Note: Had to wait for a long while until my writing portfolio got accepted before posting it here (I didn’t want administrations to think I was plagiarizing or stumbling across this blog😅). This story was an original inspired by Sanzu, since the symbolism goes hand-in-hand with his background story. So, here’s the fanfic version.
Pairing: Sanzu (Bonten) x Reader/OC
⚠️: SFW, angst (?), physical touch
He raises a muffled gun from his holster, pointing it to us. Yasuhiro’s? I bring Azura closer towards me, but before I can step in front of her, we’re facing the sky—falling from the bridge with her arms wrapped around me.
I look up to see her languid face, eyes distant from the present, mindlessly taking measured bites between her lips. She was wearing the burgundy lipstick I bought for her on his anniversary, giving me some sort of relief that maybe there’s hope for forgiveness, and that grudges could heal over time.
I look up to see her languid face, eyes distant from the present, mindlessly taking measured bites between her lips. She was wearing the burgundy lipstick I bought for her on his anniversary, giving me some sort of relief that maybe there’s hope for forgiveness, and that grudges could heal over time.
I look up to see her languid face, eyes distant from the present, mindlessly taking measured bites between her lips. She was wearing the burgundy lipstick I bought for her on his anniversary, giving me some sort of relief that maybe there’s hope for forgiveness, and that grudges could heal over time.
“That shade of lipstick suits you. Do you like it?” My voice sounded louder than I thought it would, amplified by the heavy silence.
Her movements slow into a pause and she clears her throat. “I do, I didn’t think you’d have an eye for something like this.”
It was clear that her words were calculated. Her eyes didn’t meet mine and her expression hadn’t changed. It infuriated me, but I held my tongue, only letting out a small sigh as we continue to eat our dinner in silence.
There was no point in trying to push a conversation onto someone who was still uncomfortable with being around me. Maybe I was hoping for too much when I came to realise that I’ve been falling for her the more I watched over her. Was it wrong of me to keep her so close to my side, even after killing the love of her life? She has to know that it was me who killed Yasuhiro. The evidence was deliberately there, she wasn’t stupid, or was she okay with it?
Dinner had ended in mutual, but understanding, silence. She washes the dishes and puts them on the rack, as I wipe them dry beside her and place them back in the cabinets and shelves. For a brief moment, I took a glance at her, watching her wipe the counter clean after she was done with the dishes, and I felt the urge to hug her from behind. Yet, all I could find the courage to do was lean over her, grabbing the last of the dishes from behind her, afraid that the weight of me would be enough to equate the weight of what I’ve done and break her. She stood there, neither moving away or paying attention to the slight touch of me.
Evening continued, and I took the first shower, grateful for the only form of comfort there was left in my own home. Years had gone by since Azura had started living with me. I can’t even remember why I had proposed the idea, but the longer she stayed with me the more I began to regret murdering Yasuhiro—and the more I began questioning my loyalty towards Manjiro. I’d die for Manjiro, but I didn’t feel that sense of loyalty towards Azura.
As I lingered on my inability to differentiate and define what I’m feeling, rather than denying it, Azura had opened the door, standing there with only a small towel draped over her body. She drops her towel, revealing her familiar figure I’ve known all too well, and walks towards me. I don’t move, just watched her as I kept the shower running over my head with my hands pressed to the wall. I turned my gaze back down to my feet once I caught myself staring for too long.
“I was almost do—”
Her arms snaked over my torso from behind and I can feel her press up against my back. For the first time, there was something reassuring from her.
“Azura,” I grabbed hold of her hand, tangling my fingers between hers. “I’m—”
“Sanzu,” she cut me off. “You don’t need to explain yourself, I know.”
She knows, what? That I regret it, that I’m sorry, felt guilty towards her, pity—that she may be growing on me and I don’t mind it?
