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teethrotter · 2 years

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pay the man.

Shimura dreams of Hatori. Takahashi is unable to help him.

CW: death, vomit / vomiting, car accident, gore ( relatively tame description ), angst, general sad boy shit

Paper pages fluttering together within the well-maintained, hardcover body of a book. The scent of mahogany and cedar and hickory. Clipped, warm laughter. Suit jacket sleeves brushing up against one another. Brewing coffee in a Syphon. Flashes of teeth in a wide grin. Lips fitting around silent words, arched with fondness. Leather Bergere chairs. Half empty beer glasses. Gently ravenous brown eyes. A mole placed just underneath a full lower lip. Crunching autumn leaves. A cartoonish black cat punctuated with an exaggerated frown: a sad cat.

More pages, this time bearing coiled, pretty penmanship rather than typed print. Hints of those same pages, through smell, sight, or audio, omnipresent throughout the brief snapshots. Shimura can taste the combined scents on the back of his tongue, threatening to choke him with either comfort or malice; he is no longer certain of which is prevalent. Regardless, they are overpowering, rendering him helplessly flat on his back and accompanying a one-word mantra: Hatori, Hatori, Hatori, Hatori, Hatori, Hatori.

The smells collapse to the bitter taste of fear, the same fear that enacted Hatori’s death sentence. Concern for his own well-being. Concern for the well-being of his wife and children. The nausea chasing the realization that it is not mere numbers being added together, it is not concrete, lifeless statistics, but actual people with lives beyond their occupations being murdered. The stifling reality of rejection that had been with him since his earliest memories. Simple impulsivity. The sheer depth of Hatori’s mortal terror following the moments before his outburst until his death hours later would never be truly known by anyone but himself, alone in that as he had been alone in every other crisis.

The taste is once again odor. A portion of the stench is permanently embedded into the fabric of Shimura’s couch, where Hatori spent his last conscious moments. He remembers the man’s incessant trembling well, his gasps and hitches of breath, his eyes, typically so clear and telling, red and clouded with swollen tears. He remembers the wet of those tears seeping into the shoulder of his shirt, his own endless stream of apologies just barely damming the flood. He remembers Hatori’s forced speechlessness, his trachea too overrun with strangled hiccups to allow any semblance of air to pass. He remembers being thankful for his inability to see Hatori’s face; his bleeding heart would have been entirely unable to bear the brunt of his misery.

Now, Shimura’s heart aches, and aches, and aches, worse than it ever could have that evening.

Next comes the image of Hatori’s car, a small, royal blue thing of monetary value less than his status would otherwise indicate. The image presented to Shimura’s internal eye, however, does not depict a vehicle - he only knows that is what the mangled mess of metal, glass, and rubber once was. It had been thoroughly decimated by a large semi engaged in a wayward, rapid left turn, crushing the artificial extension of Hatori’s body nearly on impact. The precious core never had any semblance of chance.

While expected, Shimura never could have properly prepared for his coworker’s scripted death, written into play by Higuchi’s damning hand just as easily as Hatori’s own crafted calligraphy. He glimpsed the horrific wreckage on the local news later that night, the photograph forever embedding itself into his visual memory as the victim’s name was announced. A pit formed deep in his stomach as he grotesquely observed the front end practically folding in on itself, the vehicle compacted into something half its original size. The glass of the windshield had been largely thrown inwards and Shimura can’t help but pray that Hatori was killed immediately, before the glass was able to impale him. The possibility that he died in debilitating agony, sobbing and bleeding and alone, is too much for Shimura to bear.

Abruptly, the flashback ends, and the driver’s side of Hatori’s disfigured little car comes into view. Glass from the windows is scattered throughout the street, leaving them open for viewing save for sparse clumps of material clinging to their now misshapen borders. Shimura, totally disembodied as he is, as if observing through a camera lens, begins to drift involuntarily forward to peer inside.

As he gradually nears the wreckage, panic and nausea bloom in his distant stomach. The gaping, crooked mouths of the crushed windows draw him ever closer and he knows that they will swallow him alive if presented with the opportunity. He loses the privilege of coherent thought as their individual glass teeth become stark against the car’s interior.

