#the more you think about it the more it looks like grooming
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┌─ “ ! „ HEARTBEAT
tw. pseudocest, noncon, possessiveness, grooming?, age gap, blood, murder, a lot of trauma bonding
wordcount. 6k
a/n. thank yoUUUU rhi for betaing you are my favorite as alwaysssss I love you soooo much ♡♡
okkotsu yuuta x fem!reader
Blood is splattered on the ground of the dirty alley, and there’s another heavy thump when his kick once again lands on the kid’s skull and he moans in pain. He calls him a kid in his head because he’s got that shit-faced little attitude, and now an ugly gap where his front teeth used to sit, but he should be old enough to know better. As a couple passes by the narrow street, he shields things from view a little, before using the long edge of his sheathed sword to push the dumb, bloody face to the side. Because his eyes are starting to look like two overripe tomatoes from the impact, he couches down before the sandy brunet.
“You know what this is about?” Yuuta’s voice is hoarse. He hadn’t really noticed it before, but it’s been a busy week cleaning up your messes. Don’t get him wrong, he doesn’t mind. If anything, it makes him feel sort of useful. You’re good and kind and don’t get into trouble on purpose — which is why he’s here late at night making sure things get handled. Niisan’s got it, after all. He doesn’t bother to clear his voice. “Hey.”
“Take my cash,” the young man below him now whistles through the missing teeth, teary eyes darting around as he pats his hand all over himself to look for a wallet.
Yuuta scoffs. “I don’t want your money. If I did, you think I’d waste my time beating your face in like you had it coming?” The anxious, almost nervous lilt to his own voice doesn’t escape him. If you could see him now, you’d probably say that he was enjoying this too much - and while he is, the idea of this getting back to you doesn’t escape his mind. It won’t though, logically speaking. The kid probably wouldn’t be able to see straight for a couple hours, and you will never find out. “I want to know why you’re hanging around Rika’s kid sister.”
“Kid? W- I don’t know any Rika!” He yelps when he tries to lift his head and gets the handle of the weapon hit hard onto the bridge of his nose again, adding more blood to the mess that’s running all over the bottom of his face. Yuuta really can’t see it, lifting his top lip in slight disgust. Handsome, where? Just as much as this boy isn’t really a kid anymore, neither are you. But you’re younger, and deserving of protection — is it really so bad he wants to imagine you as his baby sister for a bit longer before you start trying to escape from under his wings?
Not that you’re going to go anywhere.
“I don’t know a Rika,” the blond whines again now, hiding his face into his hands to drool and hiccup against the cold floor.
“Orimoto Rika, has a kid sister.” Yuuta bites back, patience running really thin.
“O-I- I kn- oh, we’re in the same uni prep class!” He gets up to close his eyes and focus all his attention on not just kicking against his skull until the answers fall out. He knows that, how else would he even know to ask? The head damage takes it a few seconds to make the guy continue, sniffling. “We’re friends- or- my friend knew her. I liked her so we hung out a few times.” Yuuta’s hand is cold around the worn handle.
He takes a slow breath, watches the cloud of air as he lets it out. The promise ring glints in the light of the street, and it’s all familiarity and instinct that makes him brush his thumb over it. “Were you serious with her? Or did you tell her whatever so you could fuck her? Hm? Did you fuck my little sister?” The brunet snivels and whines under him when his foot lands back right before his face, demanding attention.
“I won’t talk to her anymore, I swear! I swear I w-won’t even - it’ll be like I never existed. Please.” The pitiful whining he’s doing, groveling like a dog below him - sort of reminds him of a younger him. Someone who didn’t have a purpose yet, and was scared of everything for it. The heavy weight of the ring clings to his hand when he lifts it to unsheath the katana, seeming to wrap a comforting palm around his own. If he could, he'd tangle fingers with her.
“P-please, let me go home! I didn’t do- I wouldn’t touch your s-sister, I didn’t know.”
“I hate guys who aren’t serious with her.” He clicks his tongue, and has to spit out the nasty taste that this entire situation leaves on his tongue. The weight of the sword is barely an inconvenience when both hands wrap around the handle properly. He’s doing this for Rika and him. Always. “She deserves so much better.” A mean flash of possession crosses his thoughts - how no one except him will ever be good enough. But he pushes it back, because that has nothing to do with why he’s doing this. Nothing.
+
“Yuuta~” Her voice haunts when he closes his eyes.
He’s in the sandpit of the Children’s hospital, rocking back and forth softly on the edge of it as he waits. The sun makes the sand nice and toasty, it warms his feet when he plants them down. “Yuuta!” It’s instinctive, when he looks up at the familiar voice. Rika’s hair travels in a perfect arc behind her when she runs to make it catch the light like a halo. Pretty blue dress making the shine of her hair even brighter, cheeks rosy, and her eyes glittering diamonds when they find his and she crashes down next to him. Her scraped knee is proof that it’s too hard, but he can’t help but smile when her cheek touches his arm on the landing.
Something hits the floor with a loud thump.
Yuuta turns over his shoulder to watch. There’s a smaller child that’s chin down on the earth behind them two, thick crocodile tears threatening to spill when Rika gasps. “Rika neechan~ Wait.” You pout, straightening up quicker than you should to reach your hands out to her. The girl hurries over to dust your cheeks off and drag you along behind her. It’s such a nice day out, Yuuta’s sweater is just thick enough to make his entire body warm. He stares at your face a little too long, before glancing between you two.
You’re still rounder than she is, but it’s undeniably eerie. “Your sister?” He asks softly, and Rika grins wide. She gently maneuvers you by the hand to sit next to her, then pulls you into a hug.
Her lips are pretty pink when she licks them. “This is Yuuta. Say ‘hi Yuuta’.” You parrot your sister obediently, as she waves your hand around at him. “Me and Yuuta are going to get married. So you should be very nice to him, okay?” Her sweet cheeks are the exact same as yours, long lashes and big, knowing eyes that always have him staring. You just look absentmindedly at the grass when Rika holds you into her side, but nod.
He smiles softly when your big eyes find his again. And Rika giggles. “And she’s gonna be your sister one day, so you gotta protect her well. We’re gonna be one happy family, promise?” She extends her arm to hold out a pinky finger at him. “That’s what I want.”
+
His fingers are pressing indents into your arm. It’s unusual. Yuuta’s always gentle, he’s soft and cares, but today his hand is screwed almost protectively tight around your upper arm, and you can’t say that you hate the feeling. Maybe childishly, you want him to squeeze even harder - so you’ll have no reason to get out.
You don’t come here a lot. Not since the accident tore open the painful scarred memory of it, but even before then, it wasn’t exactly your favorite place. It’s at Yuuta’s gentle prompting that you even managed to dress, and now walk however slowly between the low stone walls. The rain taps impatiently on the umbrella above, as the older boy casts you a careful glance. Then slowly bends to sit on his ankles, and grabs your hand ever so softly, meeting your eyes. His hands, though big enough to dwarf yours now, are almost velvety when they clasp around yours. It feels like he’s exponentially grown, while you’ve stayed pretty much the same.
Partly the illness. Mostly the age.
“Think you can go on?” he softly asks, kind eyes sympathetically regarding you. Like he’s making a judgment call about whether to turn back after all - debating the long walk back to the hospital. “I’ll be right here with you.”
“You’ve already gone before, haven’t you?” Your voice sounds a bit accusatory, a bit pouty too. Can’t be helped. Yuuta could be a living saint and you’d still find it hard. He clearly doesn’t take it to heart, because he smiles. His one hand then moves up to ruffle your hair.
“It’s still hard for me too, though,” his lips quirk up in an almost smile, but you can tell he doesn’t mean it. It’s sort of comforting to know that even someone like him feels it. Of course he would. Your neesan was family, but Yuuta probably knew her better than you ever could. He was beside her when she got out the two times, and was waiting when she had to get re-admitted. He was there when she got hit— there’s a comforting brush of your cheek when he stands back up and the umbrella gets so much higher. Yuuta blinks. “Come. I think you can do it.”
Your chubby cheeks flood with warmth, as you take his fingers into your hands with a nod. “Okay.”
It’s like this that you wind up at the headstone, stepping through dredged earth that’s been walked on too much. It seems to cling to the bottoms of your shoes with intent - you squeeze Yuuta nii’s hand tighter at the sight of the family grave. It now holds three of your kin in a warm embrace under the several bouquets of wilting flowers, and however morbidly, you think that maybe you’ll be joining soon. You’re young, but it’s not lost on you when the nurses send each other pitying looks.
“Is this where neesan’s buried?” Your voice sounds pinched and small, and sort of pathetic. You imagine Yuuta nii cried when he came to the funeral, but he wouldn’t have whined. You’re whining. You don’t want Yuuta to get fed up with you. Not when he’s the last semblance of ‘family’ you have left. After a while of staring blankly at the stone, he nods, and turns over his shoulder to smile at you again, pulling you a little closer to him. Your arms loop around his waist, staring down at the pretty whites that shake under the rain. “Is this where I’ll be buried when I die?”
He freezes. You feel bad about the double take he does when his spine goes more straight, rigid limbs dropping by his side as a deep, uncomfortable breath makes its way out. Your hands wring together instead.
However long it takes for him to unlock his limbs is however long you breathe through your tears as they well up stubbornly along your lash line, before your head is pulled to his ribs into an embrace. He swallows back emotion himself. “That’s not- I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise. I promise.”
“I’m sick-”
“No.” His eyes glint with something silvery when he takes your face between both hands and lets your childishness wash over him, clenching his jaw. “What happened to Rika was an accident- I- I couldn’t do anything then. But nothing’s going to happen to you as long as I’m here. I need- you to believe me.”
You don’t flinch when he uses your cheek to turn your face his way, but the urge still sits. His eyes study your face too intently, like he’s looking for something he can’t quite find. “I promised that I’d be a niichan that protects you.”
Rain splatters into a million glistening flecks as it meets the headstone.
“Okay,” you say.
It isn’t lost on you that his jaw is set too tight as he drags you back by the hand towards his bike, fist clenched around the umbrella. He breathes a tiny, ‘Later, Rika’ before turning on his heel. You don’t manage the same. Your voice gets stuck in your throat, even when he helps you up onto the bike rack in the back, pulling your face into his chest too tight- squeezes you to mold against him. He smells nice for a teen boy. The kiss he leaves on your crown is gentle, and leaves a soft warmth on your skin — You doubt it is really meant for you.
+
The door pushes open as you’re putting clips into your bangs, tongue trapped between your teeth. You cast Yuuta a glance through the mirror when he lingers at the door, and try to smile. “I’m almost ready.” You’re no longer too keen on fighting, the longer the silent treatment drags on. After a while of watching you with his arms crossed over his chest — he walks over to your bed to plop himself down and lets himself fall backward.
“I’m sorry,” the noiret sighs at nothing in particular, as you put on a necklace and after debating for a second, some perfume. The noise makes Yuuta look, studying you when you turn. It’s easy to forget sometimes that Yuuta didn’t have to stay with you, and he sure as hell didn’t have to give up a lot of his youth to take care of you like he does. Like your other family refuses to do when all the cards are on the table. He catches your stare. “You know I love you. I… worry when you’re not right here where I can see you. We stick together.”
“I know.” Your smile only barely makes your lips move, but you do mean it. You just wish realizations like this didn’t always have to come at the cost of fighting. “For what it’s worth, I’ll probably always forgive you.” You try to laugh, and brush your hair out of your eyes a final time before grabbing your bag. “I’m only going to be out for a few hours, max.”
Yuuta frowns when he sits up. His dark hair is brushed out of his face, damp and soft from the shower. “You’re still going?”
You blank. “Yeah, Himari and Shota are waiting for me. We’re going to see a movie.” He only has to let his eyes travel over your body and clothing once, for you to read what he’s thinking. You yank the edge of your skirt a bit lower, and pull your shoulders up. “What, what?! I can’t go out looking like this? It’s basically the same length as my uniform, what’s wrong with that?!”
“I didn’t say anything,” he breathes back, empty eyes regarding you with a static sort of- indifference, you guess.
“You don’t have to, niichan! God!” You turn to walk out the room, but Yuuta grabs your wrist when you pass by the bed. Sat down like he is, eyes tracing you like a lion- Yuuta no longer looks like the boy that used to draw stars on the ceiling of your hospital room for your amusement. Your cheeks heat when he basically glares straight at you for your attitude, and mulls the answer around in his mouth. Your anger subsides as you take a breath. This is the guy who makes you fresh apple juice in the morning, and calls you up between shifts. Because he cares. He just cares.
“Can I please go, Yuuta nii?”
After a few seconds, he clicks his tongue, staring at the edge of your skirt before tugging at it too, barely hiding a frown you can see dig between his brows. “You know I don’t like that Shota kid?”
Your lips jut out. “Yeah…” It’s getting awfully close to time to leave. You take a step back just to get his hands away from you. It’s distracting, and this is your brother you’re dealing with. “But he’s really nice. He started high school already but he used to be in my class the last three years, so… so you don’t have to worry. He knows I can’t do everything because I’m sick and he says—”
“Yeah, I’m sure he says everything you want to hear… You’re smarter than this. You don’t actually believe that.”