Water runs down both of our heads, soaking our bodies, before I suggested taking a bath together. I sit in the tub first, having her sit between my legs and lean against my chest. She felt warm and welcoming as she melted into my arms. Something that would’ve never crossed my mind when I first took her in. Sharp and bold is what she is, always a step ahead of the rest of us even when she had no relation to what we were involved with. It’s how Manjiro deemed her useful. Kept her close, despite her dull expressions and empty eyes.
I feel her shift around, adjusting to a more comfortable position, then she turns her head around to look up at me. There was comfort in our silence, only letting our actions speak for themselves. Maybe because we were too scared that we’d reveal more of ourselves to each other than we’d like to, if we talked. All of our secrets would spill out and I’d already hurt her enough to let her go through that all over again.
She turns to me and opens her mouth like she was about to say something, but presses her lips together, lowering her gaze to my lips. The anticipation lingers before she hesitates and slowly turns back to lean against my chest, but this time she shrinks into her shoulders. It was cute of her, but it only stirred my emotions into a sense of longing.
I couldn’t help, but glance down at her shoulders, suppressing my temptation to place my lips where her collar bone ends. Mindlessly, I brush her hair over her nape, revealing the bare skin on her back. The insignia branded on her spine right between the ends of her shoulder blades, reminding me of the pain I subjected her to the day Manjiro approved of her. If I hadn’t been the one to brand her, would they have been harsher? The rest of us had tattoos, so why did she have to be branded?
She didn’t jerk away from my touch, nor did she tense up, her body became more relaxed, the rest of her weight leaning into me. I took my time admiring every inch of her, wishing that the earth could stop rotating for just one moment to have her all to myself. Unshackled to the responsibilities of traitors for a brief moment.
I press my lips to her shoulders, moving up along her neck as she took deeper breaths at the touch of my lips. Her back arches as I sink my teeth into the curve of her neck, I could feel her fingers grab hold of my head, pulling me into her. The water was getting warmer and she was showing no sign of refusal.
My fingers trace up her inner thigh, growing more and more greedy for her reactions; her small gasps, the rise and fall of her chest, the tension of her muscles melting. I tilt her chin up, bringing her lips to mine, remembering the last time I kissed her. I don’t think I can remember the last time I’ve been gentle or patient with her. Was I ever?
Our lips linger onto each other’s before she slowly pulls apart from me, dipping into my consciousness to bring me back to the present. I couldn’t bring up the courage to take it further, afraid that I wouldn’t be able to mend another irreparable wound.
“Sanzu?”
I open my eyes to meet hers.
“Why’d you stop?”
A direct question that caught me off guard. I knew she was a straightforward woman, but only when it came to business-like situations. Never intimate.
I cradle her face in my hand, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.
“We’re both tired today. We should head to bed soon, yeah?”
She closes her eyes, nodding in my palm. “Okay.”
What else could I do except for holding her in my arms? Our relationship was born out of chances and coincidences, not out of will. I just wanted her to feel at peace, regardless of what it’d do to me.
We eventually got out of the tub, drying both of us off. I apply her nightly skincare to her face, moulding her cheeks into exaggerated expressions to catch a glimpse of her smiling and laughing. Not caring on whether it was fake or real.
When we slipped into bed, I took her in my arms, combing her hair between my fingers.
“Hey, Sanzu?”
She cranes her head up.
“Yeah?”
“Let’s go to the festival this weekend?”
I pulled away from her, unsure of whether she proposed the idea or not. It was the first time she ever suggested going on a date.
“Are you sure?” Was all I could say.
“Of course. Why not?”
“Okay, I’ll free up that day for you then.” I take her back in my arms, cradling her to my chest and pressing a kiss to her head.
Maybe time does heal people.
Time passed and Azura’s fingers were finally tangled between mine. It was a busy night, but not as crowded as I expected it to be. The festival was decorated around the shrine Yasuhiro and I grew up around; the temple we lived in was just behind the shallow patch of forest that stood firmly between them. Food stalls of different cultures and fusions are arranged along both sides of the manmade streets. Signs and arrows guide people’s curiosity around to discover and explore what the festival had to offer, without getting lost.