Within the mutilated corpse of the vehicle, pinned to the driver’s seat with needles of windshield glass, lies Hatori’s shell of a body. His clothing is unspeakably disheveled and pierced through in places. Superficial lacerations are gored into the expanse of his visible skin, most with glass embedded within / nearby. His head is dipped forward, hair shaggy enough from months without trim to conceal all but the tip of his nose. There is rusty, crusted blood threaded through the stark white and gray.

Hatori’s lips cannot be seen, but they begin to move. There is no other reasonable explanation, despite his horrible stillness, to explain why his voice can now be heard.

“You didn’t ask me to stay. I know how much you wanted to. You know I wouldn’t have fought you. You knew all along.” There is no hum of incoming traffic, no noise whatsoever. “You never even tried to save me. You knew how. You could have prevented this. At your house, it would have taken two words. At my last meeting, it would have taken a few sentences, a minuscule amount of discussion. You just didn’t care enough to pursue it.” A beat. “Your cowardice killed me. You killed me. You are the reason I will never see thirty-five. You are the reason my children will grow up without a father. You are the reason I will never see them become teenagers. You are the reason my father will pretend to grieve at my funeral. You are the reason…” The statements become a non sequitur, endless and merciless, penetrating to the core of Shimura’s being. “I hate you. I hate you. Murderer. Murderer. Murderer, murderer, murderer, murderer, murderer –- "

Shimura wakes with a jolt, a hiccup catching in his throat, tears coursing down his face, cold sweat sheeting his body, and bile exploding up his throat.

He bolts from the bed and into the adjoining bathroom. Falling heavily to his knees, he jerks the toilet seat up, hardly managing to duck his head quickly enough for yesterday’s chymified meals to plummet into the bowl. Retches wrack his frame as he sobs wetly, attempting to choke on his noises to prevent waking Eiichi or ( God forbid ) Haru. His hands, palms slick with sweat and freezing to the touch, shakily clutch the rim of the toilet bowl, lungs drawing in unstable breaths as he forces his body to partially calm. The stifled sobbing does not cease, his shoulders hunching and his esophagus aflame, face all but oozing with an unflattering mixture of sweat, mucus, and tears.

Suddenly, there is a tentative hand upon his tense shoulder, and Shimura knows that he has failed.

Takahashi smooths Shimura’s clumped bangs back from his damp forehead on a reflex born from repeating the same motion for his daughter countless times. The hand placed previously over his shoulder dips to rub gentle circles into the small of his back and Takahashi’s soft hip bumps up Shimura’s arm.

The man heaves pathetically, simultaneously plummeting deeper into his personal pit of self-loathing and struggling to refrain from allowing Eiichi to simply take him into his arms and set everything right ( as if anything could ever truly be right for them ever again ). Bile drips from his lips into the clouded water. He rasps for breath, haggard and pale and frigid, as his body finally appears to still.

“Bad dream?” Takahashi inquires softly, as if he has not yet tired of parroting the same question over and over on numerous nights just like this one. The hand previously pinning Shimura’s bangs snakes down to rest lightly over his belly, encircling his midsection.

Shimura merely nods - Takahashi is thoroughly acquainted with the regular subject of his nightmares by now, or at least the only one that consistently pushes him to tears and vomit. He edges marginally closer to the other man’s thigh, placing their bodies side by side.

“Mm.” Takahashi goes up briefly onto his knees to tenderly set the toilet seat down, flushing the bowl’s contents. He wastes no time in settling back beside Shimura, returning his arms to their loose, secure configuration. “Want some mouthwash? Water?”

“Y-Yes. Thank you.” Shimura’s words are croaked and cracked, his throat caustic with bile and emotion. Fresh tears drop to his chin, his sniffling undoubtedly obnoxious and wet and his chest fluttering shallowly with breaths he cannot yet control, but the unmanageable sobbing has quieted.

