft grunt sounded from him as he landed on his back, the air whooshing out of his lungs. He could feel you squirming on top of him, your small, lithe form wiggling, the motion frantic, desperate, as if you were trying to burrow yourself into him, disappear into him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, his arms circling around you, pulling you to his chest. You nestled against him, burying your face into his shirt, before looking up at his tear-stained face, the liquid still clinging to his lashes, a wet, gleaming sheen to his skin. You placed a kiss on his cheek, a loud 'mwaah' accompanying the action.

"There! All better." You announced, the sentence spoken with pride, a smug, triumphant expression on your face. "All better.." He murmured, a soft smile adorning his face. His tears had dried, the salty streaks no longer visible, his eyes now clear, the earlier, blurry sheen gone, his eyes no longer red, the previous moisture that had collected in the corners of his eyes absent. The earlier panic and worry that had colored your features was now replaced by a pleased, contented look. "Good!" You praised, the words spoken in a sing-song voice. "And now that Yuuta's all better.. we can keep playing dress-up!"

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7surugi · 2 days

Text

blue waves and his last kiss ｜ satosugu x f!reader

with a friend abruptly gone from your lives one day, you and satoru are left behind to reminisce about the love from past to present, and a future without him.

[content] slice of life, hurt/comfort, unestablished relationships, mentions of sex, mentions of underage drinking & smoking, mentions of death, implied child neglect/abuse, something about trying to cope with loss and grief (?? i think), non-linear

[word count] 9.3k

[note] summer memories told out of chronological order… i tried to do something new ┐(´ー｀)┌

The train gradually slows, screeching to a stop, piercing his ears and rings. This old village is still surrounded by a dreamy haze, almost slumbering, everything here is slowed down, and Satoru can feel everything; the gentle breeze carrying the faint scent of the ocean brings him back to summer. Their summer. His summer with you.

Walking down the streets feels a little empty, drained of life, gravel crunches beneath his feet with each stride, nothing has changed within a year, and he inhales, loosening his tie. Satoru has never been fond of wearing suits for formal events; he wishes he had worn his school uniform to attend the ceremony instead.

Dreadful, thick air, the smell of the dead welcomes him before he steps into the place. White chrysanthemums, lilies, and Satoru almost finds it hard to breathe here. It’s full of people he doesn’t recognise, an old lady he thinks he met last summer, and you. Even by your back alone, Satoru knows it’s you. So small and curled up near the corner, your head is hung low, not looking at anyone or anything, eyes getting lost in the thin lines of the flooring.

Satoru kneels down beside you, wrapping an arm around your stiff shoulders. You look up in surprise, eyes empty, brimmed-red, matching the tip of your nose. “Hi. Sorry, the train was a little delayed.”

“Satoru…” your voice comes out croaky, barely above a whisper.

Satoru looks down at you, pulling you into his arms as he tells you it’s okay, that you are fine. You really aren’t fine, it’s evident in your tired expression, your broken heart you wear on your sleeve. But you are still alive. You, a non-sorcerer. That should count for something, and it does, it’s more than something, in a tragic way, Satoru understands what it means. A remaining piece of him begins to break.

You are shaking in his arms and he holds you tighter. “How could this happen? They said…” your words are lost within your mumbling and how you are pressed right against his chest. “And the police said they don’t know… I don’t—Satoru.” His name escapes your mouth, you say it so sadly, begging him for something he can’t give to you, something that he wants, too.

“I don’t know,” he chokes out an easy lie, thin, almost painful, none of his eyes are looking at you. His line of sight is only focused on the pairs of slanted eyes that replicate the deep, soul sucking ones he had first met when the cherry blossoms bloomed three years ago. Incense smoke rising high in front of the still frames.

—

Satoru forces himself to tag along, much like he always seems to do these days, hanging off of Suguru, following him around to annoy him. He allows Satoru to come with him to visit his hometown because Suguru wouldn’t leave him in this shithole alone, right? (Of course, Suguru would never do that.)

After hours riding the train, it comes to a slow stop. Cicadas greet them with a loud screech in the air once they hop off the train, the familiar scent of the ocean hits, and that’s how Suguru knows he returned back to his hometown. It’s humid, too hot out here, his loose strand of hair begins to stick to his forehead, and Suguru wipes away the sweat. He glances over to Satoru who looks absolutely fine in the heat, he doesn’t understand how Satoru rarely sweats, even during training. Even Buddha has his favourites.

“Oh, wow? This place is so…” Satoru trails off as he looks around at the scenery around them.

“So what?”

“Unique.” It clicks off of Satoru’s tongue like a sickening sweet insult, coated bright red in the cherry flavoured lollipop that he sucked on the ride here. Rude. Snobby. And hypocritical. Satoru had been raised in the countryside too, Suguru learned this months after being ridiculed by the said boy for being a ‘country boy’. They aren’t so different. However (unlike him), Satoru is someone special, so special, and was raised in a secluded place for a reason. A reason nobody, but the holder of six-eyes could understand, and a small fishing village like this is nothing compared to what Satoru is used to.

Suguru rolls his eyes at that, not replying, to which Satoru takes as a sign to continue speaking. “It’s very you, Sugu-chan. I mean it.”

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Okay, sorry, so sorry,” he unapologetically replies with a smirk, childish and irritating, mischief reflecting in his icy eyes, a grin that begins to grow deviously. “Guru-chan.”

“God, you’re so annoying sometimes.”

“Oh, you should know flattery will get you nowhere.”

—

His mother greets him with a hug, wrinkled and cold hands holding him, she glances over his shoulder to Satoru, whose eyes are darting around the old hallway, his judging eyes hidden behind those tinted black lenses. “Is this the special boy you told me about?”

“Oh, you called me special, Suguru?” Satoru teasingly asks with a laugh to his words.

Suguru rolls his eyes at the boy’s growing ego, somebody needs to pop it one day. “I didn’t say that. And yes, mom, this is Gojō Satoru, one of my classmates,” he says, drawing out the last word, Satoru clicks his tongue. “Satoru, this is my mom.”

Suguru watches the two share a greeting, forced, and awkward kindness neither of them share. The walk to his bedroom is short, Satoru is quick to force his way inside to inspect the room he will be staying in for the next few weeks. He predicts Satoru’s next words correctly, like always, saying, ‘What a small room,’ and then, ‘How interesting.’ Asshole. What makes it annoying is how Satoru isn’t trying to be rude, this is just how he speaks, which is somehow more irritating.

Satoru is looking through his leftover collection of CDs he had forgotten to pack the last time he was here, he had already brought all of his favourite ones with him. Satoru picks out an album, one he is quick to recognise as the one his childhood got for him last christmas, ‘My Sweet Darlin’’ by Hitomi Yaida plays on his old stereo, your favourite song of hers. Satoru mentions this is his favourite single by her, Suguru blinks, he doesn’t mention you, nor the coincidence.

“Suguru!”

Ah, speaking of the devil, he thinks as he hears you before he sees you, the familiar sound of your footsteps running down the hall, your voice, and the moment he turns around you wrap your arms around him.

“Oh, hi, didn’t expect you to get here so quick,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer for a second, the scent of your shampoo and perfume is so sweet like coconuts.

“That’s what I should be saying, you know how those trains are always delayed,” you happily reply, saying something about how it’s been a while and that you missed him.

Satoru can’t keep his eyes off of you, his gaze locked on your figure, then he looks to Suguru, and smirks, mouthing some words, which widens Suguru’s eyes as he subtly shakes his head.

“I brought over some leftover onigiri I made earlier… Oh, wait, are you and your friend not done packing yet? I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,” you say, looking over to Satoru who acknowledges your attention with a simple wave and signature smile in which you return.

“Okay, we’ll be down in a minute,” Suguru says to you as you nod, making your way out the door to the kitchen downstairs.

“Hey, you’ve never mentioned a girlfriend before… She is kinda hot, she might be the Waka Inoue type in a few years. You’re one lucky guy,” Satoru says letting out a shameless whistle.

“She is my childhood friend,” Suguru hisses once he makes sure you are out of sight. “Don’t say things like that about her.”

“What? It was a compliment. I always say things like this to you and you never—” Satoru abruptly stops, and Suguru can tell his eyes are gleaming behind those stupid sunglasses of his, he teasingly grins, pearly white flashing at him. “Oh. I get it. It’s ‘cause she is like your girl, but isn’t your girl, right?” His girl. Not his girl.

Suguru scoffs at the assumption, denying it. “No… Satoru, sometimes normal people find talk like that gross.”

“Okay then… I am so sorry,” he slowly replies, voice void of understanding, obviously not knowing why people may be turned off hearing words like that. His words go in and out through the other ear, Satoru only likes to hear what he wants to hear. “But you think she’s hot, like, it’s not just me, right?”

Suguru merely shrugs his shoulders with a sigh, dismissing Satoru. He agrees, saying you are pretty and changes the subject to something Satoru likes. To digimon and those pokémon cards he’s been collecting.

(You made tuna onigiri, his favourite, and karashi mentaiko onigiri, with a glass of iced genmaicha, exactly what is needed on a day like this.)

—

You are eighteen when you are whisked away from this little dull village to the lively city of Tokyo. To a bigger world where the lights never turn off. For a long time you’ve imagined this moment, and now that your wish has come true, you can’t find yourself smiling like you do in your fantasies. The midnight train ride is a long one, it’s silent and cold, too. The scenery passes you by, too fast and too dark to see.

Satoru is here with you. Sitting in the blue seat in front of you, his signature sunglasses rest low on the bridge of his nose. Eyes so void of emotion. Similar to when winter arrives and frosts over the ocean. A sheet of ice, you cannot see nothing, but your own reflection. Full of discomfort, chilling, you hate the way your lonesome reflection is hazed and muddled when he looks at you. You don’t want to see it, so you turn away.

“You good over there?”

“Yeah, I am just getting tired. It’s a little late,” you reply and before you get the chance to ask if he’s alright (which would be an understatement; his lifeless eyes and the dark circles that rest underneath are quite telling, almost as if he hasn’t slept in a few days), he quietly laughs as he leans his head against the cold window, saying he’s a little tired, too.