“Oh, banh mi tacos. We should try those,” she beamed at the sight of people crowding around a stall, pulling me along by my arm.
This time she was the one leading the day. Everything felt like a dream and I was light on my feet, seeing every possible side that exists within her. And for a moment, I felt at peace. Unshackled by the sins I’ve committed to become the person I am now.
I didn’t think happiness could look this beautiful on Azura. Around me she always had a melancholic expression that was unreadable, avoiding my eyes through menial distractions. I was afraid that she saw remnants of Yasuhiro in me, reminding her of what she wasn’t supposed to see that night.
Yasuhiro was my brother, and I loved him, but not after seeing him betray Manjiro. I wished he would have chosen someone else to kill my brother, maybe if it was Takeomi he wouldn’t have been sobbing as Yasuhiro bled away with a pitiful smile on his face. Take care. Takeomi was only our half brother, we didn’t grow close enough to consider our blood-relation yet. Knowing him, he would’ve killed Yasuhiro before he pulled the bullet on himself.
For that, I hated Yasuhiro. The moment he touched the barrel of the gun to his temple, he knew I wasn’t able to kill him in the end. All the determination and conviction I had in me to deal the final blow dissipated and I waivered, and he acknowledged that hesitation. At that moment, Yasuhiro softly smiled at me. Take care. A shot rang through the house and I dropped my blade, running to Yasuhiro’s side, holding him until the last drop of his life bled through my arms and he went cold and stiff. Azura stood at the doorway. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but even when her legs gave in, she crawled to him. Come back. Come back, come back, come back, please, come back. Don’t leave. That night, I had accepted that I killed Yasuhiro.
A couple years went by before I was met with Azura again. It was raining on a sunny day, but she was skimming through her book, sitting outside of a balcony cafe. I was about to continue minding my own business, until Takeomi came out with two coffees in hand. I stood there, gawking. They looked close for two people that never acknowledged each other in the few times they met. But before I could turn around, our eyes met, and she stood from her seat. I ran. My legs sprinted, not knowing where I was going as long as I was far away from her, away from the living proof of my guilt.
“Sanzu!”
I stopped. Without meaning to, I ran towards my past after I’ve been running away from it for so long. We stood in the middle of the bridge that led to the temple that had adopted Yasuhiro and I—our home. Remains of my childhood were swallowed by the vines that grew around it. Now, I’m the only one left alive from the temple.
I didn’t find the courage to confront her, so I froze there, waiting. There was a tug on my shirt, before she placed her head against my back, out of breath. Come back, don’t leave.
Afterwards, we began living together. Keeping each other close as living memoirs of Yasuhiro, unable to let go, but trying to move on.
A part of me already knew that she had wanted revenge, and I’d give it to her. Every time I ate what she offered or whenever I felt the thin line pressed cold against the side of my neck when I slept, I’d accept my fate. But I’d wake up the next day with her by my side, sleeping soundlessly without a trace of intention. Why? I studied her from the way she talked, breathed, paced, blinked, touched, what she read, her favourite foods, what she took pictures of, the things she was attracted to, the museums she frequented, what she listened to. Yet, the more I saw her, the deeper I fell for her, like being sucked into a world that existed out of mine. I read what she read, memorised the notes written between the margins, learned to make her favourite foods, went to the museums, listened to the lyrics of her music; soon enough I realised why—all these things reminded her of Yasuhiro.
Again, I felt the cold chill of her blade against my neck. Except, this time, it wasn’t in bed.
“I’m not asleep yet.”
“So you knew.”
She silently came into my office as I was reading. I showed no sign of retaliating.
“Are you giving up?”
“Are you willing to die this easily?”
The blade presses further into my skin, but I don’t flinch.
“I was always curious to see what face you’d make when you’d finally get rid of me.” I slowly closed my book and placed it on my desk. “If I turn around, would you have that same conviction and determination I lacked that night?” I waited, begging for her to answer, but the weight of her hesitating silence said it all.