Takahashi guides the other carefully to his feet, bodily supporting him by draping an arm over his waist. Shimura’s fingers grip the fabric of his shirt, tremulous and unthinking. He simply pads along with Takahashi to the nearby sink, hands falling from their place as Takahashi administers a cap full of mouthwash. He gargles and spits, focusing on slowing his breathing, before he is given a small cup tap water. Nodding his thanks, he swallows before returning the cup to its place upon the rim of the sink. Exhaling shakily, he reaches to switch the faucet on, splashing distractedly at his already clammy face before toweling himself dry. Once he feels that he has sufficiently washed up, he finally shifts his attention fully to Takahashi, whose features are all but alight with anxiety and concern. The vestibules of shame encapsulating Shimura’s heart threaten to crawl up his raw throat.

“Do you need anything else?” Takahashi’s tone is soft, pliable, almost apprehensive, as if he is afraid of misspeaking. Shimura merely shakes his head, swallowing the palpable lump in his throat. Even though he has startled and woken the man an inexcusable number of times with the violent reactions to his mental torment, Takahashi is always in fear of somehow upsetting him further, as if he isn’t the one saving grace he has on nights such as these.

“No. I… It’s alright. Let’s go back to bed.” The statement tilts at its tail end, as if in question, but Shimura’s fingers dart decisively to Takahashi’s palm. The other man seems to hesitate, his eyes near frantically scanning over Shimura’s torso, but he nods unneeded assent. This time, he allows Shimura to lead him back into the bedroom, his fingertips lightly embedded into his palm.

They settle underneath the recently disturbed comforter, Shimura pressing his shoulders back to Takahashi’s chest as the man curls around him. Large arms gently wrap over his stomach. The nape of his neck is timidly nuzzled. He begins to physically relax for the first time in what feels to be hours.

Minutes composed solely of silence drift lazily by as Shimura wills himself thoughtless and Takahashi struggles not to fidget, mentally debating the best course of action. The last thing he wishes to do is prod inappropriately; he knows all too well the only subject capable of reducing his housemate to such hysterics.

“Do you want to talk about… him? H-Hatori or the dream? I don’t mind listening. Or trying to help.” It had taken him an eternity to rediscover his voice since the events that stole it from him, and yet how easy it is to relapse into muteness each time his nerves threaten to overtake him.

Shimura is silent for several seconds, but remains still; Takahashi does not panic, as he has not propelled him into another fit.

He inhales, the area between his shoulder blades nudging into Takahashi’s sternum. “I appreciate it, I really do. But it’s alright. Whenever I… dream about him, it tends to be the same thing, over and over again. This one was nothing new. Don’t worry.” He is thankful for Takahashi’s inability to see his face, for his inability to see the depth of his lie.

On every occasion such as this, Takahashi tries to coax Shimura to talk, even just a phrase or two, but his efforts consistently prove fruitless.

Simply put, Shimura does not deserve to talk, not after the role his hand played in Hatori’s death. He does not deserve any form of relief, does not deserve to have another to help bear the brunt of his cross, does not deserve Takahashi’s selflessness. Nothing Takahashi offers is his to take, nor should it be; his exclusive purpose was to provide Takahashi and his daughter with a life better than the one that was stripped from them. His sole obligation is to contribute to maintaining Takahashi’s hold on his indecisive voice and provide Haru with everything her weary, solicitous heart could ever desire. He no longer deserves to live for himself, not with the lost life he would be debasing by doing so. Hatori deserves better.

Takahashi’s cautious doubt is thick because he knows, knows that he is being lied to and that Shimura is not telling him something, but he has never been one for prying into matters that he is clearly intended to keep away from. His voice fails him just as it had all those months ago, reduced to holding the other man close to his chest and pressing his forehead into his dark hair in a meaningless ( desperate ) endeavor to ward off any more thoughts of Hatori from his brain. He does not deserve to be haunted as he was by his ghost.

Shimura yawns, careless and unbothered, something that Takahashi knows he is not.

“Let’s go back to sleep. I’m sorry for waking you up.” He longs to be able to honestly say that this will not happen again. “Haru has school tomorrow.”

“Right. You’re right.”

Takahashi’s heart aches, and aches, and aches.

#death note #fanfiction #the yotsuba group #eiichi takahashi #suguru shimura #takamura #writing tag #original date: 12 / 18 #more context on ao3 under the same username + title blah blah

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youngststark · 3 months

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"x Reader" playlists on Spotify!