This Satoru resembles nothing of the boy you met during summer back then. That boyish smile of his feels lacks warmth; those pretty blue eyes of his are fully crystallised, reminding you of when snow heavily begins to fall. Summer is over, your final summer of youth comes to an end, the last page scribbled of black swirls.

Satoru sends you a sleepy smile when he catches your eyes glancing at him from time to time, you force a thin smile back. “This is exciting, huh? It’s like you’re a dumb kid running away from home, following some random guy to Tokyo. Imagine if you were following a murderer home.”

You awkwardly laugh at Satoru’s joke, his sense of humour is sometimes different from what you are used to, Suguru would say this is just how Satoru is, and not to take his words too seriously. You assume it’s a city people thing. “Wow, how romantic, or should I be concerned right now?”

“Perhaps, it is a little bit of both. Scared of me yet?”

“Maybe a little bit now,” you jokingly reply.

Underneath his playful tone and airy laugh, bitterness lies beneath, and you can understand it all too well. When Satoru catches your lurking eyes, he pushes up his frames, shielding those eyes of his from you, black lens blocking you out. You are tired, so tired, yet sleep doesn’t consume you the entire ride there.

—

The entire sky is painted bright blue, thin white clouds floating above, instantly reminding him of Satoru. The sky twinkles deeply in his eyes, the sun captured within, Suguru is almost envious at how Satoru easily consumes the world, how the world kisses him.

You and Suguru drag Satoru out of the house to show him your secret spot in this little seaside town. You are carrying a homemade kite that you’ve been working on the past few days, made up of scrap fabric from your old bed sheet. Suguru and Satoru follow behind you, carrying a bag of snacks and cold drinks from the little shop on the main street.

Walking up north, the wind carries the sand across their exposed ankles, behind an area seemingly of huge rocks is an area on the beach where people don’t come to (you and Suguru just haven’t seen anyone here throughout the years).

You carefully lay your kite down on the sand, holding the handle tightly in your hands, your skirt flutters in the wind as you run.

The two of them sit on a long beach towel, picking at the carefully assorted fruits, Satoru only eats the strawberries before eating the other fruits. Satoru glances over his shoulder to you, nudging Suguru, as he tilts his head in your direction.

“Have you ever fucked her?” Satoru is blunt, he asks this with a knowing grin to his smug face. “Like, nobody could blame you if you dreamt about it before.”

“You’re an idiot, Satoru,” he scoffs, his words or actions aren’t harsh, he is almost smiling. How he thinks of you is no one’s business, but his own, what he does with you is only for you to know, and of course, Satoru will only think of it as sex, like all teenage boys do. Suguru can’t help, but roll his eyes. He realises that maybe Satoru has never liked someone before, like like.

“So you have…?”

“I never said that.”

“Didn’t deny it either.”

Satoru is someone who is loved by others, thousands have waited for his birth for many years. Satoru has the world beneath his feet — the elders, and his clan worship the very ground he walks on. He has marriage candidates, girls younger and older than him selected to become his wife, which Satoru always complains about. It’s sad, very sad, and he can’t help but feel bad for his best friend.

Everyone loves Gojō Satoru, but nobody really likes him. Suguru wonders if he’s the only person that will ever know Satoru, who he is, and what lies in his heart.

Your handmade kite drifts in the air, slowly coming down, until Satoru begins to chase you, you run and run, the kite flying high right behind you.

—

Satoru watches, watches, and watches — he has always been good at that. He sees everything, things nobody will ever see, light shimmering in the darkest cracks, specs of crushed stars scattering this world, six eyes allow him to, he is Gojō Satoru, afterall.

His focus is on Suguru and by extension, you. Your neighbours down the street, the Yamato’s, had given the three of you an extra watermelon they had grown. Suguru had chopped it open, cutting half of it into thick slices. It’s so sweet, refreshing on this hot day, the three of you are sitting in Suguru’s backyard, drinking in the summer heat and the cool breeze that drifts by every few minutes.

You offer Suguru a bite from the slice of watermelon you had already bitten. Suguru doesn’t like to share food – something about sharing germs and what-not – however, Suguru opens his mouth, taking a huge bite causing you to whine, yelling about how you hate it when he does that. You hit his shoulder and he playfully grins at you, your little star pendant swaying around your neck. He studies this side of Suguru he hasn’t seen before.

Watermelon juice runs down your hand, dripping onto your exposed thigh, you don’t wipe it away, not noticing it as you continue to talk and Satoru grabs another slice off of the plate to eat. He picks all of the black and white seeds out with his fingers before eating.

“Yup, but Tomoko-san absolutely loves pretty boys, so she will probably try to set you up for marriage with one of her daughters—they’re like eleven now,” you say, “right, Suguru? She is sweet but loves to chat a lot.”

Tomoko-san. Off the main street. White roof. Free fruits and drinks. Satoru has no idea what you are talking about or referring to, but he hums every time you pause for a second in wonder if he is listening, and he lets you know he is.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. Satoru doesn’t shut up.”

“Hey, don’t say that about him,” you scold him in a friendly manner, before turning your head to Satoru, flashing him a sweet smile, lips glossy from the watermelon juice. “If she bothers you, all you need to do is remind her that Suguru is at the age where he may need a suitor.”

“Ooh, throwing him under the bus, I like that.”

“I don’t. I’ll kill you if you do,” Suguru grumbles, and Satoru immediately takes his words as a challenge. Satoru has never once backed down from a challenge.

“How could you? You can’t even beat me during sparring, Suguru.”

“Should we find out then?” Suguru bites back like he always does, he’s never liked to be challenged.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

“Hey! No fighting, it’s a nice day out, and I am trying to relax,” you speak up loudly between them, your hand gripping onto Suguru’s wrist.

“It’s actually called sparring,” Satoru spits out, and you roll your eyes.

Suguru explains this is just how they are, they spar together almost everyday during training, it’s something fun they like to do, especially when they are given permission to use their cursed techniques (which is rarely ever now after the damage they created during their first year).

You say, “I know that, but I don’t want to see two guys fight, oh, sorry, spar, nobody wants to see that.”

Suguru loosens his wrist from your grip, lightly holding onto your hand, stroking it with his thumb as he looks at you, telling you no spar would be taking place, they were only fooling around. Suguru looks a little different around you.

He wonders if Suguru loves you. Like the way humans love one another. He can tell that his best friend feels something towards you — something that isn’t friendly in the way Suguru treats him, it is in a way that’s foreign to him, perhaps, it’s because you two are childhood friends. Satoru has never had a childhood friend, so he wouldn’t know what it feels like. This side of Suguru is unfamiliar, overly gentle, touches that linger and tighten before letting go, something deeply blurred and entangled between the two of you. You are dangerously blurred within those violet eyes. Suguru has you, he probably has since so long ago, and you have him, and maybe that is a fact you don’t know.

Satoru sprinkles a bit of salt onto his watermelon slice, copying what he had seen you and Suguru do earlier. He immediately bites into it, the salty taste makes him grimace, spitting it out onto the freshly cut grass to which you both loudly laugh at. Suguru says he didn’t wait long enough, so he tries again, waiting a few minutes this time, the juice explodes into his mouth, overflowing with sweetness and he becomes addicted.

—

During the summer of your third year, you almost take all of your belongings and run to Tokyo. Almost. Yet you don’t, staying curled up on your bed in silence, swallowing your pain and hatred, your screams go unheard in the deep ocean. Forever muffled. The cicadas buzz loudly tonight, too loudly, the town is always so quiet during the night.

Tonight, Suguru visits you alone, without a call or any heads up. It’s midnight, you heard his school has a curfew, you wonder if he’ll get in trouble once he returns (“—and did you know Suguru is a delinquent? He makes the elders' heads hurt all the time, it’s true, he is no better than me,” Satoru had whispered into your ear last summer, a little secret treat for you, he said. You guess Satoru was telling the truth about that), you wonder why he visited so unexpectedly.

He invites himself in like this is his own bedroom, like he’s lived here for years, and technically he has. There’s something so different about him today, something sad in his slow movements, and shadow. There always has been. He’s always been wrapped in an air of melancholy, but his sadness tonight is different. Different in a way you think you’ll never know, in a way you could never understand, your heart burns, you swallow.

“Why are you here? You didn’t call,” you whisper in hopes your voice doesn’t slip through the cracks and awaken your parents. You walk over to your single size mattress, sitting down as Suguru joins you, sitting right next to you, legs touching within the small space.

He shrugs, saying, “I was nearby for a mission, thought I should come and see you.”

You’ve never once not believed in Suguru, he’s never given you a reason to doubt him, except for when he bottles things up and refuses to talk about it, always saying he is fine. You find it hard to believe his words tonight, you don’t think he was nearby, and guilt pricks your heart knowing you feel happy he came to see you. You’ve missed him dearly.

You lean forward, your hands rest on his shoulders, a bitter scent lingers on the collar of his white shirt, one that you have always hated since you were a child, you don’t know when it began to linger on Suguru, or when he began to start. His hair is let down, flowing down and framing his face beautifully, those eyes of his are too dark tonight; not a spec of purple can be seen, devoid of the deep violet you’ve fallen for all those years ago.

Suguru doesn’t say or do anything, so you tilt your head up, an attempt to capture his lips, however your lips are met with his thumb, pushing lightly against you. Suguru smiles so softly, so sadly, he looks down at you in a way you don’t recognise. Your heart races, a sharp pain piercing through you, and you place a hand on his wrist, as he runs his thumb against your bottom lip one last time.

“Oh. What’s wrong, Suguru? You don’t want to…?”

He shakes his head, “it’s nothing. I think the summer heat is getting to me.”

“Is it those missions you do? Or training… Has it been too hard for you?”

“No, it’s not that. Sometimes, they are tiring, and I feel like I need to rest, but I can’t.” Suguru does seem more tired than usual tonight, the dark circles underneath them are prominent.