“He’s my friend.” A friend that makes your heart beat a bit faster when he smiles at you, but what’s it to him? “He doesn’t lie.”
Yuuta grimaces when you stare him down. “Don’t tell me about teenage boys, I used to be one.” He bristles before sitting up straighter, and though he’s technically below you, you still feel his energy tower as those big, dark eyes stay on your face. “Are you really ‘going to see a movie’? Or are you just going to sit in a boy’s room all night while I’m worried sick-”
You’re about ready to walk out, but his fingers are still looped around your wrist. “We are going to the movies! Himari and I! Just because a boy is there- ugh! Niichan, don’t make it weird!” The heat burns higher on your cheeks when you ball your fists, ignoring the pressure behind your eyes. This is so embarrassing. “I want to go.”
It’s quiet for much too long, making goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin. Then he breathes. “Come here.” His voice has more of an edge than it used to. You used to like the way your name fell from his lips. You’re not so sure you do anymore. Instead of storming out and forgetting all about him, you stare back at the sharpness in his eyes. When he pats his lap with familiarity, you jerk a brow. But you sit. His breath brushes along your neck too softly where he’s seated. It tickles on the way down.
It almost feels like… like he could wrap his hands around your neck and squeeze until you stopped struggling.
Yuuta nii wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.
Fingers come to your necklace, undoing it, and it drops into your lap on the pretty, blue skirt. It’s suddenly much too cold in the room, and you resist the urge to wrap your arms around yourself. It’s fine. You’re fine. Yuuta is family.
Still the untouched skin of your neck feels too exposed.
If he notices your rigid posture, he doesn’t bother fixing it. Just reaches, then pushes your head forward. The childishly familiar pink, bedazzled heart he holds up instead glints, swaying from where you left it on your side table for the night. “You get back at 9,” his lower voice sounds, “or else I’m driving out to wherever you are and dragging you back to my car.” When you don’t say anything in response, he brushes away your hair from your shoulders.
“Yuuta nii,” you start, clamming up when he drapes the dainty thing around your throat and does the closure for you. “I wasn’t going to wear that one tonight.” You don’t always want to wear whatever Rika left behind until infinity.
“I think you will,” he breathes back, and kisses your exposed shoulder. It’s less sweet, more something to punctuate his statement. If he wasn’t so familiar and soft, you’d immediately fight against the way his strong arms wind around your waist to anchor you in his lap. “Just wear it.” His hands stay against your skin, long after he’s finished. Too long, and after seconds of sitting in the tense silence, you jerk up off his lap to grab your discarded bag from the floor. The other necklace drops to the carpet somewhere, but you don’t care.
“Fine,” you bring out tightly, before giving him a last look. Your bottom lip trembles a slight bit, so you suck it into your mouth to make it stop. And tears sting at the corners despite yourself. “Later, then.”
“Tell Himari that niichan says hello. It’s been so long since she’s been here.” He gets up from your bed too, and you resist the urge to rush out the room before him when he steps around you. You can’t fight the feeling that somehow… you were just caught in your lie. Your phone beeps in your bag, as Yuuta nii disappears around the corner. Shota, probably.
+
Blood. The door creaks, swings against the wind.
Dead.
You hope he’s dead. Blood pools at the center of the showers, sinks down the drain too slowly. It sticks to the pretty porcelain tiles of the old school locker room before the water gurgles it down.
They’re dead.
You don’t have to question it before it’s confirmed. Before the heavy, silver cleaver is lodged into the side of the already ruined skull. All of them. All of the boys of the soccer team seem to be present, though you don’t want to try and count. Counting makes it real. This shouldn’t be. The heavy thump makes way for a gross squelch when he yanks the metal out, and keeps the body down with his foot.
The spatters on his face are still wet. You can’t help the way your voice comes out when you breathe in deep and try to keep the tears from spilling over. The cleaver’s red and sticky and so is his hand, up to his forearm, his forehead from wiping his hair away. All of it, ruined.
“Y-yuuta nii?”
The metal door of the locker slams closed with the wind and hits you in the back, sending you skittering forward a few steps before you force the air out of your lungs with a stuttered pant.
With a soft smile, he turns over his shoulder. “Shhh.” The blood’s crusted under his nails when he presses a finger to his lips, then waves you closer. “Help niichan out?” His eyes glint over, before his smile goes a little wider, and he whips the blood off the weapon onto the ground. “S’ your fault I had to do this after all. We can clean up together. Hm?”
Your breathing is so shallow that you can feel your heartbeat in between your ears. You aren’t sure why you nod. The guilt tastes bitter on the way down.
+
Rika was dead on impact. She didn’t have a chance, even after she fought so vehemently against what took your mom. You know that. Even if she didn’t get struck by misfortune then, she might’ve not lived past her teens.
Yuuta doesn’t seem to know. He also doesn't seem to consider the same for you either— letting you toy with the edge of his shirt where you’re curled into him in your too-small bed. The hospital wants you back for another check-up.
It’s true that you’ve already outlived your sister, but that doesn’t mean it’ll last forever. Yuuta nii doesn’t want to hear it. As he brushes your hair with his fingers, you scratch the arm where the IV’s always get attached with an absent minded pout. Until Yuuta notices, pouting down at you. “Are you still feeling dizzy? I can make you some green tea if you’ll let go of me for a few minutes. Lots of honey like you like.” You quickly shake your head.
To him this is final, the worst you’ll ever get, and in reality that’s probably not the case. You don’t tell him though. His deep eyes stay on you a little too long. “What’s wrong?”
Sometimes you wake up and can’t open your eyes past a blurry sliver, your head tight enough to make your skull feel like it’s caving in. Times where you have to clasp your stomach painfully tight to hold yourself together — stumbling in tears into Yuuta’s room. Like you’ll disintegrate in his arms unless you lock him around yourself. This isn’t as bad, but you still feel bad.
Feverish and cold all at once, achy where your stomach goes up and down. You can’t mention the possibility of having to go back into urgent care without aniiki spiraling, so you keep your mouth shut. “I don’t like green tea,” you guiltily admit instead, and stare up at him when he holds a few knuckles to your head, studying you.
His expression scrutinizes you a little tighter, before he pets over your crown. He presses a soft kiss onto your lips. It’s Rika that loved it, you want to say, but for some reason you can’t make the words come out. He sighs, slightly put out, but then nods. “If you’re feeling better later, maybe you can help Yuuta nii with the curry. Okay?”
“Mhm,” you smile up at him, and you can see how the muscles in his jaw unclench.
His soft hands cup your face intently, staring down at you too intently. It starts sweet, until the feeling of his breath dust over your face and you watch as he flicks his eyes all over you. “You look so much like her. I can tell now that you’re getting older though,” his thumb smoothes over your soft cheek. “We should see if there’s something in Rika’s stuff you can still wear.”
“Won’t be able to fit it anymore, niichan.” Your voice comes out apologetic, though you don’t know why.
“Hm. You might be right.” His look goes more distant before he pulls you closer. Legs tangled, arms loosely looped around you. “You’re still smaller than me though. Luckily.” He takes a deep breath, before nuzzling his nose into your crown to breathe long and deep. His warm hands trail over yours before squeezing. “I love you, you know that? Always will.”
You stare at the wall of mementos past Yuuta’s shoulder. Suffocatingly cram packed. Her pictures. Her music poster. Her pre-teen bottle of perfume you wear only on special occasions. Your hands stop toying with the edge of his shirt to brush instead along his forearm until you meet something that isn’t skin. Yuuta’s quiet, but his breathing is slightly pinched— you don’t mean to.
You glance between you two to the plastic your finger hooks onto. The bracelet she made in the hospital care ward for Yuuta that he still wears despite the fact that the color has long peeled off of the cheap beads. “You loved neesan, right?” Your lashes almost brush when you look back at him, watch him trap his tongue between his teeth for a moment as pink sits on his cheeks. His hand wraps around yours to tangle fingers.
“I… did.”
He swallows. “She made the hospital seem a little less lonely.” The mementos seem to stare at you from across the room as he speaks, and the uncomfortable feeling in your stomach refuses to fade. If anything, it gets more painful. Tighter. “We’re going to be together forever though. And I,” he squeezes your hand, voice fading to barely a whisper, “I love you. Love you so much.”
There's a cold slid over your fingers when he moves. You allow him to slip off the band, gently, and almost as if he wants to give it to you without you noticing, his fingers slide the cursed thing onto your hand instead. His smile is gentle, makes those dark eyes look a little less pressing. “When you’re cleared from going back to the hospital, we can find me a matching one. We still have to get married, right?”
The room feels cold.
“... Okay.”
+
“Let’s kiss?”
It’s too late to be early when the shared bed gets crowded over on your side. “St- I’m going to sleep, Yuuta nii. Stop.” You don’t open your eyes to the touch, definitely not to the gentle brush of his fingers over your lips when he gets too close. Always too close- it’s suffocating. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore.”
“Don’t be like that.” He sounds happy. He always sounds like that when it has to do with you, and it doesn’t take long for your eyes to flutter open when the thumb instead pushes into your mouth. “If we get married, this will be normal. Don’t pull back.” He pushes onto your tongue to make you hold it in your mouth all heavy and tasting of him, then leans in to push his forehead to yours. Deep, possessive eyes pinning you in place.
“You don’t want to?” It almost sounds mocking. You know you brought this on yourself. You asked to go home early, you asked to invite friends. Maybe this is payback the way big brothers give it. There’s tears that spring up anyway when his other hand slips under your shirt and he squeezes your soft belly. As the spit he wipes on your lips gets kissed away by an impatient sigh. “I’ve wanted to for such a long time. You wouldn’t ask me to wait more.”
“Yuuta nii. We’re siblings, aren’t we?” The ring glitters. Your hand is clenched into the front of his shirt as warm hands grab down your body— hands you love. Hands you trusted.
“Of course we are. That’s why I’m doing this, silly girl.” Hands that push your underwear down your round hips despite you fighting to keep them up. He giggles when you burn with embarrassment, before pressing kisses to your temple. “I love you. I love you, I love you. Who better to kiss you than big brother?” You shake your head, try to push- he doesn’t budge. Just keeps your body in place under his with his weight.
“G-get off of me, Yuuta! Stop being so weird!” You cry, pushing until he grabs your wrist and forces it down beside your head. He’s still smiling though, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like you’re still a child acting out. It’s that which makes you squirm more, and the glare digs into your forehead when he gets on top of you. “Stop~ I don’t want to kiss.”
Instead he laces his fingers with your ring hand, as the other patiently flutters down to rub over your pussy. You don’t want to. You don’t. Yuuta just smiles when he tilts his head to regard you, and squeezes your fingers a little tighter. “Rika-chan asked me to take care of you. Don’t get so mad.”
+
It’s getting cooler and cooler and cooler the longer he stands. Pressed in the corner of the sterile, greenish blue atmosphere with white sheets draped over your body. He takes a long, deep breath until the nurse finishes up with the checks, taking freshly drawn blood away in a vial. “You’re the guardian?”
The red stands out against your complexion as your restless sleep drifts deeper— he shifts in his seat to lace his hands together. “Her big brother, yes.”
She doesn’t bother to pretend to care when tapping her clipboard, gives a distracted smile. “The doctor will be here within the next hour, okay? Please wait here until then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Yuuta’s quick not to let the smile quirk up onto his mouth when she’s already walking out before he finishes. As soon as the door falls into lock he gets up from the uncomfortable chair to kneel by your bedside and grasp your hand.
Soft. Small.
He hates to admit that he could spend hours here by your side; but the truth is the truth. He could, and he has. And he will, until it is no longer necessary.
Yuuta kisses your hand with a gentle smile, feeling your heartbeat thump under his lips. You mumble, he swears he can hear his name. “I’m here. Niichan’s here.” He smiles a little more when the soft fingers wrap back around his hand and he watches your expression relax even in your sleep. He can’t help it, the soft thumping against his cheek makes his entire body warm.
You’re so alive, and so close- every cell in his body yearns to be beside you. He kisses the area between your thumb and pointer in an attempt to soothe the feeling of biting down entirely. Instead he clasps your hand with two of his before standing up. “You would have loved Rika.” His mouth tingles. “She would’ve hated you- but you would have loved her. I think she would have been a bit jealous though.”
He dips to press a soft kiss onto your lips, humming softly when your warm breath dusts over his cheeks. “You’re so cute.” A few years ago, you would’ve had visitors waiting for you. “I know you were looking forward to graduation, but I’m still here for you.” He places his hands on both sides of your face to hover over you instead of pulling back, can’t keep himself from it.
“You don’t want to leave your niichan, right?” It’s not your fault that everyone else wants you to move on. He’ll take you just as you are. He has to force himself to pull back before he kisses you again, so you don’t wake just yet. You will. And you’ll cry into his chest about missing your precious graduation, and about being stuck here again, just when you were getting better. He never much wanted you in uni anyway.
From his space sat on the edge of your bed, he can easily see how the blanket squirms. How the motion curls and wiggles until he easily pulls the sheet down your chest, then your stomach.
Two beady eyes stare up at him as he brings his face a little closer. The fly head is still clinging to your stomach, hasn’t moved from where he left it. By now it’s become an accessory every few months. It’s not strong enough to kill you— just barely enough to keep you believing you’re still sick, and that’s all he really needs. You need his care, need him. He resists the urge to pick the thing up at least until he can take you back home.