I pulled her towards me as I turned from my chair, knocking it to the ground. Her wrist twitched in my grip and she drops her blade, the same blade that I used against Yasuhiro. We’re facing each other now, without avoidance.
“People don’t cry when they’re about to end the life of another out of revenge.”
Tears trickled down her face and I loosen my grip on her wrist, melting away from me. “Then why did you cry that night?”
Because.
“Because I loved my brother too much to kill him with my own hands.” He was the only real family I had left growing up.
I gave her privacy in my office, leaving her to unfurl all she repressed into screams and sobs. But that didn’t mean we got better together.
“Shall we go?”
“Already?”
We’ve been here a couple hours, though time felt like it slipped away in minutes.
She led me through the forest, not saying where we were going, but heading back home to the temple was muscle memory. Cicadas and birds sang through the lush leaves, filling me with nostalgia and thrusting me back into the pool of memories before the division of the temple.
“Yasuhiro used to come here religiously on the weekends, but only during the night. He said that’s the only time the temple will give you permission to visit.”
It’s true. There used to be a stone pathway that guided people to the temple in the day, but it’s been more than enough time for the foliage to grow over it, sealing the temple away from civilization. During the night, it was a trail of fireflies that guided the way.
Remains of the temple and bridge quickly came into view and the familiar sound of flowing water perked my ears. The bridge still held strong by the barked vines, desperately clinging onto the shape of it, warping over the rotting wood and faded talismans.
“Even though I knew this was Yasuhiro’s favourite place, he never told me the full story that tied him here.” Azura runs her fingers delicately over the post of the bridge as we continue towards the temple.
“I wouldn’t say this was Yasuhiro’s favourite place, nor was it mine.” I inspect traces of our memories along the railing: the first talismans we made for protection. “The people who raised us is what made this temple home, but they’re no longer here anymore.”
“There was a betrayal that caused division amongst the monks, right?” Azura turns to me. “The way Yasuhiro talked about it in fragments sometimes was surreal, but it was enough to fill in the missing gaps.”
I nodded.
Inscripted onto the stone tablet that stood as a grave for the temple were the names of the lives lost that day. I brush off the debris. Yasuhiro Mutou. Sanzu Akashi Haruchiyo. I wonder how many more were able to survive like Yasuhiro and I. Would they still be alive even then?
Azura looked over the bridge. “I wonder how deep of a drop this is from the water.” Her gaze looked lost in the vast mist of the water.
“Azura?”
The way her eyes glazed over the water scared me, and I wanted to get her off the bridge. She blinks back to herself, smiling at me. “Come here.”
She puts her hand out to me and I take it in mine. A sense of relief washes over me. My hands are placed around her waist and hers around my neck, and she begins to hum. It took me a while before the sound formed into the familiar tune Yasuhiro used to sing. Mom used to sing it to us when we were little, but you were just a baby at the time.
We swayed together on the bridge. I closed my eyes, resting my chin atop her head. Time froze and I was at peace again.
“Sanzu!”
I flinched at my name and I’m brought back to the present. Takeomi was standing at the other side of the bridge, leaning against the post, panting. “Takeomi?”
He raises a muffled gun from his holster, pointing it to us. Yasuhiro’s? I bring Azura closer towards me, but before I can step in front of her, we’re facing the sky—falling from the bridge with her arms wrapped around me.
My dear Azura,
Do you remember what I was like when we first met? What you said? Your past is a part of you, but I don’t think it makes you any less of the person you are now. It was enough to lift me back on my feet. Because of you, I was able to enjoy life more than resent it. You encouraged my curiosity, filling me with knowledge I was insecure of holding because I believed I was too dense to even process it. Who says people get to stop learning once they turn into adults, is what you said. If only Sanzu were introduced to someone as welcoming as you, I wonder if he’d finally be able to move on too.
I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for what I’m about to do. I’ve thought long and hard to find the right words that would give you the strength to move on once I’m gone, and I want you to know that you deserve to be loved again. You know how much I care for my little brother, but this time I’m going to save him like he saved me back at the temple. And if my decision is wrong and it changes him for the worse, instead of the better, I want you to give him the same chance you gave to me.