“Oh, should we sleep then?” you offer, not wanting him to stay awake for any longer, especially when he seems so exhausted, on the verge of collapsing. “You need to rest up, Suguru.”

“Yeah, let's go to sleep. I just want to hold you tonight,” he says, you wrap your arm around him once you lay down, he feels a little thinner than usual. There is not enough space on your bed for the two of you, you lay slightly on top of him, and neither of you complain about the cramped space. It’s not the first time he’s slept with you. Suguru really only holds you tonight, calloused and strong hands don’t roam, his fingers don’t dip underneath your shirt or waistband. He holds you tightly, so tightly, it’s too hot, and you find it hard to breathe, yet you don’t complain about it, pushing yourself closer into his embrace. Suguru’s presence has always been so soothing, the way he holds you in his arms makes you feel okay once again, lulling you to sleep as your worries vanish back into the sea, the sharks can’t reach you from here.

You wake to an empty bed, his side has been cold for a long time. You don’t see or hear from Suguru for the rest of summer. You receive a postcard or souvenir in the mail like you usually do every few weeks. Mid-august, humidity high, and you can hardly breathe in the heat, and you hear about the murder of the Getō family. Mr. and Mrs. Getō were murdered in their living room during the silent night. Their son, Getō Suguru has gone missing. Whispers seep through the cracks of the concrete saying he is the main suspect — the parents were murdered by their own son. Getō Suguru, your precious childhood friend, killed his own parents. You choke on the summer air and throw up.

None of your messages or calls go through. You are met with the same automated reply. Suguru is gone, and Satoru never replies to you.

Winter seems to come early this year.

—

A knock on your window wakes you up in the middle of the night, the sound of pebbles gently hitting against the screen, and you frown as you slowly force yourself up. You already know who the culprits are.

You open it as quietly as you can to not wake your parents, as you glare at them. Suguru smiles at you sheepishly. “We can’t end the summer without fireworks,” he says, Satoru stands behind him widely grinning, holding up his hands to reveal senko hanabi sparklers.

And you find it hard to stay mad, you weren’t mad in the first place, just annoyed that you were woken up in the middle of the night. You break out into a smile, telling them to wait for you as you change into some clothes.

Sneaking past your parents’ bedroom and out of the house is easy, you’ve done it many times in the past, tonight is no different.

“Why did you wake me up to light fireworks? It’s not the end of summer yet,” you yawn into your hand and Satoru quietly laughs, his hand reaches over to touch your hair.

“It is with you,” Satoru replies, “you’ve got bedhead.”

“Oh. You guys are going back soon, I forgot about that,” you try not to sound sad while saying this, saying goodbye to Suguru every time he visits always leaves you feeling blue. “And it’s because you two woke me up!” you exclaim, swatting his hand away.

“Geez, who sleeps during the summer? You’re supposed to be staying up late and having fun.”

“I do…”

“Need your beauty sleep, huh, princess?”

“Maybe you should try it sometime, Satoru.”

Suguru tells you he will visit you again soon, that he will send you gifts, you always tell him you don’t need them, but he insists, and you always check the mailbox in anticipation. Every gift, postcard, and handwritten letter is kept safe in a box hidden beneath your bed.

Far past midnight and the village sleeps so silently, walking to your secret spot feels a little slower than usual, a way that is relaxing. A blanket of stars keeping the dark sky company, black with hints of dark blue and purple, similar to Suguru’s eyes; when you look long enough, you will find yourself lost and comforted, a pretty shade of the darkest violet holding you. In the distance the moon is shining brightly, its reflection ripples within the crashing waves.

“Suguru, pass me your lighter,” Satoru says, reaching a hand out as his other hand opens the box of firework sticks. Suguru reaches into his loose pockets, taking out a silver lighter, passing it off into Satoru’s hand.

You grab an incense stick each as Satoru lights them, crouching down on the rock, waiting for the molten ball to form, once it does, the fire flower begins to bloom underneath you. The fireworks illuminate Satoru’s face, the orange sparks dance a heavy tune with the blue stars within his eyes.

You remember Suguru had told you about a special boy in their world — someone so special that the world sits beneath his feet. Everything about Satoru is so ethereal in their world, and you, an outsider, can tell. From the way his eyes shine and how he breathes, Satoru draws everything towards him, but there is something about him that seems so far out of reach.

“I feel like these used to be a lot brighter, prettier, back when we were kids,” you say, watching the fireball slowly making its way to your fingers, the sparks of little shooting stars burning the image into your mind.

Satoru replies, “I think sparklers are still pretty, they’re the beauty of summer.”

You know Suguru is someone special, too, because that special boy is smiling and playing around with him so effortlessly. Suguru is reflected in those ocean eyes of his, shining ever so brightly, brighter than the fireworks and stars above, from his thin brows to his soft lips, everything lovely in between, and like Suguru always does, he chases after the wave and drowns.

(Satoru stands up to spin the sparklers, running wild in the night as he spells out his name and vulgar shapes which makes the three of you burst out laughing. When his back is turned as he looks for the lighter to light some more, Suguru’s shadow engulfs your shadow whole, he presses a swift kiss to your lips, and Satoru notices, he always does, he can see everything, the sparklers in Suguru’s hands burn out without any of you noticing, the fire has long burnt out. Satoru never noticed the remains of ashes piled up below.)

You wish this summer would never end.

However, like all things do, it ends for you the next day when the sun peeks through the horizon, they are on the train back to Tokyo.

—

You are eighteen left alone in Tokyo. Satoru barely calls you, his visits are even rarer, it’s been over two weeks since he had last shown up. He is busy, he always says this, and you believe him.

You are eighteen, trying your best to survive in the big city of Tokyo, the roads are busy, full, too wide, you find yourself getting lost in the crowd. Your hands are becoming colder, summer is not coming around, nerves bite away at the remains of your broken heart, unable to find the missing piece. You take a deep breath, telling yourself you are okay, that you’ve got this, you are used to surviving on your own.

Everything will be okay, you repeat again and again.

—

That day and the following ones were a blur; they still are and Satoru can barely recall it, memories play out hazy and tinted dark gray, almost the darkest shade of black.

(Explain yourself… Suguru!)

Even with the words spilling from Suguru’s mouth, Satoru finds it hard to believe in them. To believe in Suguru’s cruelty. Suguru is warmer than everyone he has ever met; his soul shines brighter than everyone he has ever known.

(Are you the strongest because you’re Gojō Satoru?)

Satoru doesn’t understand how it started, when it all started, but he does know. It started in Okinawa, right when they flew back to Tokyo, once they entered past the bright red torii gates, a blade slashed through his chest.

How could Suguru not spare his own parents? He spared you. His parents were sweet, always smiling, dull eyes, warm food, loving—they were (were they?). They treated them nicely when Satoru visited two summers ago, they asked him about school and cooked warm meals to eat, everything was so unfamiliar and foreign, like things he has seen on television.

(Or are you Gojō Satoru because you’re the strongest?)

How could Suguru leave him behind like that? A blade twisted through his heart, a deep scar remains on his chest, a reminder of the day and ones to follow.

And you. The smile of summer morphs into one belonging to a girl much younger than you, to Suguru, who smiles ever so tenderly under the shining sun.

(If you want to kill me, kill me. There’s meaning in that too.)

There is no meaning in any of that. Those words trapped within his throat, unable to spill to a boy who refuses to listen.

Satoru needs to see you again. He needs to see you now.

—

“How is life in Tokyo?” Satoru asks you as he sits across from you at the table of a new café. The strawberry shortcake in front of him is already half-eaten, and the waitress comes over to deliver the strawberry parfait he had ordered a few minutes ago.

“Tokyo… It's really different. You said to come with you to Tokyo and then you ditched me,” you jokingly reply, before taking a sip of your matcha latte. You can understand why it is so popular, everything is made up of the best quality here, and only the best.

“Mhm, bet it’s better than that tiny village. It is, huh?”

You nod in agreement, it is better, even though you can’t help but feel anxious, like a shark is chasing after you and only you in the deepest pit of the ocean. “I decided to try and become a teacher…” you say. What you really wanted to do was become a counsellor or something similar for children, but you aren’t so sure if you would be good at it, if your fragile heart would be enough.

“We are so similar,” you look up when he says this, he is smiling at you as he leans his head on his palm. “I’m gonna become a teacher too. For people like me, though.”

A teacher. Satoru wants to become a teacher — he will become one, a confirmed future. You never knew he was interested in something like that, however, you know you don’t know Satoru well enough to judge. “We are. It must be the work of fate,” you say.

“That’s right, it’s the work of a young god,” he goes along with your little joke, shivers run down you, you drink your now cooled latte. You should’ve finished drinking it while it was still hot.

Satoru promises he will see you again soon, you smile, holding onto his empty promise.

—

Empty promises always remain empty. You don’t hold it against Satoru, that is just how he is. He still calls you from time to time, and you find yourself becoming too busy, drowning into your studies.

—

The next time you see Satoru is months later when he is sitting outside your doorstep despite knowing the passcode, he has the original copy of the key, too. He’s drenched from the rain, his white hair sticking to face, hidden eyes. His hair has grown out a bit over the months, messy and unkempt.

“Satoru, you should’ve let yourself inside…” you quietly say as you unlock the door, Satoru stands up, towering over you, yet he seems smaller than usual today. He only replies that he was waiting for you to come home.

You ask him if he’s hungry, you have leftover miso soup from this morning, and some ingredients to make chicken katsu (you don’t mention that you had eaten with a new co-worker earlier). You suggest he takes a hot shower so he doesn’t get sick, he remarks saying he has never fallen ill before, making his way into the bathroom.

Your mattress is much bigger than you are used to, a queen size bed, there’s so much space, yet Satoru is pressed up behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he keeps you close. You assume Satoru will be sleeping here tonight. It’s been a long time since you last slept beside someone, you remember the night so distinctly, as if it was yesterday.