Instead he nudges it up a little higher, so he can place his palm onto your belly to stroke gentle circles in its place, feeling the heat through the gown. He can feel your heart bounce all the way down your body, it’s so cute. When the little fodder curse crawls onto your chest, lids shooting open as you gasp. “Yuuta nii-” Your eyes are lined red, and as soon as they find him you start bawling.
More than happy to let him hike you up from the bed and into his arms, where you bury your face into his neck. Your hiccups are so cute. It’s easy to kiss them quiet when you don’t have enough breath to ask him to stop. He’s sure this time he could slip his tongue into your mouth and you wouldn’t say a thing.
All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#okkotsu yuuta#yuuta x reader#jjk yuuta#yuuta smut#tw.pseudocest#tw.grooming#tw.noncon#tw.yandere#tw.dark content#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu yuuta#🍯.honeypot
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So anyway my hot take about the bit where Sunday is taking you on a guided tour through a dramatic play about the history of Penacony is that the confusion of him narrating over the story so you can’t parse what’s goin on is that it’s actually an EXCELLENT creative choice in interactive storytelling actually, because that whole scene isn’t really about Penacony’s past, present, or future, it’s about cult programming. Sunday’s goal is not for you to witness a dramatization of Penacony’s history and form your own thoughts and opinions about it, his goal is a last ditch effort to get you to share HIS specific perspective.
He talks over the story to tell you what’s happening, giving his conclusions from the get-go and sometimes even saying things that seem to directly contradict what he’s speaking over, but by the time you can even parse it, it’s gone and you’re left with little to do but move on. It’s overwhelming and makes it very difficult to form a coherent thought about it, much less a proper refutation to his arguments. It is a tactic intended to melt your brain and repeatedly hit it with a hammer of his view - the only reasonable view. So reasonable that it doesn’t even seem to occur to him that someone might have an opposing interpretation that’s logical, (more on this later,) he’s not open to new ideas, he is so completely and utterly set in his philosophy that he takes a chance in trying to hold your hand through it and explain it to you because he believes that if he just talks you through it, you’ll see the light. He is trying to convert others into to accepting the Order. Inducing mental exhaustion combined with repeating a specific philosophy, backed with an narrative to make it feel credible over and over again until your brain is too fried to do anything but accept if is a pretty common brainwashing tactic. For the devs to actually manage to induce that direct feeling in the players within the safety of fiction is actually a really impressive feat.
And he probably isn’t even really taking the specific approach he does consciously, rather, he is likely repeating some of the tactics that Gopher Wood put him through. Gopher, probably the closest thing Sunday had to a parental figure after his mother’s death, is an entity with no physical form that’s practically nigh omniscient and omnipresent within the dreamscape, is able to take over the bodies of anyone within the Oak family (possibly without their knowledge or without them remembering it?) and has been looking after Sunday from a young age. Firstly, we see them employing very similar (conversational? Argumentative?) styles. From the scene about the rehabilitated bird, we see Gopher giving a very scientific but ultimately leading explanation of natural selection (and the inherent cruelty of nature that Sunday heavily internalizes and repeats further down the line,) then poses a question that seems very open: what do you want to do about it? What do you want to do with this fucked up little fledgling that can’t fly? In his inner world, Sunday presents you with this, and several other personal experiences intended to lead you to a particular answer, then calmly asks you what decision you would’ve made in his place, in a way very reminiscent of how Gopher himself spoke to Sunday and Robin.
Sunday’s answer, to build a cage for the bird so it could live”no matter what,” happens to have aligned pretty well with the philosophies of the Order, and the quick unfortunate end the bird met when it was later released solidified his desire to protect via control, and proved to be a very formative experience for him. I think it’s highly plausible that this an early illustration of Sunday’s cult grooming already taking root, or at the very least, of Gopher fishing for a kid who’s open and susceptible to it. Gopher, seemingly being Sunday’s sole direct conspirator, is almost certainly the one who guided him on the path of worshipping the Order, while also making Sunday feel like it was his idea.
We don’t see too much in the way of interactions between Gopher and Sunday beyond that, so we’ll have to fill in the gaps - but Gopher is shown to be constantly watching over the schemes Sunday is involved in via possession of birds long before we actually learn who he is. He is always there, always watching, he can instantly overtake the will of others (so long as they’re in the Oak family - but that’s abt 1/5th of Penacony’s population and the group Sunday is a part of and thus most surrounded by,) and despite seeming very calm and reasonable, he’s clearly not above shutting people down through direct metal suppression if their questions start to pose any kind of a threat. When Welt’s questions became too direct and poignant, leading to him and Robin realizing that Gopher and Sunday were followers of Ena rather than Xipe, Gopher quickly commands Sunday to use his own mental suppression powers on them (since they’re both outside of Gopher’s control,) and Sunday does not hesitate. I have to wonder - how many times has Gopher potentially used this on Sunday, or any of the people around Sunday who got a little too close to presenting him with ideas that challenged the Order’s philosophy? It would not only be extremely easy for him to isolate Sunday intellectually while retaining his status as the sole voice of reason, but also likely, given that protection through control and domination is kind of the whole theme of the Order. (Or at least - Gopher and Sunday’s interpretation of it.) We can thus extrapolate that Gopher may’ve likely used other tactics of manipulation and control on Sunday that we haven’t seen, but which Sunday may imitate, such as in the segment with him narrating over the play about Penacony’s history.
And Sunday, clearly, is extremely isolated, long before he tres to pull his little stunt that ends in him as the lone awake person in an eternal dreamworld. Aside from Gopher, who can’t really be called on and only shows up when he feels like it, the only person he has to confide in is his sister Robin, but Sunday has long since internalized his whole “the strong protect the weak, and they protect the weak through control” bit to the extent that he tries very hard to shelter her from the things he sees as dangerous and painful. He doesn’t tell her about what happened to the bird (though she figured it out on her own anyway,) he doesn’t tell her a damn thing about his lil Ena cult, and he most certainly does not tell her about his doubts, his troubles, or the emotional weight of hearing about the worst of humanity (like that guy who sold his kids for a ticket) through the confessional booth day in and day out with a script that just says “Xipe forgives you.”
And Robin is, frankly, way stronger and smarter than her brother seems to give her any damn credit for. She’s left Penacony to tour the universe, and she headed into a warzone to help in the process, got shot in the throat, and kept singing after recovery. She’s experienced so much more of the universe than Sunday has, she’s had actual conversations with people about their problems that were not one-sided and driven by some sort of ulterior motive. She’s been the first to pick apart his faulty logic or catch on to him hiding something every time, (whether she mentions it in the moment or not,) she was the first to realize something was wrong and wake up in the end, and she ultimately rallied everyone to save her brother from himself. Had Sunday confided in her, talked about deeper life philosophies with her, shared his thoughts and feelings with her, not been isolated or isolated himself from her, treated her like she was just as strong as he was, things may have turned out very different.
Who’s really more sheltered? Robin, or her brother who tried to protect her from it all?
#honkai star rail#sunday#robin#hsr sunday#hsr robin#ch.txt#Oops! I accidentally did a whole Sunday analysis#Anyway uhhhh Sunday is actually an extremely well written character#And that part of the story was good actually
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Small Atomic Ask Bomb!!
I've got a bunch of short asks that I'd hate to spam the dash with individually, so I'll just put 'em here, under the cut!!
Content Warning: Long, Brief Discussions of Racism, Misogyny, Grooming, Brief Mentions of Incest and Pedophilia in Fanfiction.
I've always been a hater, and I honestly don't really think it's a bad thing - not as much as everyone says, at least! I think being kind of a bitch about things that don't matter is good for you, actually. Gets the urge to be angry out in a way that's healthier than just snapping at people in critical moments. I also just think being strong and passionate in your convictions is good for you. Being a hater gives you a spine if you do it right, and it fires a gunshot and scatters people you don't really want to be around. It also has the funny side effect of people thinking I take things way more seriously than I do, just because I'm opinionated and will state said opinions clearly.
Big fan of this meme:
This is me.
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I used to peek in there every now and then, just to be nosy. Incest at the top, always. Or straight up pedo shit. Sigh.
Looked in the Mituna tag a couple times. CroTuna fucking nightmare hell dimension, always. Or KanTuna, which I also have gripes with. Or KanMiTula, which I have even more gripes with.
It is my understanding that the state of Homestuck fanfiction hasn't gotten much better since the 2010s. Everyone is wrong and no one is normal. Sad.
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I don't know if the mere act of only making Jade and Jake brown out of all the Kids is Racist on its own, per se, but it is kinda silly in the sense that, you know, John and Jade are siblings, so realistically they'd look similar. And... People absolutely do get racist about it. Like, making Jade and Jake uniquely huge, hairy, threatening, and oddly shaped - gangly in the context of Jade, buff as hell in the context of Jake.
I've seen some SEVERELY racist drawings where Jade and/or Jake were the only hints of melanin in the Kid line up and... Oh my god. It can get to straight up caricature levels. Watermelons and everything. Just comedically racist.
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Genuinely one of the dumbest fucking things in the world. People will say literally anything. Saying Damara isn't Japanese is on par with calling Porrim a fucking Men's Rights Activist. It's a funny little claim people who are grievously wrong say as a condemnation of the Alpha Trolls for no reason. Why. To look smart? To fit in? Dumbass.
Notice how they always have to invent bullshit lies to critique anything instead of just saying things that are true. It really frustrates me how 99.9% of Alpha Troll criticism just isn't at all legitimate when there's some real, genuine issues you could critique. It's stupid horseshit. I hate it so badly.
I don't actually care whether or not someone likes the Alpha Trolls, but at least hate them accurately. Come on.
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@sleepy-apparition
Everyone is so, so quick to turn a blind eye to just how violently misogynistic Kankri is, lmfao. Genuinely, I don't think I've ever seen anyone other than myself bring up the fact that he's an avid Slut-Shamer in the modern day. Other than that, I only really saw older Mituna fanatics bring it up over in the early-mid 2010s, but none of them are around these days.
Genuinely, some of the shit he says is so appalling, lol. Kankri FULLY deserves to get his ass beat.
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I have said this before but I'll say it again - I do not think a Red Romantic Relationship will fix Dirk, or even really help him all that much. Before he gets into a RedRom, he needs some therapy, a break, and mood stabilizers.
However, I'm thoroughly of the opinion that a good BlackRom could work wonders on him, way more than a RedRom would. I think a solid, established Pitch Relationship with, like, Caliborn would be genuinely great for him, both mentally and in a Character Development sense. I hold zero interest in watching Dirk and Jake badly fumble a traditional romantic relationship - that notion is painful to me.
... But I do think I could read a full Intermission's worth of Dirk and Caliborn fucking around and not get tired of it once. They have a fantastic dynamic. It'd be good for Caliborn, too, I think.
This has been my Dirkuu propaganda bit. Thank you.
Also, the Voyeuristic feel of how people handle his Mental Illness. It makes me uncomfortable.
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True. I don't have any other remarks to make about this, you're just correct. True.
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... Fuckin'... Why, though? What- what's the appeal? There's nothing there. I literally cannot conceive any way in which that would be compelling, and I'd say Hal and Kankri are pretty high up there in the list of Male Homestuck Characters I Enjoy.
People will do anything but pay attention to Female Characters for five minutes. God. Lol.
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It's literally just DaveKat 2. I don't think it even qualifies as a Crack Ship when it's just a variant of The Fandom's Most Darling M/M OTP.
It's just a deeply mid RarePair. Crack Ship would be, like, Dirk Strider x Rainbow Dash.
Dirk x RD was a popular Crack Ship, sure, but it's still a Crack Ship on basis of being a Crossover Pairing.
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I can't recall any specific instances of seeing this myself, but I'll believe it. People will do anything except be normal about Vriska. People will fight the war against Vriska on the side of and against Vriska at the same time. People will call her a Huge 8itch but then call her pathetic when she stops being a Huge 8itch.
We love Misogyny, I guess.
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Well, he is based on Tumblr, after all. Particularly how dogshit the politics are on here. Of course he would. He'd do numbers on here, considering his Woke Hate Speech.
It's called Bubblr, by the way. Like, canonically. We do know what it's called.
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It's actually based on the Three Wise Monkeys. You know, that old Japanese Proverb that goes "See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak No Evil"? That.
Kurloz is Speak No Evil, Meulin is Hear No Evil, Mituna is See No Evil.
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Great Question. My personal guess is that he's a little too nuanced for a lot of people to be comfortable with handling. He throws out too much surface-level Bigotry that people aren't willing to ignore because it isn't Racism for many to feel comfortable making him their Blorbo. When Dave says the N-Word and talks about how fucking Racist he is and it literally never gets acknowledged or resolved, that's fine and dandy, but god forbid Caliborn be a Misogynist in the funniest way possible AND have that get acknowledged literally constantly as a problem. The fact that Caliborn isn't a Fuckable White 13-Year-Old Twink means none of his crimes are ever forgivable because he's ugly and unshippable, or whatever.