So, I've made a few playlists on spotify (based on my personal tastes) for my favorite characters for when I'm reading fics, and I have decided to share with you guys because y'all might like it. They're all "x Reader" based and I'll sort them out by fandom.

My Hero Academia: - Katsuki Bakugou - Shouta Aizawa - Enji Todoroki - Tomura Shigaraki

Jujutsu Kaisen: - Suguru Geto - Satoru Gojo - Ryomen Sukuna - Toji Fushiguro

Genshin Impact: - Wriothesley - Zhongli - Kaveh - Diluc - Itto

Bungou Stray Dogs: - Osamu Dazai - Chuuya Nakahara - Yukichi Fukuzawa - Ryuunosuke Akutagawa

Twisted Wonderland: - Idia Shroud - Malleus Draconia - Jade Leech - Jack Howl

Honkai: Star Rail: - Jing Yuan - Dr. Ratio - Sampo Koski (WIP)

Black Clover: - Yami Sukehiro (WIP) - Nozel Silva - Zora Ideale

Baldur's Gate 3: - Halsin (NSFW) - Halsin (Fluff/Angsty) - Gale

Obey Me!: - Diavolo - Beelzebub

Overwatch: - Reinhardt Wilhelm - Jamison Fawkes (Junkrat) - Hanzo Shimada - Jack Morrison (Soldier 76)

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justshipsandstuff · 2 years

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Hostess Uta is basically Otae with super power and that’s just terrifying

#can’t wait to see them back to school #the little terrors they were #utahime appreciation post #I miss her 🥲#jjk #iori utahime #utahime iori #sashisu #gojo satoru #shoko ieri #geto suguru #shimura otae #jujutsu kaisen #my art

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dont-call-me-algernon · 1 year

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#[mido voice] good one namikawa #death note shitpost #reiji namikawa #shingo mido #suguru shimura

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sugurushimura · 4 months

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the yotsuba group + tumblr textposts

#might make more of these sometime idk #Yotsuba #Kyosuke Higuchi #Reiji Namikawa #Takeshi Ooi #Shingo Mido #Eiichi Takahashi #Suguru Shimura #Masahiko Kida #Arayoshi Hatori #spoiler: no one cares

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fanficshit0908 · 2 years

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Yotsuba Group Smut

ayo this is a gangbang and again instead of the name Y/N we have Sam because i really like that name lmao

There she was, getting her holes stuffed by to Higuchi and Hatori. Higuchi was on top of her using her lubed hole, meanwhile Hatori was slapping into her pussy. She could feel them hitting her best spot nonstop, making her noises get louder. The other men was watching and rubbing themselves with pure lust in their eyes, who couldn’t wait to have a taste. As she turned her eyes, she saw Takahashi’s cock right in front of her, aching to be touched. He held it towards her mouth, she didn’t even hesitate to take it all in to her throat, gagging a little. Still moaning on his dick. How did things come to this point? Oh yeah, the dinner at her house. Ever since she joined the company she was the target of adoring, mostly by them. Literally the entire company had a crush on her, thanks to her gorgeous features, smartness and kind heart. She did everything well which made her to get attended to their private confidential meetings. As they got closer, she thought it would be a “good idea” to invite them to dinner at her place. Everything went fine until that stupid question came along with the light headness of wine. “Who would you choose among us?” What the hell? If she chooses one others wont be happy with this and they knew it. Pushing her to her limit, and thanks to wine, they all got what they wanted. A taste of her. Which no one was complaining about how a unhealthy opinion this is, all of them were lost in the pleasure that she was giving to them. Even the most hesitant one, Shimura who was licking his lips while looking at her jiggling breasts and feeling himself, didn’t even think twice before taking his dick out. Their gazes were hungry, aching to get inside her.

Covered in sweat, tears and salvia she was also slowly losing herself. It wasn’t long before Takahashi came into her throat, pushing himself further and pulling out. Sam coughed, cum dripping from her chin. “Fuck.. That’s a good girl” said Takahashi, slapping his dick to her cheek. Her make up now ruined, mascara flowing down with tears to her cheeks, lipstick slipped to her chin, some of on their dicks.