And Satoru holds you so, so, so gently, it’s rather uncharacteristic of him, not like the Satoru you know. So tenderly if you closed your eyes an image of a face you haven’t forgotten would be there and you blink away the tears that want to form within your eyes. You think, his hands are too light, you can barely feel the callouses and constellations of little scars. His hand trails up your thin shirt, rubbing light circles against your skin, on your waist and beneath your breasts. Satoru holds you in a way that feels wrong, in a way you both know he shouldn’t — in a way he wouldn’t if he were here. However, he doesn’t stop, and you don’t stop him.

You turn over, meeting his eyes. The little stars in his eyes are crying to be seen. You lift a hand to his cheek, gently brushing the strand of hair that sits too close to his eyes, and Satoru only watches you silently. It remains like this for a moment, you carefully holding his face, warm and pink from the hot water that drenched his skin, his hand wrapped around you, travelling up and down your back, tracing little circles as he feels your soft skin against his hand.

“I used to wish to know his lips,” he whispers ever so quietly, those vacant eyes of his glimmering in the darkness of your bedroom as he flickers from your lips to your eyes. “The taste of them, the feeling… Sometimes, I still do,” he sounds a little sad as he says this, but he’s smiling, and you can’t help but smile sadly, too.

Satoru wants to kiss you, too. You can feel it in the way he looks at you, you can feel it in the prickling air. You expect Satoru to kiss you first, to close the distance between you, and he does, leaning in first, his lips are on yours, slowly moving against yours.

You were fifteen when Suguru had stolen a bottle of your mother’s favourite whiskey and the two of you had spent the afternoon in his room, door locked, the liquid burning your mouth and throat, cheeks flushed red, Suguru’s intense gaze slowly consuming you. He asked you if you ever kissed someone before, a question you both know the answer to, and you get annoyed thinking he is teasing you. He is quick to reassure you that isn’t the case. Maybe it’s the liquor running in your veins, because he leans in to kiss you, a small peck before he pulls back, a moment of awkward silence lasting only a few seconds, before he kisses you again. One with less hesitation.

You remember the taste, something you don’t like, to this day you still don’t, always avoiding whiskey, but you loved the feeling of Suguru’s lips on yours. Shy and giggly, teeth grazing, nose bumping. Trying to search for a proper pace, clammy hands awkwardly trying to find a place to settle.

Kissing Satoru doesn’t feel like that. He kisses you so slowly, deeply, you feel every movement and it tingles through your body and soul. Everything fades around you, all you can think and feel is his lips. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you softly gasp, pulling away for air, breathing heavily.

“Are you scared?” Satoru asks once you pull away from him, his breathing matches yours, his breath fans your face, a sweet scent lingers in the air. Like strawberry candies, sugary sweet, artificially sweet, Satoru’s favourite.

“No,” you breathlessly reply.

He chuckles, teasing you as he says, “your heart is beating really fast, though.”

“I-I know that…” you murmur, feeling shy and embarrassed, as if he doesn’t know you can feel how hard your heart is beating, how fast it races in this moment. It’s your heart, you know her better than anyone in the world.

“Mine is beating, too, princess,” he says, before flipping the two of you over, giving you no time to reply, you are caged between him, his pure white hair lightly brushing against your face. Lust fogging over his eyes as stares down at you, gray and blue. Matching everything around you. “Let’s take our time tonight, yeah?” Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him down, linking your legs around his thin waist.

Lonely fingers woven together, he holds you so close, hearts intertwined, and kisses so intimately and intensely, you feel so wanted and loved by this boy who is known as a god in a world you do not know. A world you will never see. Kissing Satoru makes you feel like you’re not alone in the world. This is plenty, it is enough for you, you don’t want anything else, except for this. Only Satoru. You whisper this lie to your yearning heart.

—

“‘Toru? Wait, are you leaving?” you hastily ask while you watch him throw on his white dress shirt, the red lines on his back disappearing, your cheeks warm at the vivid memory, you feel shy, pressing your thighs together. You pull the covers higher as you sit up on the bed.

“Mhm, can’t stay tonight,” you pout at his words, feeling disappointed in him, Satoru knows your next question before you say it. “I’ve got kids at home to watch over,” he simply says, and you huff a small laugh at his joke.

“Huh? Did you take in some pets or something?” Satoru has always been fond of strays, you remember those times when he used to try to call over the wandering cats around your village and attempt to pet them, yet they only ran towards Suguru before disappearing into the bushes. Satoru would always get annoyed and pout about it, saying something about how his Pokémon on his gameboy would never do this to him.

Satoru lowly hums, “yeah, somethin’ like that. They’re so tiny, I think they didn’t eat much until I took them in. I gave them some cash, so hopefully they ordered themselves some fresh sushi or something for dinner… Is ten thousand yen enough for two kids?”

“Oh? Wait, you are serious… Satoru, you are taking care of actual kids? What, why?” you say in disbelief. You haven’t seen Satoru in months and he drops by unannounced, sleeping with you, and then tells you he’s leaving to go take care of some kids at his house. Actual kids, human kids.

The information slowly processes through your brain, you have so many questions on the tip of your tongue that you know if they spill, Satoru would never answer them. You decide to swallow them down.

“It was a request. A last one. I felt like I should grant it since nobody else can.” Nobody else but me, his unsaid thoughts are loud. So loud, your heart shakes, you slowly swallow.

Satoru turns around to look at you as he buttons the last button on his shirt and leans down to plant a wet kiss on your cheek which makes you scrunch up your face. “Maybe you can meet ‘em one day, you said you’re good with kids, right?”

You slowly nod your head, not really sure what to say, even by your lack of response, Satoru smiles. “Great. They’re still so shy, so one day. Soon,” he says, softly kissing your lips before he leaves, the feeling feels so faint.

Your bedroom door clicks with a shut. Even with you, his back still seems so lonely, as if the weight of the world sits on his shoulders.

Down the hall, you can’t hear his footsteps, everything about Satoru acts light. His footsteps. His breathing. Everything except his heavy presence, that is how you know he is there. Until he isn’t, and you hear the echo of a faint click of your front door being shut. Silence consumes the empty home and you’re left to sleep alone once again.

—

Turning twenty didn’t change anything. Neither did turning twenty-four, nor twenty-five. If anything, sometimes you feel more lost now than you did at eighteen, you thought you knew the world at sixteen. You are grown, yet sometimes it feels as if your physical appearance is the only thing about you that has changed.

It took a few years, but now you are used to the bright lights that never go out and the busy streets with crowds that never split. You love Tokyo, and all of the new things you have never experienced or seen before, you’ve grown used to living here. However, every once in a while, a memory of that village hits you so hard and the cracks in your heart begin to widen once again, just when you were able to put it back together again. A type of sadness that always lingers within you, settling behind your ribs, deeply in a place you could ever reach, and all you can go is try to pretend it isn’t there. Even in the middle of this city, sometimes you swear the scent of the ocean passes you by, you always remember Suguru in those moments, and shead a few tears.

You feel Satoru’s presence before you hear or see him, you hate it when he randomly appears in your apartment like this, you always tell him to use the front door like a normal person.

“Well, don’t you look so pretty today.” You smile when you hear this as he pulls you into a hug and you feel his hand running through your hair, causing you to glance up in confusion. “Why is your hair shining? Hmm, is this glitter?” he asks, his index finger in between both of you as a little sparkle shines against it, causing you to deeply inhale.

“One of the kids was playing around with glitter and got it in my hair, spent all night washing it out,” you explain, feeling frustrated all over again. “Is there still a lot? I thought I got all of it out…”

“There’s still some left.”

“What, where?” you ask, automatically lifting your hand to your hair, patting around for a feel for tiny pieces of plastic. “Help me, Satoru,” you plead, seeing him just stand there watching you.

Satoru leans down, his face right in front of yours as he grins, “they’re in your eyes, princess,” he whispers, pressing a chaste kiss to your eyelid. You huff at his words, biting down on your growing smile, unable to stop the blush rushing to your cheeks.

You lightly shove him away from you, asking, “why are you here?”

“I can’t come and see you without a reason?”

“Really, tell me why,” you insist on him coming over for a reason, you know he did.

“I want to go on a little trip with you,” he admits.

“I have work on Monday,” you reply, jabbing your finger into his toned chest, “and you do, too. No slacking off.”

“I know, I know. That was only once—”

“More than once,” you correct.

“Yes… more than once, you’re right, but it’s only for day,” he says, taking your hand in his. “Just for one night, so come with me?”

And you agree, the two of you already knew your answer from the very beginning, an answer destined from the beginning.

He takes you to Yokohama, only an hour away, he rents a free room in the hotel with the best view of the city, and takes you out to eat your favourite foods. By evening, he’s dragging you along, you try to keep up with his long strides, mentally cursing him and his long legs.

He takes you all the way to the pier, an overlook of the small beach, nothing compared to the one you grew up in. It smells of seaweed, and you can see across the water here, the sun slowly sets in the distance, an orange and red sky reflected in the water, your eyes feel heavy the more you sink into the view. Satoru never lets go of your hand, his steady hand holds yours firmly.

The younger you could never imagine herself in your position. Into the deep city, older with an ordinary job, watching a pretty sunset at an average beach. A younger you could never imagine herself living a life without Suguru in it. Many things have changed. Some things remain the same. Your feelings have never changed. The ocean always stays the same, it always will, and there’s a comforting feeling in knowing this.

You quietly sigh, feeling the need for a cigarette. His lucky cigarette. You long for the familiar bitter smell that you once used to hate.

Satoru only stares at the crashing waves. Unable to tear his eyes away from it; those eyes of his have always belonged to the sea. To the blue sky. To their youth. And there is no doubt that he’s thinking of Suguru right now. You know this because whenever you are by the sea, you can’t help, but think of him, too.

—

From a young age, Suguru comes to realise he is a small fish in a big pond. The world around him is much bigger than the cage he swims in. He grows more insecure when he comes to realise his family is different from others; that he is different from others.