The fact that he's Mentally Disabled doesn't help. People can't fucking STAND IT when a character is Mentally Disabled in a way that isn't Cute and Consumable, much less a character who is Unconsumably Mentally Disabled AND Complicated. It's just not allowed!!
#homestuck#homestuck meta#homestuck analysis#beta kids#alpha kids#beta trolls#alpha trolls#cherubs#dirk strider#hal strider#autoresponder#kankri vantas#mituna captor#caliborn#jade harley#jake english#roxy lalonde#damara megido#vriska serket#(vriska) serket#meulin leijon#kurloz makara#cw racism#cw misogyny#cw child harm#cw incest#nekro.pdf#nekro.sms
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── PEREGRINE // THREE
Series Synopsis: The ways that you and Seishiro Nagi fall together and fall apart over the years.
Chapter Synopsis: You spend the night at May and Reo’s, and then you go to visit your parents.
Series Masterlist
Pairing(s): Nagi x Reader, Kira x Reader
Chapter Word Count: 5.0k
Content Warnings: unhealthy relationships, cheating, non-linear narrative, probably ooc, angst, nagi is endgame, kira sucks, alternate universe, original characters
A/N: literally twitching every time i have to write a chapter and nagi is just not in it LMAOAOA also l/n family slander is always acceptable here #iykyk
divider credits: @/benkeibear
“When do you plan on going to see your parents?” Reo said. You, May, and him were hanging out in their enormous kitchen as rain poured down outside, hammering against the windows and roof. The storm made you feel nostalgic, and you sighed wistfully as you watched the deluge.
“Probably tomorrow,” you said. “I just want to get it over with. Even without having the conversation, I know how it’s going to go. It’ll be the same as the usual, so there’s no point in delaying the inevitable.”
That probably didn’t mean much to either of the two, considering you had never divulged much to them. You had never been able to tell anyone about the details of your relationship with your parents — it was something secret and rotten that you held close to your chest, a hatred which festered in your stomach and cowered from the light, and you could not bear for anyone to see you like that.
“Do you want us to come?” May said. Although Reo had known you longer, May had always been the more perceptive between the two of them, had always been more in-tune with emotions — both her own and others’ — than anyone you had ever met.
“No, it’s okay,” you said. The last thing you needed was for your parents to see Reo, especially with his own fiancée. It would be the worst outcome, and when the situation was already bound to be so fraught, there was no sense in adding fuel to the fire.
“We’ll drop you off whenever, though,” Reo said. “That’s a promise.”
“No way,” you said. “You guys should be relaxing. The whole reason I came over early was to make things easier for you two during your wedding! I’m not about to cause extra problems. We’ll take the taxi, and then afterwards, I’ll look for wedding dress boutiques so we can book an appointment. We should probably get that over with soon, just in case it takes them time to get the fit altered.”
“If you mention my name, it’ll be finished in seconds,” Reo said dismissively. “Don’t worry about dumb stuff like that.”
“No need to brag,” you said, elbowing him in the side teasingly. “We should give them enough time to make sure the work is of the highest quality. Besides, we have to begin planning somewhere, don’t we? Might as well start with this.”
“But that’s another thing I can’t do with you guys,” he said. You could not help yourself from chuckling at the way he pouted, his eyes swimming with melodramatic tears.
“You’re seriously clingy,” you said.
“Once we’ve picked my dress, you can come help us choose the rest of the wedding party’s clothes,” May offered. “I don’t think there’s any superstition around that, is there?”
“No, it’s just that the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride’s dress until the wedding,” you said. “Everything else is alright. We can probably get the dresses and suits from the same shop, too, so we can kill two birds with one stone. Great idea, May!”
“Thanks,” May said.
“Just tell me when, and I’ll make sure Nagi is free — don’t look at me like that! You knew he was going to be the best man before accepting the maid of honor position. I warned you!” Reo said.
“I know, but I just…I mean, do you think he’s going to offer any valuable insight? Beyond saying something like ‘oh, this suit is less of a pain than that one,’” you said, pitching your voice deeper to mimic Nagi’s low, mild voice.
“He’s going to have to wear it, so his opinion is kind of relevant,” Reo said.
“What happened between you guys while we were gone, anyways?” May said. “It was pretty normal when we left, besides Kira making things kind of awkward, but after we got back from dropping him off, there was a really weird atmosphere. Did you guys talk about something?”
“Nothing in particular,” you said.
“That still means you talked,” Reo said. “May’s right. I thought you said you weren’t going to let the past impact the present, so what was that tense vibe all about?”
“I wasn’t going to,” you said. “He’s the one that brought it up!”
“Brought what up?” May said keenly. You gulped, suddenly feeling like you had walked into some kind of trap, though judging by Reo’s clueless expression, it was one that he, too, was unaware of.
“Um, just, our old animosity,” you said.
“He never disliked you, though,” Reo said. “I don’t know why he’d bring it up when he didn’t even have a problem in the first place.”
May laughed. “You hated someone who didn’t hate you back? So out of character, Y/N. What was the reason?”
“It doesn’t matter,” you said. “If you must know, things were weird because neither of us knew what to discuss without you there, Reo. We don’t have that much in common. The only things are being friends with you and going to the same high school.”
“That does make sense,” Reo said. “If I swear I won’t leave you two alone again, will you be less annoyed about him coming along?”
“If that’s the best deal I’m getting, then yes, I suppose so,” you said, even though a part of you wanted to be alone with Nagi for as long as possible. You knew, though, that it was better if you weren’t. Just the thought of Ryosuke’s face was enough to convince you that this was the only path forward, or, if nothing else, the simplest.
“Consider it done,” Reo said. “Are you sleeping in the guest room tonight?”
“If you don’t mind,” you said, directing the question to both him and May alike.
“It doesn’t bother us,” he said.
“We wouldn’t have let you come over if it was an issue,” May agreed with a yawn. Even though you weren’t that tired, you knew it was late, and unlike you, they had not slept half of the day away. You wanted to keep them up, to talk to them until your throat was dry, but it would be unkind, so you pretended to yawn as well.
“We should probably get to bed, then,” you said.
“Are you sure?” Reo said. “We can stay up a little longer if you’d like.”
“Yup, we can,” May said. You smiled but shook your head.
“No, I’m really tired. I’m just going to call Chigiri so I can see how Sora is doing, and then I’ll probably sleep myself,” you said.
“Okay, if that’s how you feel,” Reo said, beckoning you after him. “I’ll show you where everything is, and you can do what you need to. But be up for breakfast, alright? I’m calling one of my chefs to cook something for us, and if you miss it, I’ll be really angry.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you said.
“I don’t have to do a lot of things, but I do them anyways. Do you know why? It’s because I can,” he said. “So I will.”
“Honestly,” you said, shaking your head. “You’re such a show-off.”
“I have to look impressive for you,” he said.
“Aren’t we past that point now?” you said, thinking back to his ridiculous antics from high school. “I agreed to be your friend a while back.”
“Old habits die hard,” he said, shrugging and sticking his tongue out at you cheekily. You did the same back.
“Yeah, yeah,” you said. “Whatever, rich boy. I’ll be up.”
“Good,” he said, patting you on the head. “Sleep well, Y/N.”
“The same to you, Reo,” you said. “Tell May, too.”
“She’ll probably be over to wish you herself,” he said.
“I’ll stay up until she does, then,” you said.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “See you in the morning.”
“See you.”
The familiar motions of getting ready for the night were the same no matter where you went, serving as a backdrop for your thoughts, which even now had not settled.
It had been worse than you had expected. Seeing Nagi again, being so close to him after all of this time…you thought you could handle it, but you couldn’t. You thought that by finding him again, you could reaffirm your decisions, but the only thing he had done was throw everything into a muddle. As always. Why had you expected anything different?
The rain had not abated by the time you crawled under your sheets and scrolled through your list of contacts, searching for the one you wanted. You wished it would stop. The rain meant something different to you, and for that reason, you wanted it to go away, but the weather was ignorant to your desires, and so it continued to pour.
“Hey, Y/N. Calling already?” The screen only showed the top half of Chigiri’s face; most of it was dominated by the white of his ceiling and the whirring blades of his fan. He blinked his pretty eyes at you, obviously curious about what you needed. “Is everything okay?”
“Is Sora doing alright?” you said. The camera switched to show Chigiri’s lap, which was dominated by your large white cat, who was purring to herself as he pet her.
“We’re watching TV together,” he said. “I think she likes this show.”
“Sora,” you said, your voice shaking. “Are you being perfect for Chigiri?”
“Yes, I am,” Chigiri said, doing an admittedly excellent impression of a little girl. “That was Sora, by the way. Not me.”
You sniffed. “That’s good.”
“Seriously, is something up? You’re acting a little bit freaky,” he said, the camera flipping back to its original position, though he now held it at an angle where you could see his entire face.
You hugged a pillow to your chest, resting your chin atop it when you spoke. “I don’t know.”
“Do you wanna talk about it, or is this one of those moments where I’m supposed to distract you by talking about dumb bullshit?” he said.
“The second option,” you said. You didn’t want to talk to Chigiri about it. You didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, because no one could ever know, and besides, talking about it would make it real. It would mean that you had acknowledged it, and by breathing life into something so nebulous, you ran the risk of it taking on a tangible form that would jam down your throat and wrap around your joints, halting you from moving forward as you ought to.
“Okay. Um, I went for a walk today,” he said. “It was really nice out. I wanted to run, but I decided it was probably better that I didn’t. My neighbor’s garden is flourishing — you know, he doesn’t really seem like the type to be into flower-growing, but it looks nice. Lots of roses, which is surprising, considering the whole muscle-head aesthetic he has going on. Maybe I should try to be nicer to him.”
You giggled despite yourself. “Is this the one with the orange hair who helped me carry your groceries in when you were sick? He seemed like a good person. You should be nicer to him.”
“Yes, that one. It’s not like I’m mean or anything! I just prefer minding my own business,” he said.
“If you say so,” you said. “I am surprised he’s into growing roses and flowers and whatnot, though. I would’ve thought he was exclusively into making protein powder shakes.”
”That’s what I’m saying!” he said. “I suppose everyone has many sides to them.”
“Hm,” you said. “Say, Chigiri. Can I ask you a bit of a random question?”
“If I say no, you’re going to ask anyways, aren’t you?” he said dryly.
“Yeah,” you said.
“Then what was the point of checking first?” he said.
“I knew you’d say yes,” you said. He flushed at the way you had read him so well.
“Okay, okay. What is it?” he said.
“Do you know much about Japanese soccer?” you said.
“Obviously?” he said. “Why’d you even ask that? It’s kind of a given, you know.”
“It was just a prelude. There’s a player — former player — that I was wondering if you had any thoughts on,” you said.
“Which one? If you say Kira, I’m killing you,” he said.
“No, not him. Um, Seishiro Nagi?” you said.
Chigiri raised his eyebrows. “That’s unexpected.”
“What is?” you said.
“You being interested in a player like that,” he said. “He’s Reo’s best man, isn’t he? Why don’t you ask him yourself? You guys must’ve gone to high school together.”
“I want to hear what you think,” you said. “That’s why I’m going to you. Idiot.”
“I’m flattered. Well, keep in mind that this isn’t a professional evaluation or anything; I’ve never even met him, and anyways, I’m just a failed player myself, so I’m hardly qualified to give my opinion on anything,” he said.
“That’s not true, Chigiri,” you protested.
“It is. It’s okay; there’s no need to fight about it. That’s not what we’re talking about. My thoughts on Seishiro Nagi…he was talented, and that’s a fact. If I remember correctly, they used to call him the falcon of the field, right?” he said.
“Yes, I think that’s what it was,” you said.
“He was almost unbeatable. Sure, he had a few losses, especially earlier on in his career, but for the most part, facing off against him was like a death sentence for any team that had that misfortune. A combination of unorthodox thinking and unbelievable physicality made him a genuine threat,” he said.
“I see,” you said. “I knew all of that already, though.”
“Jeez, never satisfied, huh? It’s not like I know him personally, and I was already in college by the time he started really getting big. That’s about the extent of it,” he said. “If I remember, one of my high school friends had a sister who was a fan of his for a bit, but she got over it pretty quickly, since he never went on social media or anything. Guess it’s difficult to have a parasocial relationship with someone so private.”
“Even in high school, he was that kind of guy,” you said, unable to stop yourself from grinning affectionately, though you pushed it back before Chigiri could notice. “No one knew the first thing about him. He was such a mystery.”
“Some people are into that lifestyle, I suppose,” he said. You hummed.
“Guess so,” you said.
“I don’t really know much else, Y/N, I’m sorry. You’re going to have to talk to him if you want more,” he said. Scoffing, you shook your head resolutely.
“It was just a typical curiosity,” you said. “I don’t need more than that. Thanks, Chigiri.”
“Anything for you,” he said.
“You’re making me blush,” you deadpanned.
“It’s only because your cat’s so cute,” he said. “Mind if I keep her?”
“In your dreams,” you said. “Speaking of which, I should get to bed. Talk to you later.”
“Later.”
Only a few moments elapsed between Chigiri hanging up and May knocking on your door. You knew it was her because she was light and hesitant instead of firm and sharp, the way Reo would’ve been, and also because she announced herself shortly after.
“Come in!” you said, pulling your blanket up around your shoulders.