I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Forever and always, Yasuhiro
Takeomi,
A few days from now, Sanzu and I will be at the festival just outside the temple, but it’ll be the last place I visit before I disappear. You’d have just arrived back in the country, discovering Sanzu’s blade pinning a ripped passage from his journal to your coffee table. It’ll confuse you, but the dots will eventually connect and that your suspicions about me came true. How else was I supposed to leave?
After discovering Yasuhiro’s letter, I hated him for months on end for leaving me like that without a proper goodbye, and that the letter had originally been meant for you. It hurt knowing that his first thoughts before dying were not of me, yet that’s what I loved about him. So, I decided to help Sanzu, but under one condition—that my ability to love again is buried with Yasuhiro.
Sanzu had long since healed within the couple of years I moved in with him. I know I should’ve left by then, but something bounded me here. Soon enough, weeks become months and months become years. At first, I thought that Yasuhiro’s wish had finally come true—my second love—but I believe it was my ironic inability to move on from Yasuhiro. Every inch of Sanzu was a reflection of him, and every time I closed my eyes it was Yasuhiro that I felt. I didn’t realise that this was how much I missed him.
I couldn’t help myself from projecting Yasuhiro onto Sanzu, so I fought between my own conscious and selfish desires. I took advantage of every obvious chance he gave me to take his life, not out of revenge, but from being painfully reminded of what I lost and can never get back. Who knew that Sanzu was capable of looking this peaceful when he was asleep.
The night I had wanted to end it all with Sanzu's blade to his neck, was the night I realised I had lost. After that I began to love him, but from a distance.
So by the time you receive this letter, I’ll be gone—and you’d have saved Sanzu.
Whether I’m dead or alive, I don’t want you to look for me.
Take care, Azura
Several months have past, since Azura and I jumped over the bridge. The water continues to flow, unbothered by the life it took, but the bridge holds the smallest evidence of what transpired that night—the first talisman I had made as a child, torn from the gravity of our fall. I take in the autumn breeze and knelt down to tie the bouquet of roses over the talisman.
“They’re gonna fall if you tie it like that.” Takeomi walks over from the memorial tablet, a bouquet of lilies resting at the foot.
“Doesn’t matter, everything falls eventually.” I stand from the railings.
Takeomi sighs, running a hand through his hair and leans over the railings. We both gaze over the water running its course. Leaves blow over the waters from the trees aligning the cliffside of the temple, turning the water to a sea of warm hues.
Once I was discharged from the hospital, I spent everyday searching for Azura, scrambling for any evidence I could find of her being alive. Takeomi helped with the search, having his men dig up the geography of where the water flows and diving into the waters, studying the depth of it. A couple months went by, and a diver came back, finding a tunnel below the waters leading to the ocean, ten kilometres north from the temple—but it was humanly impossible to have survived the pressure of swimming through the tunnel to the ocean. We searched the ocean, coming up with nothing. Not even a trace of a body.
“Sanzu,” Takeomi places a hand on my shoulder. “She’s gone.”
I kept my eyes on the cliffside, neither blinking nor speaking, refusing to show any sign of acknowledgement because in the depths of my hope and desire for her, I knew that the inevitability of us being apart, alone, would eventually come.
“You know, I really did love her.” I took a rose bulb from the bouquet, unfurling the petals in my hands.
There was a hesitating pause, before Takeomi responded. “I know.” Barely a whisper.
“I just wished she would’ve stayed a bit longer to hear me say it to her.” The words came out itself before my mind could register what they meant. “I didn’t get to say ‘thank you' either.” I took a step back from the railing, stuffing both my hands back in my coat. The bouquet of roses hangs upside down as the cool breeze blows apart the anatomy of the flowers, showering the surface of the water with petals.