He has always been sensitive to his surroundings. Sensitive to his mother’s silent presence and wishes, to every action and expression his father made and everything around him. For a long time he believed this village was haunted, that one day ghosts emerged from the sea and haunted him and the townsfolk. After all, he swore he was always being watched, every one of his actions was being judged and digested. And when he told his father that, his father laughed and said he didn’t think Suguru would believe his words for so long. He was only trying to scare him.

However, this feeling never goes away. The black shadow beneath his bed greets him every night with a snicker, hiding beneath the blanket causes the laughter to become louder, louder, until it screeches, like the sound of a nail running across a chalkboard piercing his ears, refusing to become muffled as he covers his head with his old pillow.

He is eleven when he sneaks out of his house at midnight, he finds it hard to breathe in there, desperately needing fresh air, and he meets you wandering along the empty dirt road. All alone. He knows of you, you are from the class next door, he has seen you walking in the hallway a few times. Apparently, you don’t get along with your classmates, rumours travel fast in this village through hushed whispers and mocking snickers, the stars this time are about your mother and father, and caught up in between the clashing meteors is you. In a way, you are similar to him, your eyes have a sadness to them that no child should have, however your smile is soft and warm, and Suguru can’t help, but feel drawn to you.

You bring him to the sea; walking across the shoreline to a little corner behind an area hidden by a bunch of huge rocks that you call your secret spot. You tell him it belongs to him now, too. A secret corner in this little big world only for the two of you. There’s a white fin he can see in the distance, the shark doesn’t make its way closer to shore. Suguru looks over to you, you’re looking across the vast sea so yearningly, the stars are twinkling in your eyes.

(He wishes he asked what you were looking at so beautifully.)

Suguru wishes he could go home, but he can’t, unable to run to the little safety corner at the end of the world. Not now. Everything around him is burning blue, he’s drowning himself in the screams and curses of hundreds of strangers, his hands are dripping crimson red. Everything is blue. Bright blue like the summer sky and glistening sea. Blue eyes. White hair. Carefree smile. Little white sundress and your innocent laughter muffled between the haunting cries. Splattered blood. Drifting white headband. A celebration for the dead. A cage for the living. The sound of clapping echoes within the crackling. It snaps, then pops.

Suguru can’t go home. Nowhere is home. Everything around him is burning blue. So blue, and he’s being consumed by the fire. He accepts this as his fate, he has to.

—

“Hm? Not in the water today?”

Sprawled out like a starfish, Suguru lays on the sand, where the water meets the sand, eyes closed and peaceful.

When there’s no reply, Satoru pouts, plopping down to lay beside him. He calls out his name, wanting attention, awaiting a response as he stares at him. Suguru doesn’t turn his head to meet his eyes, he just lays there, so listless, and Satoru softly sighs, a small smile gracing his face despite feeling a little annoyed. He closes his eyes, the sound of ocean waves crashing, cicadas calling out from the high branches in the distance and the seagulls' low mews create a summer melody.

“I’m listening to the waves,” he says, and Satoru smiles in amusement.

“From here?”

Suguru hums a reply and Satoru parrots it. Listening to the waves. How stupidly poetic, he thinks to himself, chuckling at how cute and childish Suguru can be. A hidden side of Suguru that is so endearing as it is entertaining.

The way the waves crash onto the shore — rather gently, reaching the brim of his jeans and Satoru hates it. He doesn’t understand how Suguru is fine with the water soaking his clothes and the sand that sticks onto their skin and hair. The water is strangely warm as well, adding to his annoyance.

“Do you have any dreams, Satoru?”

“What’s yours?” he asks.

“I asked first,” he knows Suguru is rolling his eyes, however, Suguru is kind enough to not push, he says, “I think one of my dreams came true already. I wanted to get out of here for a long time.”

One of his dreams. What are his other dreams? What does he dream of? Yet, instead of all the thoughts that shoot through his brain, Satoru finds himself asking about you. “What about her?”

Are you one of Suguru’s dreams? He needs to know.

“I am waiting for her in Tokyo,” Suguru says this in a way that Satoru is familiar with. Too familiar. Suguru calls out his name like this. “Once I graduate and make money from these missions, I will take her out of this place and bring her home.”

Satoru thought Suguru liked this place since he keeps coming back, maybe it is only to see you, and his parents. Maybe in this seaside village, Suguru only likes it here, this little part of the beach where nobody goes. It’s not so bad here, just a little lame, and very boring, but Satoru wouldn’t mind staying here with Suguru. And you, much to his surprise.

“I think she may wait for you for a long time. I took a peek at your bank account and—”

“Hey, why did you look at that?! Don’t snoop through other peoples’ belongings, has nobody taught you that? You are jinxing it for me.”

Satoru repeats his words in a mocking tone, earning a sharp elbow to his rib, a loud and painful groan escapes his throat.

“I was just joking! Really, I am!”

In a few days, they will fly to Okinawa. A pretty island that Satoru hasn’t seen before and he doesn’t know the exact details yet, Yaga hasn’t said anything, but he knows the mission will be one with Suguru. As expected, the two strongest sorcerers of this generation, it comes to no one’s surprise. It’s hours away from this place, hours away from Tokyo, yet the ocean is vast, reaching far out into the world, connecting right back to where you are.

Right back to the place Suguru had once called home.

#꩜— interstellar communications #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader

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scoonsaliciousupdates · 21 hours

Text

10.2 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Bucky invading privacy and getting the wrong idea, then not letting Major get a word in edgewise.

Word Count: 1.4k

Previously On...: You thought the envelope may have come from Rand, but after talking to him, you're pretty sure he didn't send it.

A/N: Sorry for the delay-- was running errands and thought I would be back in time, but then I got held up at a train crossing :P

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

He was about fifteen minutes early to pick up Major, but if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t wait to see her again. He missed her every second he wasn’t near her, talking to her, holding her, just being in her presence. He was down bad for the girl, that was for sure, and he was going to take every extra minute he could get with her.

Opening the main door, he walked into the lobby and waved to Zadie as she was having a group of teenagers sign a waiver before arranging to have them go to a room.

“Hey, Sergeant Barnes!” she called out to him. “Major’s back in her office if you wanted to go surprise her. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the interruption.” Zadie waggled her eyebrows at the implication, and Bucky stifled a laugh as he made his way back toward the door she’d pointed to.

The door to Major’s office was partially closed, and Bucky knocked, the force of it pushing the door open to reveal the empty office. Bucky stepped inside and, seeing her purse on the edge of her desk, assumed she must have stepped out to use the restroom; he was fifteen minutes early in coming to pick her up, after all. She would have thought she had time.

He used the opportunity to take in her space, the sophisticated office furniture colored in deep, earthy tones that gave Bucky a feeling of calm, similar to what he felt in her presence. He admired some framed medals on the wall from her time in the military, as well as some certificates of accomplishment, and he was pleased to see the orchid he’d bought her resting in a place of pride by the window.

He ran his fingers over the fuchsia petals, smiling to himself before turning toward her desk.

That was when he saw it. The envelope that had Major so worked up earlier in the day, her name and The WarZone’s Midtown address written in blocky, all caps. He took a step toward it, hand outstretched, but then pulled himself back. No, he thought. He wasn’t going to go through her private work documents. It was none of his business, really.

But… she had been so upset earlier. Maybe there was something he could do to help. He could just take a quick peak; that would totally be fine. He tilted the envelope and a stack of documents and photos came pouring out onto Major’s desk. At first, he couldn’t make sense of what he was looking at, as if the input from his eyes wasn’t making its way to his brain.

Every piece of paper that had come out of the envelope was about… him. He found himself flipping through the pages, barely allowing the contents to register. They were all photos of him, back when he was still the Asset, committing horrendous crimes. Each document was a report of something he’d done, a person he’d killed. As he flipped through them, his stomach fell through the floor, shame heating his face. Why did she have these? How did she get them?

Had she been looking into him? When she had told him, during their first date, that she would wait for him to tell her about his past when he was ready, had that all been a lie? But why? What would she have to gain from it?

He heard footsteps approaching and in seconds, Major was walking through the door of her office.

“Hey, you!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up in happiness when she saw him standing there. “You’re early! I hope you weren’t waiting too long on me. Just wanted to freshen my face before dinner tonight.” She walked around to where he was standing and draped her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him, but Bucky stood still, only turning his face from hers.

She pulled away from him, her expression concerned. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”

Without thought, his eyes darted to where the documents and photos lay spread haphazardly across her desk. He watched her gaze turn to follow his line of sight, and he saw her posture seem to deflate.

“Oh,” she breathed out. “Oh, Bucky, honey– I really didn’t want you to see those.”

“I’m sure,” he spat, and was rewarded when she pulled back from him in surprise. “Wouldn’t do you any good if I knew you were digging into my past, would it? Much better to keep me in the dark about it, right?”

“Bucky, what–” she began, but he interrupted her:

“Was all that talk about wanting to wait until I was comfortable with telling you about my past just a lie? Were you so goddamn curious, you couldn’t even wait to find all the gory details for yourself? You wanna know how many people I killed that didn’t make it into those files, because I promise you, sugar, there’s a hell of a lot. You want to know about the time Hydra sent me to kill an ambassador, told me to leave no witnesses, and I took out his wife and his two kids, too? ‘Cause they couldn’t have been more than ten years old. That kind of thing get you off, doll?”

She took a further step back from him, a look of disgust and confusion on her face, and Bucky suddenly didn’t want to deal with it. “You know what?” he said, stepping around her and walking to the door, “Fuck this.” He stormed out of her office and as he stomped through the lobby, he could hear Major calling after him, but he was beyond caring at this point.

He slammed through the front doors of The WarZone and back onto the street. Hopping onto his bike, he threw on his helmet and kicked it into gear, speeding away from Major and his past as fast as he could.

He reached upstate in record time; he was fortunate he hadn’t gotten pulled over for speeding. He certainly wouldn’t have taken that very well. He stopped at an intersection– one direction would take him back to the Compound, but the other would lead him into town. He considered his options for a split second before making his decision.