“Are you still talking with Chigiri?” she said, flopping down on the foot of the bed.
“Obviously not,” you said, nodding towards the blank screen of your phone. “I wouldn’t have told you you could come in if I was.”
“That’s true,” she said.
“What did you need to ask?” you said. There were never any secrets between you and May. It was impossible to lie to her when you had lived together with her for years, and conversely, she could never hide her true intentions from you.
“Nothing in particular,” she said. “Just…are you sure you’re going to be okay with this whole maid of honor thing? It seems like there’s way more to your history with Nagi than I realized. If you’re uncomfortable with it, then we can figure something else out.”
“No!” you said, too quickly for it to have been a natural reaction. “No, it’s okay. We’re okay. It was just really sudden today, that’s all. I wasn’t prepared to see him again. Please, I told this to Reo and I’ll say it to you too: don’t worry about me. Your wedding is the only thing you should be thinking about, and even that shouldn’t be a cause of anxiety. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Okay, but you’re my friend, and I don’t want you to be more stressed in my place or anything,” she said slowly. “If it’s a problem, you have to tell me immediately. Reo can pay someone else to be his best man, so it’s not a huge issue.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to him,” you said. “He’s been friends with Nagi for almost as long as he’s known me. I don’t want my own issues to ruin his wedding. Really, May, thank you for the concern, but there’s not a problem at all, and even if there is, I’ll handle it.”
You mimed hitting the air, and she snorted, shaking her head condescendingly.
“What, you gonna fistfight Nagi if he bothers you too much or something?” she said.
“Yeah. You don’t think I can win?” you said.
“I mean, considering he was a professional athlete until a few years ago and you’re…you,” she said. “No.”
“You should have more faith in me,” you said. “I can totally take him on. Bam! He won’t know what hit him.”
You punched your pillow for emphasis, which drew a giggle out of her. Taking the pillow from you, she fluffed it up again before handing it back so you could lay against it.
“I’ll bet on you, then, so you had better win, or else Reo won’t let me hear the end of it for a week or more,” she said. You flexed your biceps.
“You can count on me,” you said.
“On a more serious note, though, and now that Reo’s not around, will you tell me the truth about what Nagi brought up? I know you were lying earlier, but I figured you just didn’t want to make Reo feel bad. I’m sure it must be strange for him, having his two best friends dislike each other,” she said.
You had no interest in lying to her, but you also could not tell her the entire truth, so you decided to go with a version of it all.
“The past,” you said. “I don’t know if Reo’s mentioned it, but we had a very complicated relationship back then.”
“He never elaborated, though, to be fair, I don’t think he really understood it well enough in the first place. He just said that you seemed to really hate Nagi when you all went to school together, but you never told him why,” she said.
“I was embarrassed,” you said with a shrug. “It was an embarrassing reason, and not one that a person like Reo could ever understand, so I kept it to myself. Nagi never really had any friends, bar Reo of course, so no one ever thought any less of me for it.”
“Embarrassing?” she said, and then an idea dawned her, her expression morphing into one of pure horror. “If that overgrown q-tip of a man hurt you at some point, then I don’t care about Reo’s feelings. He’s out of the wedding!”
“Overgrown — what? What are you talking about?” you said.
“You said that it was an embarrassing reason that Reo could never understand,” she said. “What would be more embarrassing than you getting rejected by Nagi of all people? And I doubt Reo’s ever been rejected in his life, unfortunately, so he definitely wouldn’t comprehend that sort of feeling. If it’s the case, then just let me know and I’ll sort things out! Reo has other friends now, so he can just have one of them be his best man. Or there’s always the paid route, like I mentioned earlier.”
“It wasn’t like that,” you said. “Also, there’s no way Reo has other friends, so please don’t lie for my sake.”
“No, he does. If you don’t believe me, just wait for the wedding — you’ll meet them there. At the least, he can always get Chigiri to do it,” she said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Anyways, though, it’s fine. You missed the mark this time, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. Then what was it?” she said. You smiled ruefully and shook your head.
“You wouldn’t understand, either, you know? So it’s okay. Enough of this; he knows better than to bring it up again, and I know better than to end up alone with him again,” you said.
She really was the loyal sort. It was evident in the way she hesitated before nodding, standing up with a furrow to her brow and a pensive twist to her mouth as she headed to the door.
“Y/N,” she said. “Like I said, the instant he pulls something, you tell me, alright? Before you get in a fistfight or anything ridiculous like that, come to me.”
“Got it,” you said. “I’ll remember that. Goodnight, May.”
“Goodnight.”
You wondered when it had come to be that you felt more uncomfortable with your own fiancé than anyone else. Yet it remained that being shoved in a taxi with him on the way to your childhood home was the oddest sensation you had experienced in so long that you found yourself once again longing for the days when it had been simpler, when you and him had gotten along in an easy way.
“Did you have a nice time at May and Reo’s?” Ryosuke said.
“I did,” you said. “Reo made one of his chefs come to serve us breakfast, so it was delicious.”
“It’s a good thing he’s about to be married, or I’d be jealous,” Ryosuke said. “How can a normal guy like me compete with that?”
“Stop,” you said. “He loves May. There’s no competition, and don’t say anything like that in front of my parents.”
“What?” he said in alarm. “Are there rules to this meeting? I was just planning on winging it!”
You held back the urge to groan. He could not be blamed; like Reo and May, he didn’t know what it meant for you to see your parents again, not fully. Why would he expect anything other than a normal meal at their place? But your parents weren’t that type, and if he just waltzed in and expected them to love him based on nothing but your fondness for him, then he was mistaken.
The home you had grown up in had not changed a bit in your absence. The same flowers still bloomed alongside the concrete path leading to the front door, and the bushes were still the exact emerald shade they had been on the day you had left. Foreboding crept in you as you ascended the stairs and pressed on the button for the doorbell, and you reached behind you to grab Ryosuke’s hand as footsteps approached the foyer.
“Mother,” you said when the door swung open, revealing a pair who, too, had not changed from the images of them which you held in your memories. “Father. It’s been a while.”
Your mother’s lips pressed into a thin line, and your father clenched his jaw as he regarded you and Ryosuke. For a brief moment, you thought that he would turn the two of you away, but he only glared at you for a second longer before motioning for you both to come in.
“Y/N,” your mother said. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Did you think I’d miss the wedding?” you said.
“Wedding?” your father said.
“No need to play innocent,” you said, marveling at the nooks and crannies you had once known so intimately. “You know whose wedding I speak of.”
“It should’ve been yours,” your mother said.
“If things had gone the way you wanted, it would’ve been mine,” you agreed. “But they didn’t, and it’s not. It’s Reo and May’s.”
“There’s still time,” your father said. “They aren’t married yet. You could still—”
“When will you give up?” you said, cutting him off, squeezing Ryosuke’s hand — as much for his reassurance as your own. “I flew halfway across the world to escape you and your demands, and the first thing you do upon my return is make more? It’s shameless, father.”
“Why are you back here?” your mother said, presenting a tray filled with tea and biscuits to the two of you. You wavered before allowing yourself to pick up one of the cups, dipping a biscuit in it and chewing on it. The flavor reminded you of your childhood, immediately transporting you to the days when you had not despised your life so thoroughly and extremely. “You made your feelings quite clear when you left, so what brings you back?”
“He wanted to meet you,” you said. “Ryosuke Kira. My fiancé.”
“Hello, sir, madam,” Ryosuke said, bowing his head politely. You had to give him that — he was good at acting, and in this situation, it was a helpful attribute. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”
“You seriously chose him over Reo Mikage?” your father said bluntly. “That’s a decision no one in their right mind would make.”
“Enough about Reo,” you hissed between your teeth before smiling tightly, your nails digging into the back of Ryosuke’s hand. “We aren’t here to go over that same argument. Aren’t you going to congratulate me? Your only daughter is getting married.”
“Does he have a house of his own?” your mother said.
“Yes,” you said.
“A job with a good income?” your father said.
“Well above average,” you said. “It’s secure, too.”
“Then it’s good enough,” your mother said, stiffly, insincerely. “He’s no corporate heir, but he’s a serviceable consolation prize. Congratulations, Y/N. You’ve done better for yourself than we expected.”
They didn’t ask if you loved him, or if he loved you in return, but why would they? It was unimportant. When it came to relationships and marriages, such fickle concepts as love could not be relied upon. It was the ideal that they had pounded into you from a young age: stability. Safety. It was easier to learn to love someone than it was to live a life without certainty. It was easier for you to pretend to be unaware of Ryosuke’s dalliances than it was for you to let go and live the rest of your life alone.
“I don’t think your parents liked me,” Ryosuke confessed upon entering the taxi you had called to take you back.
“Don’t take it personally,” you said. “They’re just upset that things didn’t go according to their carefully laid plans. It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting them to be happy, anyways. That went better than I anticipated, all things considered.”
“What plans?” Ryosuke said as the driver took off towards your hotel. Ryosuke would get down there, and you would continue on to the dress fitting appointment that Reo had somehow already managed to book before you had even woken up.
You weighed the merits of telling him, but came to the conclusion that it would only make things more difficult for you.
“Plans that never had a chance of success in the first place,” you said. “That’s the long and short of it. Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” he said. “What style of dress is May thinking of getting for the wedding party?”
“She mentioned wanting me to have a different dress than the rest of the bridesmaids, since I’m the maid of honor,” you said. “I think she wants it to be my choice.”
“How considerate of her,” Ryosuke said. “She really is such a sweet girl. And so pretty, too! She’ll make a beautiful bride.”
You thought back to what Nagi had said at dinner, your face souring as his cool, snarky tone rang in your mind. It looked like he wanted that waitress, too. And that hostess. And May. But I don’t think he’d go after her, because, y’know, Reo would be pretty mad, and he can definitely afford a better lawyer than Kira can if it comes down to it…
“Reo is lucky,” you said, though all you wanted to do was grab his face and demand he look at you. Aren’t I beautiful, too? Aren’t I sweet, too? You wanted to scream these things at him, but you feared that the answers were not ones you’d prefer, so you remained silent.
“I bet you’ll look great, too,” he said. “Make sure you pick something flattering. I want everyone to see just how amazing my fiancée is.”
“I would’ve done that regardless,” you said.
“Maybe you should FaceTime Chigiri and ask for his advice! We all know how well he can pull off a dress,” he said, snickering.
“That happened once, and you need to stop bringing it up. It wasn’t even his choice,” you said, though you could not suppress a laugh at the memory of the time that you and May had forced Chigiri into a dress so that you could sneak him into a Halloween party with you.
“As you wish,” he said. “Looks like this is my stop. Text me when you’re on the way back!”
“Okay,” you said. “Wait. Ryosuke.”
“What’s up?” he said.
“Can I, uh, send you pictures? Of my options? So you can help me choose?” you said, hating how uncertain your voice sounded, the cracking hinting at your true meaning — tell me. Tell me what I will look worthy of you in. Tell me what it is you want from me.
“Can’t you just pick on your own?” he said. “I was planning on taking a nap and then going to eat. I won’t really have time. Ask May or Reo if you’re stuck.”
It had been a foolish idea to begin with, and as the taxi you were in accelerated away from him, you cursed yourself for even trying. After all, if a simple dress would’ve been enough for your fiancé’s eyes to remain on you, then they never would’ve strayed in the first place.
taglist (comment/send an ask to be added): @mariyumemi @naatggeo @prettyarsxnist @noble-17 @rinitoshisgirl @stuckindreamland06
#nagi x reader#nagi x y/n#nagi x you#nagi seishiro#bllk x reader#bllk#blue lock#reader insert#modern au#peregrine#m1ckeyb3rry writes
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My sister, who is a fan of Jude, says to me, Why does Jude look so meek in his prince card? With a gentle look and coiffed hair. However, I see that according to the voice lines, he is still the same Jude as always
His Hair- The story that Cybird announced as the plot of these cards is that he is attending a ball and must look the part of a noble to get close to the other nobles for info. Our messy-haired Jude of course would naturally groom his hair, in order to fit in more.
That look on his face - At first glance, I thought the same. Jude looks very subdued, but that’s because he’s also playing the part of nobility. However, knowing his character and how much he hates nobility, coupled with the fact that he’s such a tsun-tsun, I think he looks more uncomfortable in these clothes and his prince-like behavior than just being meek. Still, Jude can be gentle when he wants to be, and perhaps he’s trying his best to be so here. (Everyone’s perspectives about this can vary.)
About his lines - I’m not fluent in JP, and it’s hard to translate the nuances, but in card line 1, Jude seems to start off using his elegant, “Queen’s English”, which is proper English, but switches to his usual manner of speaking when the MC is questioning him. (That’s my take on it).
Also (and this is just me using my imagination along with knowing what I do about his character), I feel like he would be saying these lines in a way only the MC can here while they are surrounded by dozens of others at a ball, otherwise they’d blow their cover.
Just imagine: MC’s wincing through the pain trying not to make a fuss while holding onto his arm as he escorts her, and when she falters because she rubs against a sore he says, “Oi, put all your weight on my arm. I know your feet hurt. If you look like you’re gonna cry every time ya take a step, I'll kidnap ya.”