“Ahah.. Im gonna cum..” she heard Hatori say, his pace getting faster. “Shit, Me too.. Hah” Higuchi added. With a high moan they filled her up with their seeds. As they took themselves out with low gasping, Shimura got up not ,wasting a minute, raised her ass up then replaced his erected one in her cum dripping pussy. “Holy shit.. Its so fucking good-Ah..” said while slapping hard, squeezing her butt. Mido went in front of her, as she opened her mouth, he pushed in without a warning. “Mmh.. suck me nice and clean..” he grabbed a fist-full of her hair, moving her head. “Mmmf-“ she could only moan ins response. Kida also got up from his seat, brought her hand to his cock as Sam started to fap him fast. She switched between Mido and Kida, making sure to give them enough attention, while Shimura was railing her from behind. As they came on her face, Shimura striked a few deep thrust in her, making sure his cum got in well. When he pulled out Sam collapsed on the couch.

Her eyes looking at the last two ones of Namikawa and Ooi, who started walking towards her. Ooi grabbed her, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Namikawa who was behind her started rubbing himself to her second hole, while Ooi slapped in her wet walls. When they both got in, it was like heaven and hell to her. Getting fucked dumb by 8 guys made her body orgasm an amount she just couldn’t count anymore. She held Ooi’s face, looking him in the eyes, only thing she saw was lust as he gave her ass two brutally hard slaps. “Aah-Fuck!” she answered to his act. She couldn’t take it anymore as she squirted to their dicks. “Oh she can squirt~” Takahashi’s voice was heard. The pace they were giving her got faster, making her scream in tears of pleasure. “F-Fuck dont stop Ah~” she said loudly. Like others they came in her, cum now dripping out her like a bucket. As they took themselves out, Namikawa replaced her onto the couch.

Her legs trembling, seed oozing out her both holes in a very much amount, her face covered in cum, spit on her chin, tears flowing down her cheeks with a sweaty body. While she was about to complete herself, she saw the men’s cock were hard again. “How about a round two? Im sure you can take it love.~” said Higuchi, while rubbing his dick with his hands. Sam looked at him, breathing heavily, smiled. It was going to be long night…

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pantysshot · 3 months

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doodle dump uhhhhhhh

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hopeluna · 2 months

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!! Fic Recs

Most of these are long fics or series and some of these are 18+ so be ware? But anyways, enjoy these works from absolute writing angels <33

Jujutsu Kaisen

Symptoms & Causes by @lostfracturess

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

Love Entries by @chuluoyi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: series of episodes of your life with the strongest sorcerer throughout the past and present

men are so quick to blame the gods by @awearywritersworld

Sukuna x reader

Synopsis: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night.

wanna be yours by @nezuscribe

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?

his kiss, the riot by @nezuscribe

Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

i'd crawl home to her by @likelilacwine

Geto Suguru x reader

Summary: the god of the underworld brings his most valued prize home at the risk of tearing the realm itself apart.

Boku No Hero Academia

@andypantsx3

Yes, her entire blog. Pls each and every series of her is god send. I cannot reccomend this to you enough!!

pretty white dress by @gaybybirth

Dabi x reader

Synopsis: You're shelving books like normal at work when a new face comes into the store. And in a small town where everyone knows each other, a new face really stands out. Especially when it's one that makes you burn in ways you never have.

FILL MY LITTLE WORLD (RIGHT UP) by @shibaraki

Aizawa Shouta x reader

Synopsis: you are employed by aizawa shouta to nanny for his vulnerable adoptive daughter eri while he’s at work. as time passes you find yourself equally smitten with them both, longing for a more permanent place in their family.

please save me by @hitoshiyoshi

Platonic!young!shimura tenko x reader

Synopsis: you save shimura tenko

Stranger Things

Not Wholly Evil by @uglypastels

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

As you wish by @corroded-hellfire

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: When Eddie isn’t appreciated like he should be, his babysitter feels the need to step in and comfort him.

Living After Midnight by @munson-blurbs

Eddie Munson x reader

Synopsis: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head.

Please do tell me if you want to be removed from this for whatever reason!!

#♡! hope's diary #support banner by @/saradika-graphics #lace divider by @benkeibear

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