A few minutes later, he was pulling up to the front of a modest, but charming farmhouse. His safe haven for when life at the Compound got to be too much for him to handle, and he needed some peace and quiet to just decompress and be himself. He definitely needed that right now.

Bucky walked up the front path and onto the well-tended porch before giving the front door a series of strong knocks. Stepping back, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacked and waited, his eyes resting on the porch swing he had helped build two summers ago. He should probably check the chain to make sure it didn’t need to be oiled.

The door opened and there was Lily, a balm to his ragged psyche.

“Jamie,” she breathed, obviously surprised to see him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had dinner plans with Nat’s friend.”

Bucky grunted and poked the toe of his boot at a floor board that stuck out a little higher than its neighbor. “Don’t really want to talk about her right now, Lil,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Lily’s eyes widened as she stepped aside, making room for him to enter. “Yeah, of course. Um, I was just thinking of ordering some takeout. Are you hungry? I could get some pizzas.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said as he followed Lily into her kitchen, “that sounds good.” He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of one of her kitchen chairs. “Let me pay this time, though, okay? Since you’ll have to order an entire second pizza just for me.”

Lily smiled at him softly as she picked up her phone and navigated to the delivery app. “Obviously,” she told him with a hint of teasing in her voice. “Ham and pineapple on one, pepperoni on the other?”

Bucky sat down and stretched his arms over his head. “It’s like you read my mind.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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jakesangel · 2 days

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jake and reader who sh ꣑୧ - requested

tw//mention of sh, jake is healing n comforting reader

it doesn't go unnoticed how you always hide yourself under your clothes to jake, wearing long sleeves, no short even inside the house. he never asked you why nor why you didn't want to take showers w him or going to the beach, tho he wishes you trust him n tell him why. he understood when, one day, he saw your scars as your sleeve ride up a bit as you pass him the tv remote, but even then he didn't say anything. in fact he even forgot why he wanted the remote, only thinking about you n your problems. for the next few days, he wouldn't stop thinking about it, on why you aren't trusting him or what is going on that he doesn't know off.

few days later, he would come over unnoticed wanting to surprise you, and keeping an eye on you, but to his surprise your place was dark n silent. he wouldnt call you, thinking your asleep. so after he removes his outside clothes n his shoes, he'd go straight to your room, without making any noises, wanting to cuddle you n protecing you in your sleep. as jake opens the door, he almost burst out a yell, panick filling his body, seeing you unfazed state on your bed. tho he doesn't know what to do, he'd quickly compose himself to not make it harder to you. he would let shaky breath as he walk towards you, his eyes set on your frame whereas your eyes,full of tears stays on the ceiling avoiding his reaction. you've tried very hard to protect jake from all your problem, yet he is here n you can't bring yourself to move. y/n ? he called suprinsingly softly, i'm gonna take this away okay ?, taking the vile object off of your bed. he would then kneel next to your bed, please look at me, love, n give you a pained smile, tears building, as you turn your head to his side. come on let's get you cleaned up, as he puts his hands behind your shoulder, helping you to get up.

he would help you, water running where it is red, flinching along side w you when it hurts to munch. he will be the one drying you n disinfect everything. n it's only then he would break the tense silence, does it hurt ?, he'd softly ask as he puts some bandage on your arm. he'd nod at your answer, still not knowing how to handle this very serious situation but he would do what he knows the best : to hug you, to engulf you n protect you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world which you are to him. if you stay silent, he will pull you in a hug, keeping you close, wanting nothinf else to hurt you. but if you thank him he would also comfort you w words my angel, i hope you know how munch i love you n how much i wishes you know you can trust me. i know when things gets hard we can't help but go back to what's the easiest way to cope, even if it's bad for us and even if we promised to not do it again. that's just how we are. and i will not force you to stop nor talk about it but please, baby, can you promise me to fight the urges ? you dont have to tell me when you want to do it but can you come to me first ? im sorry if i made you feel like i wont always be there for you but i am. is it alright for me to ask you that ? can you promise ? please ?

notes : hai anon here is ur request ᵎ i hope i wrote it well tho i'm not close to such topic. i hope you are alright n please come to me if needed <3

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee

#enhablr #jake fluff #enha fluff #enhypen fluff #kpop fluff #sim jake fluff #sim jaeyun fluff #sim jake #jake soft hours #sim jaeyun #jake sim #jaeyun fluff #jake x y/n #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake headcanons #enhypen jake fluff #jake sim x y/n

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nalyra-dreaming · 2 days

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I know Rolin's a bit of a troll (affectionate) but do you think it was kinda mean of him to promise Loumand fans a tender, old-timey Hollywood romance in Paris when that doesn't (in my opinion) describe what we got at all?? I mean, Jacob's "80-year rebound" comment was a little savage, but not exactly a lie! I'm partly kidding here, but I do feel a bit bad for genuine Loumand enjoyers who wanted to see them become mutually infatuated and entranced with each other as they did in the book. For my part, I think what they've done with Loumand is far more fascinating than that, and a 100% book-accurate portrayal wouldn't have worked as well thematically or dramatically. Loustat are the heart of the show (you could argue they were the heart of the VC too, it just took Anne a while to realise it!) so it made absolute sense for Lestat to permeate the story even as Louis "moves on". It'll affect the way Lestat's other romances are framed in future seasons too, assuming any of them (bar Nicki) are included at all. So even though I'm personally on board with the show's choices, if Loumand were my OTP I think I'd feel a tad cheated! Thoughts?

I know of Loumand fans who saw it just like that, namely tender and wholesome, and who got quite aggravated at me pointing out stuff, so it's definitely a perception thing :)

The thing is, and I said it before - it IS tender.

And "old Hollywood"... well. They did hint at "Gaslight" back then with the posters. And the tunnels echoed "The Last Man". And so on. They definitely went there, just not in the way some were expecting, I guess.

I... am not so sure the book actually gives us that wholesome romance though. I have seen that sentiment before, but... is that what is happening there? Really??

Because Armand canonically lies to Louis, woos him while he has Lestat locked up, woos him while whispering to Claudia to kill herself. Woos him while influencing his mind. Makes him turn Madeleine.

To only note a few things.

I'm not sure I call that "mutually infatuated" or "infatuated with each other". Louis was, no doubt. Armand... Armand was obsessed and did everything to get what he wanted.

So while I get that some Loumand fans might feel cheated... well. Personally I think that the show dug into the text quite precisely, sorry. And they never tried to promote it as the big love story. AMC never even promoted the pairing either.

And as per Lestat and Nicki... well. We have seen what they did for the darker parts of Loumand and Loustat. I am quite sure they will do that for Nickistat as well.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #iwtv s2 #iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire s2 #amc interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #armand #loumand #nickistat #nicolas de lenfent #iwtv nicki #lestat de lioncourt #iwtv lestat #loustat

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 3 days

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@twilighttowayvision wanted a possessive and protective Vess, so here we are ladies and gentlemen. My offering.

Snogging inner demons

Vess is a quiet kind of possessive. He doesn’t use nor need to use his voice to get the point around. Even if he’s just like the rest of the boys and prefers to keep the circle of people aware of his personal life to the minimum, he has ways of making sure that everyone is more than aware that you are off the market.

His protectiveness stems from the shared fact that now that he had let you in. Let you see the darkest, loneliest, still aching parts of him. Now that you have chosen to love him with all of the broken parts, he doesn’t want you to go. Can’t imagine a world where you aren’t the one he gets to wake up to or one he gets to turn to when his head gets so loud it’s driving him mad.

So Vess doesn’t feel a pang of jealousy when his eyes fall on you. A backstage pass around your neck as you beam at everyone with the same enthusiasm as you always do. Even if sharing your light with others makes him feel a tad annoyed at times. Vess would never forget how you two had dragged yourselves out of your apartment close to 9 pm to go to the store for snacks and well… protection. Cause wrap it before you tap it, kids. And he stood there, condoms behind his back while you nodded at the story the elderly lady, who had just scanned your porches, talked about her grandson’s birthday party that was coming up. Your full attention on her as she ran through the list of possible gifts and how she didn’t understand kids these days.

So Vess takes his time, finishing the conversation he was having with the band’s manager before he walks right up to you. He doesn’t say anything as he stands behind you. One of his hands slithering up your hip as he pulls you back into him. The story one of the guys was telling dies down and from the way all of them are looking up, you know that Vess, even with his mask on, can send a pretty clear message. And no one even has a second thought about it. They wrap it up almost immediately, as you manage to spear them one more smile before they hurry away.

“You give me Dracula vibes at times”, you snicker, turning to face your lover, “Or even better, you remember the way Professor Snape flows into the classroom?”, another giggle slips past your lips and you can see the corner of Vessel’s lips curving upwards. “But did you see any windows closing? Or candles that stopped burning?”, he tilts his head to the side. “We don’t have these here so not a fair comparison”, you let your hands fall to his bare chest, carefully of the pain that’s still drying there.

“Sometimes I want to lock you up so you would only shine on me”, Vess carefully brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Bad idea, III might just cry for the rest of his life”, you shake your head and this is enough to make Vess let out a low chuckle. “True, the boys love you”, he looks over your shoulder for a moment, before lacing his fingers through yours, “Come”, he mutters before pulling you towards a more secluded corner.

“You have a show in thirty minutes, Vess”, you warn him, not sure where his mind is going. “Plenty of time for what I want”, he mutters, pushing you in front of him, your body fully hidden by his frame. His lean fingers caress the side of your face before he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. The light and gentle pecks make you almost frown because this was not what you were thinking he had dragged you away for. But then his hand is on your neck as he turns your face to the side, his lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down to your shoulder. “Vess”, you hiss, yet your hands still pull him in by his hips. Soft touches turn into more intentional nibbling and soon you are more than aware as to what he’s doing. As he bites and bruises your neck. “Not a possessive boyfriend my ass”, you huff and it’s enough to make him halt, pulling a laugh that you can feel against your skin. He raises back up, fixing his mask, “Felt like marking the territory tonight”, he says so casually that you can’t help but hit his chest playfully. “Was this necessary? Here, with all the people?”, you point to your neck, which you sure is nice and purple now. Vess brushing his finger over your lips, “You got black paint on your face”, he smirks, “Everyone can already tell that you’ve been misbehaving”. You roll your eyes, “You are in trouble”, pointing a finger you, put the front camera on, whipping your face. Vess scowls, pushing your hand away, “Don’t wipe away my kisses”, you crock your head to the side, “Well, don’t kiss me like a manic then. It looks like I snogged my inner demon”, “Well, maybe you did”, he leans in pressing his lips to yours one more, this time in a way gentler way, “Here, no evidence”, smirking to himself he reaches for your hand once more, stepping back into the hustle of the pre-show.