And I agree with you no matter what he wears or how he acts, Jude is still Jude. As you can tell, he enjoys seeing our MC us cry so much he’d want to kidnap us for it😌
Sorry for the word salad!
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It's Kawaii~Chan time
I am gonna ramble about my rewrite so yknow, enter the theater with caution
I just wanna start off by saying I renamed her to Hanami, which is the Japanese word for flowers viewing, more specifically viewing cherry blossoms. I figured this fit her more "cutesy" design as well as her usually pink and white color pallette. Also excuse me if they look bad, these were made a bit ago and I, for some reason, decided it'd be best to use the mirror tool the entire time
So, for her Phoenix Drop High uniform I just redesigned the uniform and gave her the same every girl will have. I changed it to have a blazer and a longer skirt like actual school uniforms in America although I kept the socks, loafers, and bow because those all fit, I'm just also giving everyone the same pair of socks.
Her season 1 outfit has been drastically changed. I decided I wanted her to have a more lolita-esque style instead of just vaguely cute, and let's all be real here, her season 1 outfit sucked. So, I gave her a longer, puffier skirt, a shit ton of ruffles, and some cute gloves. I think now is also the time to have a little fun fact section about meif'was. Their nails and hair grow faster than humans, with their nails growing than both humans and werewolves. That's why Hanami has long nails and freakishly long hair
Next up is her adorable Love~Love Paradise outfit. I'm actually super happy with how it turned out and I'm in love with her little buns. Her bathing suit with all its ruffles was made up by me :D
Her Lover's Lane outfit is the one that went the most unchanged because it's honestly my favorite outfit of her's. It just looks the most visually appealing with the addition of dark pink being a primary color. I just changed the dress up a bit with the neckline and added ruffles
Starlight is honestly my favorite. There's just something about color block clothes that itches a scratch in my brain. The giant bow and see-through ruffles also added a lot. You cannot thank me though, I took this design from someone else's swimsuit. Her nails changing for the first time since season 1 and now having blue with the pink is also a nice nod to how she opens up to Zane about not really being herself
When Angels Fall. Oh God, When Angels Fall. I fucking *hate* their "disguises" in When Angels Fall. Buy I'll get into that later, right now, it's just Hanami. I didn't like her outfit much because she had literally never worn pants in the series before and to just suddenly toss her in a pair of jeans and t-shirt? Like it's supposed to show how drap everything is but why would she just have a t-shirt and jeans packed?? Starlight is an island resort and theme park, so most people will be wearing bathing suits, much more breathable fabrics than *jeans* and Starlight merch. That's why I gave her a different bathing suit bottom and a Starlight shirt. It's the least you can do when you're the most visually distinct character. She also is covered in bandages because cats, when stressed, will over groom and can injure themselves. So Hanami picks and scratches at her skin often due to stress so she has very chipped nail polish and is covered in bandages. Also she cut her hair (sad violin noises)
Her final outfit is for my "season 7". Jess hasn't made it but I want to eventually tie up my rewrite, so I'm making one. Me and my girlfriend refer to it as the "epilogue" although it's not really an epilogue, she just called it that once and I can't think of a better name. I gave her essentially a mix of her season 1 and Lover's Lane outfits because why not
Now that her designs are done I get to infodump about her personality (hehe)
She's basically the same as Kawaii~Chan, but I make her a better person. She doesn't manipulate Aphmau into joined her bakesale! She also tones down a lot, so while she still struggles with boundaries, especially when it comes to shipping, she doesn't have a fucking shipping shrine in her basement. She's also autistic in my rewrite, so her not getting boundaries, baking being her special interest, and her masking her behavior to fit what she thinks people want/expect of her all comes from that. Will I maybe end up projecting on her? With the shipping stuff yeah, but only because Aphmau and Kawaii~Chan made me think shipping people together until they stopped being friends with you was normal
So thats it, the exit to the theater is on the right, make sure to throw your trash away on the way out. Have a good day
#aphmau#aphblr#aphmau mystreet#aphmau rewrite#aphverse#aphmau fanart#aphmau kawaii~chan#aphmau phoenix drop high
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While on the subject of Fruits Basket, does anyone else realize how incredibly fucked up Tohru's parents relationship actually is?
If my math is correct, Kyoko, who was in goddamned middle school, was 15 and Katsuya 23. Kyoko was fucking 17 when she had Tohru, while Katsuya was 25.
Holy shit this is fucked.
#idea dump#ramblings of a sleep deprived girl#spoilers#fruits basket#tw: unhealthy relationship#tw: age gap#tw: implied abuse of power#tw: teenage pregnancy#tw: relationship between an adult and a minor#tw: inappropriate relationship#like holy shit katsuya was a creep#kyoko was a vulnerable teen in a bad situation#he was her teacher and confidant#the more you think about it the more it looks like grooming#I hate that it's romanticized by the series#I like to think that if he had lived Kyoko would have realized how fucked her situation is#you can't convince me that their relationship wouldn't have fallen apart eventually if Katsuya lived
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man the dev notes w/ the stormshore tabernacle convo. whatever they're there for it's kind of remarkable how so much of the notes there for her are just textbook abuser stuff.
#tbd#after all the advantages I gave you -- i have the visceral skin crawl reaction its the abusive parent anthem#things that make my skin crawl bruh#it's everything I did for you#child who i groomed#I'm being so magnanimous towards you giving you time == child who i groomed#look at how merciful i am even though my first instinct is that i don't like how you didn't obey me#the dev notes of that convo genuinely make it worse boooy#which well done but also i will throw hands#dming helm pls kill her again#anyway i think it's kind of fascinating that most gods in this game show themselves as these larger than life figures but mystra?#you are seeing the person who did that to gale you are seeing that person#that person came to him as a child#like that divine separation has just not been there#esp with the build up#where she first dispatches elminster and then again when he tells you about the grant but at the end it's just her in this human figure#i genuinely feel like it deliberately strips that divine separation away & its another layer of insidiousness on her part#it's grounded in the sense of the damage she'd done to gale idk i am waffling but its just something about it is worse when it's so..wow.#idk i think in this game? i think she's not written like the other gods in this game and i think it makes her worse not more sympathetic#bg3 spoilers#abuse tw
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some ccs are just straight up nuts there’s no other explanation
#saw a comment on r/dwt2 and it made me look into the moonzy/draggie situation#this freak accused him of having ‘grooming tendencies’ when he was YOUNGER than her#he showed all their DMs and it was just reciprocated flirting ??#he was initiated more but it seemed reciprocal to me?#she just got mad at him bc he replied to one of her tweets where she was flirting with Karl with ‘ouch’#<- replied in DMs I mean#I guess bc she thought the flirting was a joke ??#how is this an ‘experience’ you need to speak up about im loosing my mind#‘guy flirted with me I flirted back but I wasn’t really interested pls show ur sympathies and like and subscribe🥺’#and in her statement she was talking about an anon who came out about their experiences prior#saying they had been groomed but draggie had fully debunked that years ago#so idk why she was bringing that up ??#and ofc you have aim.sey and max and sniff in the replies with their heart emojis#straight up nuts I’m losing brain cells here#btw she’s the one who said something about how a lot of ccs didn’t support her#including big ones from that ‘stupid mine.craft server’ (meaning dsmp obv)#just nuts straight up nuts#negativity#like I have to be missing something (and if I am pls tell me but I don’t think I am???)#because saying this cringe flirting with someone YOUNGER THAN YOUUU is ‘groomer tendencies’ is fucking nuts#it’s just what is with these people like what’s wrong with them#why does mildly uncomfortable experience = horrible predator we need to inform the public about bc they’re a danger to society#sorry I’m done I’m just actually upset lol
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sometimes i wish i could just. reach through the screen and slam a pro.shipper's head down at least once because they are just so dumb and maybe the action would cause some important neurons sleeping on the job to actually get to work. they would almost be sad if they weren't so disgusting. they gotta have a combined IQ of 5 at this point like...
#scor’s rambling#tw: csa#tw: child abuse#rant in the tags#i don't argue with them bc they just seem to forget that children can easily be groomed and tricked apparently?#i remember when they would say “its not gonna make anyone act this out and if they do its not the creator's fault”#like? what kind of logic is that in regards to pedophilies???? dumbasses#and then they pull out the “but i was abused as a child this is how i cope” right. because tagging your trauma with pro''ship is totally go#help you and not easily attract people who literally just wanna get off at the thought of a kid being abused like that?#like you are making it worse for yourself and every possible child i don't know how they don't see that.#thats like me tagging my posts about my eating struggles with pro-eati.ng disorder tags. hello? inviting the devil to my house basically.#and then people wanna act like this is just some internet drama... no man its. way more serious lol#and they focus on the most extreme people who are against them too as if that makes them look better? like another type of group i know.#“see they think reading about murder makes you a criminal” you think cp is just fine and dandy... which one is more serious here.#like being an..ti censo..rship doesn't mean what they mean. they probably don't even give a damn about minorities being censored#unless they are child minorites to exploit i guess
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all the shit about content creators being outed as groomers is so fucking exhausting b/c i think a lot of people fail to understand the effects grooming has on people and what it looks like. because you’ll see victims defending themselves trying to explain that yes this counted as grooming to an audience composed of this ignorant mass of people that do not care, and it’s hard to see that and then look at your own experience and ask yourself. do i have to fight to defend this, too? it didn’t look like these other people’s experiences. because my groomer wasn’t a celebrity, he was just a person, and these people have to fight so hard to show that there’s a power difference with these abusive streamers and youtubers, but what if my groomer didn’t have that? like it’s just very distressing and i am attracted to it like a moth to a flame for any semblance of solidarity but every piece of it just reminds me. if tens of people have to step up to call this person shitty, with receipts and everything. then what do i have to do. you know?
#neg#vent#nightmare.discourse#grooming tw#the only reason for YEARS i believed my own experience is because other people who saw it called it grooming#if they were not there i simply would not think the other person was in the wrong and i would still be speaking with them#and i've been looking back at messages trying to figure out where it went wrong.#which is partially why i hate how after someone is outed for being a horrible fucking person everyone assumes the#'how could their fans still believe them?' like i get it but. i still believe the apology that my abuser sent#i stayed up trying to figure out whether or not i should have forgiven them#i dunno. i dunno. watching more videos of the person who did a ukulele apology. you know the one#not videos FROM her but videos ABOUT her. and just.#trying to feel real.
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honestly guess i shouldnt be surprised abt tommy making another grooming joke. disappointed for sure. i hope someone sits him down and tells him to fucking quit it. i hope literally anyone who is close to tommy tells him why he needs to stop making those jokes instead of just going dude dont do that so maybe this time it sticks. i hope he realizes at some point that dream isnt someone to look up to and never will be. but at this point im not surprised. disappointed but not surprised
#grooming ment#cc!tommy crit#uugghhhh.#hey dream stans is this really the type of environment you want to support.#because we all know dream only benefits from this. hes not going to tell tommy to stop. the more jokes about it#the easier he'll get away with it.#mask mews#negative#as a reminder im not going to tag anything related to grooming as discourse or as a 'situation'#i personally do not like putting it on a similar level to fandom drama. this is real life shit with real life consequences#tommy is going to make his younger fans think that this is okay#and hes going to encourage groomers and anyone else who sees it as a joke to consume his content#the only people who benefit from making grooming jokes are groomers and its really fucked up that anyone in his circle is standing by#as he makes gross jokes and downplays the trauma of grooming victims so he can continue to pretend like dream is someone#to look up to
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Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.
Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?
Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)
A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.
You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.
And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.
We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…
What?
No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.
You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”
Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.
Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.
You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.
Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.
You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.
Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-
“Oh? Still open?”
“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.
And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?
“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”
“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”
You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”
Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”
Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”
“Congratulations, Mr…”
“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”
You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”
“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”
What?
You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”
“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”
There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”
Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”
Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”
“...you do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”
“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”
And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.
“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”
That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”
And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”
You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”
---
And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.
“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”
“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.
You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”
Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.
“Alright. Plan B, then.”
Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”
Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”
At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”
“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”
“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”
It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?
“Fine.”
The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”
And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”
He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.
Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.
And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.
You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”
“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”
“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.
“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”
Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”
With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.
“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.
Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”
You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.
“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”
That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.
“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”
It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.
“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”
Your home, for the next month. At least.
And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.
“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.
“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.
“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”
It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.
“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.
Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”
And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.
“Ichiji.”
“Yes, young master.”
“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”
“Of course, young master.”
---
Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.
Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.
Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…
“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.
Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”
“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”
He…didn’t sound like he was joking.
Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”
At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”
“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”
He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”
“For the divorce.”
And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.
You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.
“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”
And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.
You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.
But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.
The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”
Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”
“Only for you.”
Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.
Stammering out, “Corny.”
“Only for-”
“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.
Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.
Gathered here - for you.
Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.
“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”
My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”
It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.
He wins.
“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.
It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.
Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.
Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”
You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”
“A waitress, she said?”
“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”
“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”
The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”
“Mother, be quiet or-”
“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”
Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.
Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”
Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”
“My wife and I are leav-”
“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”
Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.
His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”
Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.
“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”
Thud!
It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.
“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.
He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.
“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”
You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”
What the fuck happened?
He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.
Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.
“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.
“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”
You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”
That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.
---
“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.
The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.
You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”
He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.
“It’ll be alright.” you nod.
And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.
---
Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.
The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.
But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.
“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.
Something else also happened - something different.
Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”
“You wish.”
“Maybe I do.”
Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-
“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”
Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”
The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”
“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”
You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”
And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”
Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.
“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”
Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.
Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.
“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”
Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.
Were you going insane?
Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”
“Thinking of me?”
Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.
“Satoru?”
His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.
Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.
Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”
A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”
Run away. Run away. Run away-
There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”
“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”
You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”
“So go with me instead.”
“What if-”
“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.
Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”
And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.
It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-
And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.
“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.
“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”
He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.
“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.
“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”
He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.
But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”
And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”
“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.
“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”
Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”
You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.
“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”
Rip!
The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.
Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”
“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”
“You’re awful.”
“And yet you married me.”
With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”
He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”
You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.
Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.
“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.
“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”
You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.
And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?
Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-
“Sh-shit. Toru-”
“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”
“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”
He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-
“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.
“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”
And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”
“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”
“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”
One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.
“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.
And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.
Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.
“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”
You weren’t going to make it out alive.
Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”
And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.
“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.
“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.
And he sees right through you.
“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”
You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.
Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.
“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.
And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”
You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.
Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”
“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.
You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.
And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.
“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”
You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”
“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”
“All yours, Toru.”
And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.
With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.
“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”
Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.
And exactly where you wanted to be.
You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.
“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.
“Close?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”
And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.
Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.
And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.
You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.
And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.
Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”
“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”
Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”
“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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😬
the "leader" is more like "leaders". normally one might think of stalin or something, but hes just a blueprint, the actual leaders are the ones at the top of the social pyramid within these spaces, such as popular tankie blogs
this ones obvious. i dont feel like i need to say anything. we've all seen how ppl act on here when you question any of their beliefs or the effectiveness of them, etc. and if you challenge them at all or say you dont agree, suddenly you're a horrible person or even a bigot of some form
i underlined "denunciation sessions" bc theres a big emphasis on here to denounce the old "unwoke" parts of your life. not so that ppl should change for the better, but because there's a pressure to change immediately and throw all your old beliefs out the window without even really unpacking them. its their way or the highway and you have to choose right now and its not a multiple choice test. i also underlined "debilitating work" bc theres an emphasis on reblogging things to "spread awareness" or whatever as soon as it pops up on your dash, and if you dont, you're a horrible person, etc.
while i dont really think many of the options given necessarily apply, they sort of do. you dont need "permission" to date, but you'll be berated for dating the "wrong type of person". you'll be told to change or quit jobs if the job does something tumblr communities dont agree with, even if you need the job, and usually they'll call it "boycotting" to make it seem more legit. they'll discourage you from moving to any state or country that they deem isnt progressive enough.
this one goes without saying. instead of it being some random air of superiority, it's "we're the most moral, correct and progressive people" superiority
this one also goes w/o saying, people on here think incredibly black and white all the time, its definitely encouraged.
this one ALSO goes without saying
this one is obvious as evidenced the past two months. everyone saying "believe victims" and that "rape is always bad" in the past but then coming in to defend hamas' actions at every turn and deny the rape or even say that "if it did happen it was justified". which is a fucking wild way to think about the world and you should be locked up.
also obvious. tankies love to guilt trip. nevermind if it backfires on them and makes ppl resent them and move to the right after. i mean, after all, all they cared about was the power they had in telling ppl what to do, not actually giving a fuck about anything or having any convictions.
yes bc if you interact with anyone ppl on tumblr generally dont like, you'll also be shunned. if you have family members who aren't "progressive" enough and you still accept them into your life and hang out with them, even if you dont necessarily want to or dont necessarily like them fully, the fact you still interact with them at all is bad, apparently.
obviously, bc who would want to stick around a place like this once they realize whats really going on. its why they demonize ppl like me or anyone who questions them too much and pushes us to side, to use us as examples for the new, younger people coming in that they get to manipulate and tell them to avoid you and avoid being like you, since you ever dared to question them. they'll call you whatever they need to, make bullshit up about you, JUST to lure ppl in and tell them how much better they are than you, or that if you listen to them they can avoid being like you.
i mean. yeah? maybe it doesnt seem that way but. ppl asking for money all the time through paypal or whatever? or the overall goal of "taking the billionaires wealth and redistributing it", while its a statement i generally agree with, i dont trust that the people saying it will be that responsible, and would probably just hoard money for themselves, and deprive it from people they "dont like" on purpose, almost as revenge for a real or perceived slight, or just bc they dont like someones "bad vibes".
yeah you're apparently supposed to take having tumblr mutuals very seriously, treat them like best buds even though you've probably never messaged eachother or messaged eachother twice about inane things you saw on tumblr. its not a total stranger bc its someone on tumblr so its fine actually! see, they say they're queer and a leftist in their bio, totally safe! thats all it takes! also activism is reblogging or something ig
if you go to other sites, you're looked down upon. if you make friends outside of tumblr communities, you're looked down upon.
people feel like w/o the communities they've built on tumblr, they have no safety net elsewhere, probably bc they've cut contact with WAY too many people, probably plenty of people who didnt even deserve to be, and probably bc they disagreed on like 1 or 2 things. regardless, they cling to the tumblr "safety" net for dear life. "if no one else got me, i know tumblr got me, heres my paypal" essentially. you cant trust the world outside of tumblr to take care of you never of course, its all bad and horrible and can never be fixed or useful in any capacity, etc. burn it all down and start it again with tumblr users in charge and then it'll be perfect, or so they think.
#cults#ex cult#tankies#yall make progressives look so so bad.#yall actively hurt leftism at every angle.#the way ppl on this website act is no joke part of the reason why conservatives think leftists are in a cult.#its bc the more extreme of leftists kinda fuckin are#sure conservatives make shit up about us too like the whole 'child grooming' shit but they're still not exactly wrong for seeing#some of yall as culty. idk what to tell you. they just take advantage of the perception of the culty part of the left to push a narrative#about leftists in general and sprinkle in conspiracy theories for THEIR own rw cult to keep them in check and to maybe lure in#people who are paranoid- bc ppl have every reason to be paranoid of the culty parts of the left- but conservatives take that and then also#add in a couple lies for their own agenda and benefit. a mom could be concerned about drag queens talking to kids and maybe stumbled#upon kink discourse- maybe even possibly on here- and found minors interacting with the discourse and then goes to the right and they#say that 'yes the left wants to groom your kid into becoming gay and doing 'HEINOUS' 'brutal' kinks! and drag queens are part of it!'#or whatever tf along those lines. and then maybe shes still on the fence about it but some extremist on the left being ironic#embraces all these accusations and shitty perceptions and says they're true to- in their minds- push the right ppl away#even though theyre also pushing ppl on the fence to the right. maybe they do it out of irony or bc theyre just tired of the bs but either#way feeding into it actually doesnt help- not to surprise you! gotta be more careful around paranoid ppl.#your apathy about how you come off isnt always a good thing.#a better example might be when conservatives go 'oh the left is so horrible and violent' and ppl in the middle are like 'really?' and look#over to us for a moment and see the assholes in the back going on about gulags n shit along those lines- only confirming the bias#made against them.
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Nanami Kento
TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, inexperienced reader, virginity loss, size-difference, abuse of power, lies and manipulation, captive darling, age-gap
AN: thinking about a pervy sex therapist Nanami~
fem reader
You started coming to his home office once a week.
Unsure of it all, in the beginning, you were so nervous. He looked so strict – sitting opposite you in his dark brown leather chair with such a tight expression on his face.
But you came around to like him soon enough.
He was a nice man. Serious but tender with you – putting out freshly baked muffins on the coffee table and always giving you a warm cup of chamomile with vanilla and honey before getting started.
And he was knowledgeable too – had that mature air about him that seemed so polished and proficient you couldn’t help but hang off every word like it was scripture.
When he told you to stop wearing bras because they hinder natural breast growth, you listened, and when he said that keeping your pussy hairless was important for hygienic purposes, you believed him because you trusted him.
He diagnosed you with virgin anxiety and has been so patient with you ever since, helping you overcome it.
Professional enough to practice with you. Sticking a gloved finger inside your pretty pussy when you’re propped on his examination bed, testing out your tightness with words reassuring you that you just need to wait and allow your body to provide the wetness – smiling at you kindly, that way old men do, more with his eyes than his lips, when you’re weeping with slick enough to accommodate all three of his lengthy fingers inside you – squeezing on him so tight.
You gush, shaking your head while spluttering apologies when you cum around them, but he just rubs your clit slowly, with veteran steadiness – telling you it's only natural and healthy for a young woman like you to be so sensitive under a man's touch – that it’s nothing to be ashamed or scared of – on the contrary, it’s something you should feel very proud of.
He’s also kind enough to give you extra sessions – at least three times a week at his home office – sometimes even breaking his own rules, treating you to a house call, coming to your apartment for a nice little chat.
He even assigns you daily exercises for you to do on your own – though he encourages you to call him so he can guide you through it. Instructing you to wet your fingers in your mouth first before you touch yourself down there.
He listens to your little moans filtered through the phone – bated breaths and whimpers as you get yourself all bothered and needy for more.
He tells you to turn on the camera so he can see if you’re doing it right, and you listen – placing the phone in view of your tiny fingers struggling to reach and stuff your cute cunt.
He praises you on your good job – his own camera off, for obvious reasons – he can't have you seeing his raging shaft just yet, or how he jerks it to the sight of your tight little cunt. A deep furrow between his brows and his jaw locked tight, resolute in his plans of coaxing you into giving him your first time. He groans just thinking about it, splurting his load into his fist, listening to you moan for him. “This feels funny, Nanami-san~ Is this right? ~ Please, Nanami-san, teach me~”
He's been coveting your virginity for months now – grooming you – making you pliant and gullible, and soon, all his patience and hard work would pay off.
It’s cute that you don’t know it yet… but your pretty little pussy is all his.
He expertly works it into your sessions as an exercise. One he promises you’ll benefit from. Telling you your condition can be blamed on never having studied a real grown man’s cock – that, because it’s such a foreign thing to you, you end up fearing it.
He reminds you how this is a safe space – tells you that all he cares about is your wellbeing – as he sets himself next to you on the couch, his thick thigh next to yours, while buckling up his belt and zipping himself free – taking his fat erection out for you to lay your innocent eyes on.
“Here it is.” He clears his throat with a rusty sigh, sounding relieved when his manhood springs free, standing proud and fat.
His veins flex along his arm beneath dark blonde hair as he strokes the length lazily – up and down slowly. Making old noises – heavy sighs and hums – dragging the foreskin back and revealing its plush mushroomed head.
You take it in with doe eyes.
“Don’t be shy. Tell me your thoughts.”
You swallow thickly at the assignment, blinking out of your stare. Shocked and embarrassed, though curious, but also a little grossed out – you’re not sure what feeling you end up with. “Uhm- It’s very… big.”
He chuckles low at that. “Come on, you can do better. What else?” He urges you, offering another deep but light-hearted laugh. “You can be honest. It’s a little funny looking, huh?”
“Yeah-” You giggle lightly in return, though you’re still somewhat uneasy – sitting as though you plan on leaving, but staying nonetheless, at the edge of your seat – eyes glued to the chubby member, studying the curve of its spine and the veins forking their way up to its head.
“Feel up to touching it?” He asks, and your eyes snap to his – lined with crow’s feet and something so trustworthy.
But still, you promptly shake your head in embarrassment. “Oh- no, thank you, Nanami-san-” But he’s already taken your smaller hand in his, pulling you back by guiding it to his lap.
“No, no, little one- this is what we've been training for. You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He scolds you, voice both dismissive and reassuring all at once. “Here- feel it.”
He wraps your tiny fingers around the stout shaft and overlaps your hand with his, helping you find the rhythm – stroking it nice and slow.
“There you go, just like that. Good.”
You hesitate at first. Giving your lip a soft bite while thinking about his previous words.
Was he right? Are you scared because you've never looked at or touched a real penis before?
You don't want to be a virgin forever – it's embarrassing as an adult – it makes you still feel like such a silly little girl.
So... if Dr. Nanami says that this will help you overcome your fears, then you suppose...
You'll do it.
You gulp and follow his movement – up and down the large and lengthy pole.
It's so warm – pulsing in your grip, twitching at your soft touch. Skin so thin, almost rubbery, holding something much tougher than you’d imagined.
In your hand, it’s a lot bigger as well. You can’t even reach your fingers around the thickness to touch your thumb.
“All of this goes inside me?” You ask, under your breath – swallowing thickly while he leads your dainty hand downward into the hair around his base, then up to the wet tip, which pilled and trickled with white pearls getting caught between your fingers – warm and sticky.
“That’s right, every inch.” He answers – voice relaxed – pleased by how well you were doing. “Does that scare you?”
You bite your lip and rub your thighs together. “A little…”
“But it makes you feel a little warm, too, hm?” He suggests. “Makes your mouth wet? And also, that soft place between your legs?”
You make a nervous sound, digging your nails into your knee, where you let your other hand rest awkwardly.
He hums again with a soft chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one. It’s a good thing.” He ensures, encouragingly squeezing your hand underneath his while lifting the other up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear – before sliding it across the back of your neck. “Let's see you be brave and give it a taste.”