#sleep token vessel x reader #sleep token vessel imagine #sleep token vessel x you #sleep token vessel fanfiction #sleep token x reader #sleep token x you #sleep token imagine #sleep token x oc #sleep token fanfiction

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quietwingsinthesky · 1 day

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in a good version of this season i feel like the one-two punch of kerblam! and the witchfinders could have been used to give the doctor a moment of growth. she has, so far, put aside her usual impulse to Break Shit in exchange for passively preserving systems as are, because her experience with trying to change missy killed her.

(importantly, this was a much smaller change then. say. blowing shit up. or destabilizing a government. but it was also much more personal, something she had an extreme investment in emotionally, and something that got her and her friend killed. the doctor makes irrational, emotional decisions and justifies them later with big speeches. that’s what she does. and her turn to being as passive as she can stand to be as thirteen is an irrational decision she’s making to try and protect herself from being hurt, to protect the people and planet she’s designated as her charge from being hurt. she can dress it up in the framing of not wanting to tamper with history, but what she’s not saying is she doesn’t want to risk breaking things, knowing that it might come back worse.)

and that’s fine. that’s a good route to take the doctor post-twelve. but kerblam! and the witchfinders are the perfect episodes to challenge her stance. because in, say, rosa, in the demons of punjab, even in ghost monument, she’s not gonna have to stay here. she doesn’t have to live in the systems she observes and leaves be. (obviously, doylist, we can’t have the doctor Solve Racism™️. but we can contrast her lack of action against those of the people who do have to live in the systems, who are risking everything and will suffer for it and still know that change is worth it.)

the start of kerblam! has them going in as workers. undercover. in the system. this is a mask the doctor can easily throw off when convenient for her. but she’s standing next to ryan, who couldn’t, not at his factory job. who nearly lost said job because the system he was in would have decided his disability made him a liability. who only kept it because of solidarity with his fellow workers. the doctor is In the system, but only for. day and only as long as she wants to be. at the end, she can still leave. in a better episode, they might have been able to use this to set up her realizing, hey, shit, the fact that i don’t Have to change things is a privilege i have from not having to survive under these systems. unfortunately. this is kerblam!

but the witchfinders doubles down on that! she can’t stand by and watch a woman be killed while her granddaughter cries! but her hesitation to act means that she dies anyway! the doctor asserts herself as an authority in the system to get access to information and power to prevent this happening again, and it looks at her, looks at the body she’s in and the face she’s wearing, and says No. says If you won’t submit to what we say about you, you will die. If you submit to what we say about you, you will die. This is the world, accept it. For the first time this season, the Doctor is chained to something she hesitated to change. She’s not watching anymore. She’s learning what it is to be drowned while everyone looks on and says nothing. Lets it happen. Because this is how it is. And the system isn’t the problem.

Like she’s been doing.

So! Conclusion! fuck if i know yet if they’ll uh. Do Anything With This Set-Up. but god it is so ripe to, if not change her ways, give some ample arguments that’ll make it harder for her to just walk away from the next space amazon facility, you know?

#doctor who

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aziraphales-library · 2 days

Note

hello there! thank you so much for all the work you're doing, it's amazing:)

i was wondering (since i tried to search ao3 myself and found nothing), if you know about any pretty woman AUs? thank you so much and have a great day!

I do! Not a complete one unfortunately:

Pretty Boy by SerenityStargazer [E], WIP

Aziraphale Fell, real estate tycoon, finds himself in need of a companion during a business week in London. He meets Crowley in Soho and finds he enjoys the younger sex worker's company. They spend the week together and both are surprised to find themselves falling in love.

"Hey, handsome," Crowley purred, "want a date?"

"Right now," the blond man replied in a very proper, educated accent, "what I need are directions to the Ritz. Got myself turned around, I'm afraid."

"Five pounds for directions, luv," Crowley said calmly.

"Five pounds? That's ridiculous!" the man sputtered indignantly.

"Ten pounds. The price just went up."

"You can't charge me for directions!"

Crowley grinned. "I can do whatever I want, angel. I'm not lost." He stood up and turned his back, letting his arse lean against the window frame.

"Oh, very well," the man said, pulling out his wallet. Crowley opened the door and climbed in.

"For a twenty, I'll take you there personally," he offered.

Aziraphale handed the twenty over silently then tried to find first gear.

Other fics with similar premise:

The (Half) Boyfriend Experience by ZehWulf [M]

The image on the monitor remained static for another minute or so, but then the door to the connected room opened, and the pale, curly-headed figure of Crowley's client—a man who went by Fell at the club—stepped through. As always, he stopped just after closing the door behind him to collect himself, gaze trained on where Crowley's lower half was splayed wide on lewd display. There was a whole ritual of straightening cuffs and waist coat and shifting his weight that he would go through before approaching.

Crowley felt their lingering scowl soften as they watched with vague fondness as he worked himself through the motions. At first, they'd wondered if the whole process was some sort of pre-sex psych-up, or a fussy-looking-middle-aged man version of reflexive peacocking. But, Fell had been requesting them for long enough by now that they'd been able to observe the way things evolved over time: the gestures loosening up, the amount of time spent shortening.

The poor bastard was just anxious.

Crowley works part time as a sex worker at a club, and one of their favorite, most baffling clients comes in looking like he's had just as bad a day as they have.

Dreaming of You by TawnyOwl95 [E]

AJ Crowley likes helping people discover and heal the neglected parts of themselves. Even if that's only for their scheduled session. He likes being a sex worker, although he's started to dream of some genuine intimacy.

Aziraphale Fell knows he isn't deserving of romance. As much as he might like the idea, a lifetime of neglect has left him insecure and afraid to reach for what he wants. He still dreams that one day he might be brave enough to take a chance.

Hired Heart (illustrated by many artists) by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge) [E]

As a result of his sheltered upbringing, Aziraphale made it to 50 without exploring his sexuality or coming out. After 50, all that changed - he's gay, he's out, and wants to find love. He also wants to have sex. He's a tad nervous about that. His friend Agnes suggests he consult a professional and get some no-strings practice and advice, and build some confidence. And her friend Tracy runs an agency…

Crowley has quite the breadth of sexual experience: he’s a high class escort. He’s been in his line of work for a long time, though in this industry, that’s not exactly an advantage. He likes his work, but the more he’s reminded that he’s not as young as he once was, the more he contemplates his exit strategy. When his bookings manager and friend Tracy gives him a new, nervous client, Crowley finds him unexpectedly captivating. In fact, Crowley can’t seem to get him out of his head.

A Smitten Crowley is also a very silly Crowley, so prepare for giggles and fluff along with your love story and smut...

Seirbheis by Kalimyre [E]

Human AU - Crowley is a sex worker, hired by the wealthy and eccentric Ezra Fell for a long weekend. He goes in expecting it to be just another job. But Ezra is not like other clients, and Crowley is soon in over his head.

In which our beloved ineffable husbands have clear, honest communication, a whirlwind romance, and tremendous amounts of soft, tender, kinky sex.

~Mod N

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #human au #sex worker crowley #pretty woman au #mod n

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ichatake · 2 days

Note

Yandere Obito and Yandere Kakashi with the same girl 👀👀👀 I loved it. Can we get a part 2 when they are older?

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1 Here!

Pairing: Yandere! Obito x reader x Yandere! Kakashi

Warning: Yandere themes, obsessive behavior, slight manipulation, mature content and slightly suggestive content.

A/N: thank you for requesting a part. 2, I love it when people like my works so much they ask for a second part! I hope you enjoy it!

As Teenagers:

✧ Obito was a very charming boy around you after he had warmed up to the idea of you staying on his team for the rest of your lives. You had now become the light of his day, completely replacing Rin. It was ironic how the last thing he wanted to happen was actually the first thing he’d come to love. Sure, he missed Rin, but you were there now. He surrounds you with his presence and surrounds himself around you at all times. That means that his pictures of Rin he had so dearly kept up in his room were suddenly taken down and replaced by your lovely face. If you compared the amount of pictures he had of Rin with the ones he has of you now, you definitely win. Apart from completely revolving his life around you, he makes sure to always be there for you; asking how you are, if you need anything, if you ate, etc. He wants you to enjoy his presence as much as he loves yours, and he wants you to feel loved by him. He doesn’t hide his growing crush, and it makes a certain silver haired boy boil inside.

✧ Kakashi gets fed up with Obito easily, as always, but when it comes to you, he can’t help but let his mouth move on his own. He always tries to embarrass Obito in front of you, and make himself seem better than his friend. Although you quickly shut Kakashi off and tell him that what he had just said wasn’t nice, he rolls his eyes and mutters a small apology just so you’re not mad at him. Thankfully, you never stay mad at him for too long, which he deeply appreciates. Like how he appreciates how naïve you are sometimes, because he loves to lie. He had never lied before, but once his feelings for you began to blossom, it became a habit of his. It started off as a small, harmless lie. When you asked him if he had seen your lovely bracelet that Obito had gifted you, he said no, while stuffing his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. Your disappointed frown made him slightly smile as he clutched that stupid bracelet of yours. He could always give you a new one. From then on, he began to lie more constantly, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. He lied to keep you interested in him, or to make you look for him. He liked when you needed his help, and he wasn’t shy to sabotage a few things just so you asked him for help.