You hesitate again – this time a little more decidedly. “I don’t think I can-” But Dr. Nanami is strong, keeping your neck in a pinch as he guides you down into a bow.
“It’s alright, I’m here to help you. Just open your mouth, and I’ll show you how.” He insists soothingly. Spreading his thighs out further while laying your head down on his lap, hips moving languidly when brushing his shaft up between your lips.
It’s so big, so hot, pumping with warmth where you kiss it on the side on a particularly fat and throbbing vein.
He lifts you up slightly and angles the tip into your mouth, creating a cute bulge in your cheek where he rests his hand to keep you down when you flinch at the salty tang getting caught by your saliva. The taste quickly coats your entire tongue.
“Mmh- that’s a big girl~ getting her first mouthful of cock.” Dr. Nanami sighs with a groan, dropping his head back against the couch cushions while pushing up into the pouch of your cheek in lazy thrusts. It strains – makes you feel like it might poke through and make a hole.
He lets it settle there for a moment, enjoying the wet warmth and the unsure movements of your sweet tongue – not knowing where to go with all the space occupied by his meat.
But then he tangles both hands in your hair, gathering it all into a neat ponytail. And, lifting your skull up directly above, he sends his cock down your guzzle even when you whine out in meek protest.
“Breathe through your nose and try your best to swallow it down as far as your throat allows.” He instructs, keeping a tight-knit grip around your hair in one fist whilst the other hand slides down to pet your cheek in soothing circles.
Forcing it down your tight little amateur throat even when your jaw feels like it’s unlocking.
“Good girl.” He sighed once he’d wedged himself in all the way until your lips kissed the pubes at his base.
Your smaller hands dent the muscle of his thigh, offering a meager push. Mewing out a “Mrph-” while you gag around the trunk.
He holds you there, roosting inside your throat for another satisfying moment before easing up, pulling you up by your pony.
You gasp, halfway choked on your spit – but he's not much concerned.
“Stand up- let me feel.” He rushes out in a stiff order, ignoring how you cough and slurp for air – forcing you up to stand between his knees.
His firm hands plant themselves on your hips, being the only sturdy thing balancing you as you wobble – unsteady when he tugs your skirt and panties down until they drop into a pool around your ankles.
He then pulls you onto his lap – seating you with your back leaning against his chest with his cock gliding up through your inner thighs, rubbing against your bare cunt.
You’re still light-headed, bracing yourself against his broad chest while he keeps one thick arm strong around your waist – holding you snug. The other jerks his manhood, tapping it against your clit in soft spit-wet slaps.
“Let’s see how it feels inside you.” He grunts against your ear, resting his chin-stubbled jaw in the dip between your neck and shoulder – looking to where he has your thighs spread over his own.
“N-no, Nanami-san-” You manage to squeak out softly with a voice both teary and hoarse from choking. “Please- I’m not ready-”
But he doesn’t listen – and any struggle you try to inflict ends up aimless where you’re barred beneath his arm – strict and tough with brawn like it’s a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride.
“I think you're more than ready for it. Trust me.” He’s growling now – so menacingly, you don’t dare speak against it. Only watching the glossy veiny beast with bleary eyes while he rubs through your pussylips with the fat plush bulge topping it – catching your clit and making you gasp before zoning down to your pretty little twitchy hole.
You whine when it’s forced to stretch open as he nudges himself inside the pill-sized opening despite your effort to climb away from it.
“It hurts, Nanami-san!” You cry, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
“Your virgin pussy will understand it soon. Don’t worry.” He dismisses – continuing to ease his thickness into the tautness, knowing you must be feeling close to tearing apart once his head’s finally swallowed in with a pop, followed by his inches bullying through you one by one, each feeling like a painful mile.
You cry out, nearly screaming, “Please, Nanami-san! Take it out- it’s too much-” worming on his lap, trying to wiggle it out.
But he has you under reigns, and your struggling only results in him sinking inside you faster. Now, so deep you feel him nuzzle against your womb – and still it keeps sleaving itself until it curves against your walls and pudges out in a cute belly bulge.
“We've trained for this. You need to allow your body the time it takes to get comfortable.” He coos, sounding less on edge now that you’ve taken him inside your comfort.
His chest rumbles with satisfaction against your back as he sits there relaxed, bouncing you slackly but not too much just yet.
He keeps you seated but lifts his other arm to tug off your tiny T-shirt.
“Here, let's take this off. It’ll help.” He excuses, and you’re a little too desperate for the relief to refuse – listening to the kindness in his voice and lifting your arms in hope, letting him fling it off.
Only in socks now. You throw your head back and whine when he twists one of your pretty nipples into a sore nub – chest arching from the contact. The arm holding you in place slides a hand between your thighs and starts circling your cute button, flicking over it with a gritty fingerprint.
The friction makes your belly bloom all sorts of colors, making you lock and quiver around that big thing he has nestled inside you, throbbing against your womb as he only gently bounces you on his lap – stretching your little pussy out generously as it suckles him so very sweetly – so very wet, drooling on his lap –squeezing him oh-so-snug.
You feel sticky after a while of twisting and refusing. Feeling so full and feverish. Neck wet from tongue and lips – so wet, spit is running slow trails down your chest, cool in the chilly open air of his home office.
You still think you want to stop, but you’re not as tense anymore – resting prettily against his chest. Moaning for each swirl he does over your budding clit – having quaked with pleasure a whole of three times already, gummy walls rippling all along his shaft as you softly loll your hips on him in return.
There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you – having drooled form where it seeps around the tight edges of where he has you stuffed air-tight, running down his balls to gloss the leather seat beneath.
He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for the real thing.
It’s almost unfair – how easily your smaller body is held in his hands. Maneuvered so effortlessly as he lifts your thighs up against your chest, then spreads them wide.
He hooks your knees on his elbows and braids his fingers behind your neck. It's an awkward position, but you’re completely locked in it. Unable to do a thing except wail with moans once he starts pistoning his fat man-cock up inside you.
It’s way worse when he stands up – bouncing you in the air – holding you folded against his chest, your legs dangling over his arms, jumping as he pounds his meat inside you, stuffing your cunt full on every deep thrust – stabbing your poor stomach until you’re screaming and squirting from the pressure.
Feeling you soak him is the last straw – so tight while spraying a hot mess.
He sits down again, lifting you off his cock before fanning your clit with four fingers – making you gush out every last drop, screaming while raining on his cock until you’ve strangled it out one final time – left shaking.
You’re then ushered down to the floor, on your knees – the top of your head leveled with Dr. Nanamis's big hand, keeping your face forward as he faps his sturdy thickness at your mouth.
“Open your mouth wide.” He orders, his teeth grit while his bulbing cockhead kisses your lips.
You listen when he gives your little head a shake – rolling your tongue out while dropping your jaw for him.
“That’s a good girl-” He praises, placing his tip on the wet bed of your soft pink tongue, giving his cock only a few more tugs before his balls clenched hard and sent a big fat load through his cock out into your pretty little open mouth.
He groans heavily, almost angrily, squeezing every spurt out – some coming out so heavy it spills up your face and down your chin – but mostly getting caught where you have your lips parted to receive it.
“Good girl.” He repeats, taking in the sight of your painted face – so cute covered in his cum.
He smiles.
“Now swallow it all down. And don’t waste a single drop. It's rich in vitamins young girls like you need to become proper ladies.”
You don’t want to close your mouth – you want to spit all of it out and rinse the rest with toothpaste and water. But the hand petting your head is so heavy, you don’t dare. So you swallow. Sniffling at the yucky taste once it sits warm in your stomach, still so sticky and gross on your tongue.
But Dr. Nanami seems pleased.
“Moving forward, I think you’ll benefit from closer examination.” He says. “I've made arrangements to have you institutionalized here, where I can keep a closer eye on you and offer more frequent assistance. You still have a long way to go before you’re well, little one. I’m not close to seeing the results I need in order to release you from my care.”
You’re still too shocked by the former events to look confused, but the sick feeling in your gut just keeps growing.
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep training, and soon I’ll have you turned into a proper little cock-pet.”
You want to run, but after what you’re body had just been put through, aching and screaming at you like it was your fault – you knew you wouldn’t be able to do much more than crawl, and something about the still fat cock resting its weight against Dr. Nanamis thigh told you he wasn’t done with you just yet.
“Give my cock some time to rest, and we’ll try it again later.” He confirmed your fears, still with his hand stroking your head like a pet at his feet. “Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me how your sweet pussy liked losing its virginity- and how this little face enjoyed getting its first-ever taste of cock and cum, hm?”
sequel
#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere nanami#yandere nanami kento#yandere nanami x reader#yandere kento nanami#yandere kento#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#nanami smut#kento smut#nanami kento smut#kento nanami smut#jjk nanami#nanami kento#jujutsu kaisen#jjk kento#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu nanami
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Text
miguel putting up with his girl’s princess attitude
-
“miguel!” you call out from the bathroom as your fingers delicately fix the straps of your bodycon dress. “can you come here for a minute?”
miguel sighs, this is the third time you keep calling him knowing how busy he is at the moment. work has gotten the best of him, and if reinventing new techs back to back isn’t enough to drain him, he has to keep up with your needs daily.
does he has the courage to say no to you, though? nope. as much as he hates to admit it because it’s embarrassing, he’s scared of you. if the spider society think that Miguel is too frightening then they have not seen you get mad or being a brat.
“coming, baby!” he walks out of his office while taking off his glasses, rolling the sleeves of his henley shirt to his elbows.
the bathroom door is left wide open, immediately seeing you standing before the mirror in a long and tight fitting grey dress that falls just around your ankles. and just like that, his annoyance completely washed off,
he takes a good look at you. eyes slowly observing every single detail of your face and down to your body. the way that dress hugs your curves and accentuate your best assets should be a crime,
God, you’re such a perfection.
“shut your mouth before you catch flies, babe” you jokingly say as your fiancee stares at you with his jaw slightly agape. “mind helping me?”
Miguel clears his throat after, slightly smirking as he shrug his shoulders. he leans against the door way with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving yours.
“you look absolutely divine, mi amor.” he comments, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “is that new?” he points at the dress,
rolling your eyes playfully, you try to keep your composure still. even after three years of dating—now engaged— he still manages to make your heart skips and create butterflies in the pit of your stomach,
“I know” you reply in confidence, winking at him which he chuckles in return. “and yes it is! it’s SKIMS! got it yesterday, does it look good on me?”
he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “baby, you already know the answer to that come on now… you make anything look sexy.” he strides closer to you as he stands from behind you, “now, què necesitas?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips
you find it attractive how he towers over you, and it’s one thing that you love about him. it’s not that you’re petite or anything. but compared to how tall and big he is, you’re definitely tiny.
“straighten my hair for me please? I can’t reach it” you pout at him through the mirror, “just this part right here” fingers move to the back to touch part of your hair,
“ay dios mio, woman… you’re lucky i love you” he teases before grabbing the iron from the sink. “going out with the girls, mami? i assume lunch?” he asks as he starts parting your hair with one hand,
your head shakes, straightening the dress. “no, I’m doing cake testing today and wedding dresses … Darla is bringing three more flavors.”
he stops what he’s doing, giving you a confused look. “alone? cariño why didn’t you tell me? you know I’d come with you” he feels a bit disappointed and now guilty that he’s busying himself with work and instead you’re left dealing with your wedding, alone.
his hand rests on your shoulder and you move yours on top of him. “hey, it’s okay, Miggy… you’ve been so stressed lately i do not want to put more pressure… it was last minute anyway, she texted me this morning.”
“you’re my girl, i would never be too busy for you.” he says almost too fast,
giving him a sincere smile, you nod your head. “yes… i know, baby. trust me it’s okay…plus it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress” you giggle a bit. “we can go over the seating arrangements again together, yeah? i promise” you plant a soft kiss on his finger,
Miguel exhales a sigh, still feeling tiny bit upset that he won’t be there to keep you company. “okay, fine… tell Darla that keep vegan options open for the cakes.”
“noted, honey.” you tell him as he continues to straighten your hair, “is everything okay with work?”
he nods, eyes too fixated on your long hair, not wanting to mess up a single strand. “just running over a few reports and fixing few minor defects on the techs and my suit…the last guy did quite a number on me.”
“hmm i love it when you speak science to me” you comment, watching him laugh a bit at your flirty remark. “but you still need to be careful. i do not want to see my future husband all bruised up when i walk down that aisle or else I’ll leave your ass.” your tone comes off demanding and firm, but it’s only because you care.
“yes ma’am” he replies, setting down the hot object down on the sink before slowly running his fingers through your hair. “there you go, baby” he moves your hair to the front, kissing your cheek and seeing you smile just makes him happy. knowing he’s done a great job.
turning around to face him, you stand on your toes to kiss his lips. “thank you, miggy… I’ll see you later, okay? we can go grab dinner outside and then movie night at 9?”
his heart warms at that and lips stretches into a large grin. “sounds like a plan.” then he lightly slaps your ass as you walk out of the door,
“let me know if there’s going to be bunch of assholes staring at you today, I’ll hunt them down and fucking kill them on the spot.” he mentions as if it’s nothing
and they say romance is dead.
-
cake testing with miggy!
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