✧ Both Kakashi and Obito knew that they were in love with you. They hadn't mentioned it to each other, but it was pretty obvious for the both of them. At first, they didn’t mention anything about it, but as they fought for your attention, it became obvious they needed to get this sorted out. At least, that’s what Kakashi thought. The boy knew Obito wouldn't be very flexible with you, considering how possessive he was, but once he caught said boy pressing his lips onto a framed picture of you while he passed by his house, he found that as the perfect opportunity to either blackmail him or make a pact. “If you don’t want (Y/N) to think you’re a total freak, then you’ll listen to what I have to say,” Kakashi’s threat made Obito sit still and quiet. There was no way he could live with himself if you ever thought he was a weirdo! So, with much irritation, he hesitantly listened to what his rival had to say. Kakashi explained that he knew Obito had feelings for you, and unfortunately, he did too. Of course, Obito wanted to speak and argue, but Kakashi shut him off immediately. “Let’s make a deal. We don’t have to fight over her. On the contrary, let’s work together. It’s obvious you want to keep her safe just as much as I do, and I don’t want her to end up like Rin,” The mention of Rin made Obito tense. At the end of their talk, they decided to put their rivalry aside when it came to you. They trusted each other enough to ‘share’, and they were very selfish kids, so that was surprising.

✧ The boys spend all their time with you. They are there at your beck and call, and you’re glad they’re there for you! You don’t really notice how they’re unnaturally obsessed with you, so you allow weird things to happen from time to time. Like how you let them pick you up and take you home everyday. How you take food or drinks from them, never questioning if they had anything in them, because they couldn’t possibly ever put anything in your food, right? They don’t really show their weird tendencies flat out, since they’re still in denial that they’re actually doing anything wrong. They simply liked you. That’s all. This was a simple crush they developed, nothing else. It wasn’t weird that the only thing they could think about at night was you. How you would take care of them, heal them, help them, feed them. How you were so nice and gentle when it came to them. How they would try to think of different ways to make you smile, because it was the only thing they were looking forward to in the day. Your smile was contagious to them, intoxicating even. To young boys like them, this was completely normal. The most in denial was Kakashi, but to be honest, he was the one who’d act out on his impulses. As stated before, Kakashi would be willing to lie just to get you on his side. If he didn’t like someone, he’d start telling you how bad of a friend that person was because “I heard them making fun of you”. Of all people you would expect to lie, you never thought Kakashi would be one of them. So, you believed Kakashi, and cut ties with a lot of kids because of him. This was a big victory for him, because now you would look for him even more. You invited him to eat, walk, and train. Sure, you would ask Kakashi if Obito would like to go too, but his answer was always “I don’t know, I think he’s out training again with one of his clan members. Let’s just go, just the two of us,” Apart from slowly becoming a pathological liar, he also made sure to go with you everywhere, whenever he could, of course. That includes when you’re not looking. You would complain about feeling watched sometimes, and he’d try to brush your concerns off by saying “Maybe you’re being paranoid. Maybe you’re used to Obito and I walking you home that it feels weird when you don’t,”

✧ Speaking of acting on impulses, Obito had become a little self aware that his love for you was becoming dangerously weird. Despite Kakashi being in denial, Obito knew that it wasn’t normal to think about you as if he had to. He needed to know what you were doing as much as he needed to eat, sleep, and breathe. He even felt a little guilty, in contrast to Kakashi. He felt so guilty the first time he stole from you. It was a simple hair tie you always kept around your wrist even if you never wore it. You had used it as some sort of bracelet. As he got home and pulled it out of his pocket, his heart dropped to his stomach as his eyes scanned the tie. Shame ran through his body as blood rushed to his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. He just stole from you! He was such a freak! He considered giving it back and apologizing, but he couldn’t do that! Then you would totally think he’s sick! So he decided to keep it. He promised himself he would never steal from you ever again. He doesn’t steal. He was a good kid! But, you never know where you might end up in life, and he found himself taking other things from you. Everytime he stole, he felt like a total thief, and he was. The guilt would consume him, but his desires were satisfied. So, he stole and stole and stole until stealing small things from you wasn’t enough. He was left unsatisfied, even if he had a drawer dedicated to placing all of the things he had stolen from you.

As Young Adults:

✧ Now the three of you were older, and had matured! Both Kakashi and Obito grew taller and bulkier, making them attractive young men. Meanwhile, you had also grown and developed in every way. Your personality, your face, your body. Everything changed in ways that satisfied them. To them, you were even more gorgeous than before, and they hoped you thought they were attractive as well. You see, despite them obviously crushing on you, nothing really happened throughout the years. You still considered them friends, and showed no sign of romantic interest in them, much to their dismay. However, that doesn’t mean they stopped obsessing over you. On the contrary, it only fueled their desires. Kakashi had grown an interest in very… detailed literature. The ones you wouldn’t really let children read. His desires developed and changed as he grew, and as he entered adulthood, he found himself thinking of perverted fantasies involving you. He didn’t mean to, but his mind couldn’t help wonder off on how your breast grew a little more, or how your hips became wider. He didn’t really feel guilty about it either. He told himself these fantasies and thoughts were normal for hormonal men like him. His eyes would wander on your body a little longer than usual, and when you noticed him looking at you, he would simply smile and tell you how you haven’t changed a bit. But you had. And he loved it. Now that you weren’t kids, you didn’t need them walking you home anymore. You didn’t need him to watch over you, and you were now getting missions that didn’t involve them. Although it disappointed both of them, they tried to keep their calm. Obito would think about following you while you were out on a mission, but he never did it. He considered it an insult to your skill. You were strong enough to protect yourself, right? Kakashi, on the other hand, didn’t care. He followed you on your mission to keep a close eye on you. You were weaker than him, therefore, you needed his protection. The best part was that you never noticed him. He found it to be a win-win for all parties involved, that being you and him.

✧ Kakashi wasn’t the only one with perverted fantasies, because Obito found himself waking up with a red face and sweat on his forehead while thinking back on the dream he just had about you. He’d be blushing the whole day while being with you, and when you’d ask him what was up, he’d brush it off saying it was just hot outside. What a big lie. Thanks to those dreams, he found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, hand clutching onto a piece of clothing he had slipped into his pocket the day you invited him and Kakashi to your house for your birthday. He felt disgusted at the fact he felt so aroused with you. That the simple faint scent of your perfume intoxicated him. The thought of owning your clothes without your consent drove him insane, much more than he already was. And the fact that he was holding the fabric close to his nose as his pants felt tight and uncomfortable had him questioning what he was doing. He asked himself why he acted this way, but made no effort into putting a stop to it as his hands fumbled with his belt to find peace from the heat and tension building up in his body. His thoughts would wonder what it would be like if it wasn’t your clothes he was holding, but it was you yourself. What would it feel like to have you sitting on his lap, holding onto his shoulders for dear life while you enjoyed how he made you feel? He had no idea how he could look at you in the eyes the next morning after a night full of dirty fantasies.

✧ Obito and Kakashi had also developed jealous tendencies that would annoy you at times. It was hard to deny that they liked you, at least a little more than just friends. And you didn’t mind it. You had also developed strong feelings for them, but that didn’t mean they could act as if they were your boyfriends when they weren’t. You hated the way you couldn’t talk to a guy because Kakashi would suddenly pop out of nowhere to try and slip you away from the guy. It annoyed you even more when he would start trying to insult the guy—not directly, but he would throw sarcastic and degrading comments just to see the guy’s confidence crumble. God forbid Obito ever sees you flirt with a dude either. He was even worse than Kakashi. When you mention how they should stop treating you as their girlfriend, they simply told you you were taking things out of proportions and how “The guy had been with half the village girls already,” They could stop if you wanted, but they were just being good ‘friends’. They were guys and they knew what their intentions were. You needed to believe them, but if you didn’t, that’s fine. If you wouldn’t stop talking to the guy, then the guy would just need to stop talking to you. Kakashi would make sure of it. And when you did come crying to them, saying how the guy was just a total joke and that they were right, they wasted no time in being by your side, “See? You needed to trust us. We told you,”, “At this point, the only guys you need in your life are us,” Maybe they were right.

✧ Kakashi was the one that took care of all your personal connections. He decided who you kept in your life, and who would need to leave immediately. Obito, on the other hand, took care of your emotional state. Whatever Kakashi did, it would leave you in shambles, and Obito would be there to pick up the pieces. He was well aware of what Kakashi was doing behind the scenes, I mean they both agreed on it. Obito wasn’t innocent, and you didn’t know that the two men you trusted with your whole life, were actually the ones ruining it. Speaking of ruining, you seemed to be stuck in the same rank rank ever since you became a chunin. Both Kakashi and Obito had ranked up and were currently Jonin, but you were still a chunin. You wondered why, because you were doing everything right. All your missions were completed and well executed, yet you still made no progress. You even asked the Hokage, your former teacher, why you hadn’t ranked up yet. “I’m sorry (Y/N), you're just not ready yet,” he’d tell you, making you storm off angrily out of his office. To you, your missions were perfectly executed, but the anonymous reports that would reach Minato were completely different to what actually happened. They would absolutely botch your hard work and explain how you made many rookie mistakes that belonged to a genin more than a chunin. Maybe you weren’t cut out for this. Maybe you were better working at the hospital than the field. This was highly supported by Kakashi and Obito as well “You’re one of the best medical nin I’ve seen! You should put your skills to work,” Obito would say, trying to motivate you to drop trying to complete missions outside.

✧ Let it be known that if you ever choose one of them, no you won’t. If it’s one of them, it’s both of them. They agreed on this. They both had a ‘right’ to you, so you couldn’t just choose one of them and leave the other. They had always shared you as teenagers, there was no way that would change now. They were insufferable, and they weren’t even in a relationship with you, imagine what it would be like if you actually dated them. Time was running out, and their patience was running thin. They had waited so many years for you to make up your mind, they couldn’t wait more. The more they fantasized about you, the more they craved you. Kakashi needed you to hold him, Obito needed to hold you. They needed you in every way of the word. They needed you in mind, body, and soul. They need you, and they would do anything to have you.

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