Before I could fully turn my back away and let go of all hope of her ever coming back, I took one last look over the water—searching, confirming my doubts—instead my lips were met with a single burgundy petal that lingered on my cupid’s bow. A part of me wanted to take the petal for myself, but that would be unfair to Azura, so I blew it away.
Takeomi lights a cigarette to his lips, chucking his lighter at me. “You ready?”
“Are you sure?”
He only stares back at me. It’s your decision.
I turn back to see the only pathway to my past hanging by the thin red strip of worn down wood. The red paint frays from the weight of passing time. I can’t go back after this. I look over at the stone tablet.
“Do you mind?”
“Take your time.” Takeomi waits at the entrance of the bridge as I walk back to the temple.
I explore inside, once again. Rays of sun beam in through the caved-in roof. Shadows of where the small jade statues once stood were stained onto the oak stands that used to hold them, lost to thievery or destruction. My memories vividly overlap every corner of the temple: the kitchen, where Yasuhiro and I used to sneak food out at midnight, trying not to get caught; the prayer room, subtle notes of the Himalayan incense cling to the walls where we used to practice sutras, precise enough to hide our nudging and bickering behind the monk’s back. A soft breeze whistles between the gaps of the temple walls, sounding like the gentle whispers and laughter of the shrine maidens that tended to the maintenance and hospitality of this home—the heart of our family. I make my way to the garden, the sight of the overgrown wisteria roots coiling at the edges of the pond. A thread of water traces over the bark of the wisteria leading to the pond, about to overflow. With enough time, nature will take its course and heal over the temple, leaving the wisteria and the stone tablet to remain. There can be no rebirth without destruction.
The warm feeling of the sun shining down envelops me as I walk out the shadows of the temple. Without looking back, the heavy weight on my shoulders lightens, and the tight feeling in my chest finally loosens giving me back the freedom to breathe.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be that quick,” Takeomi steps out of his car.
“There wasn’t much left anyways.”
“You sure about that?”
I turn to him with furrowed brows. Takeomi opens the trunk of his car, revealing a small jade statue of the inscribed stone tablet resting against a bonsai of the wisteria tree.
“How the hell…” I scoffed under my breath.
“I didn’t steal it. I found pieces of the statue on the black market and asked a friend to create a replica of the tablet.” The whole time Takeomi was talking, he was looking elsewhere other than me. Avoiding the chance of being seen through. “Anyways, hope it’s okay with you.”
I smile at the thought of Takeomi being caring. I looked up to thank him, but he had already retreated back to his car.
The weight of the lighter rests in my palms. I flick it open and peel off a talisman from the post, lighting it on fire and placing it to the bridge. It takes slightly longer for the wood to catch fire without gasoline, but the flames are just as big once it takes on a domino effect. Pieces of the bridge fall off before the whole thing collapses into the water.
Despite the painful emptiness of it all, this form of goodbye is for the best—for the both of us.
Note: Just a rough excerpt from an ongoing short story, slightly inspired by The Picture of Dorian Gray and Tender is the Flesh. I was also feeling a bit manic, but thinking about Bonten and how they would be in real life always makes me feel manic. Enjoy!
Pairing: Bonten Takeomi X fem!reader (OC)
⚠️: Although there’s no sexual theme or any mention of anything sexual, there’s emotional and physical abuse (not romanticized), drugging (not romanticized, functional purpose), graphic violence & soft horror.
Oh, here we go again.
“Are you here to tempt me again?”
Takeomi is met with the black goat in his dream again.
“I’m not here to tempt you, I’m simply speaking what you’re about to do.”
“Sounds more like you want me to do it.”
“The only reason why it sounds like that is because that’s exactly what you’re about to do—you plan to keep her that way, don’t you.”
“It’s the only way to keep an artist a genius.”
“She was already a genius before you made her worse. Do you even know her name?” The fog around them gathered in the center and materialized into thick oak roots that grew from the ground and weaved itself together to create a round table, decorated with complimentary leaves, lush, green and full of life. “Take a seat.” The goat points at an empty space, roots emerge from the ground and vines of oak twisted itself into a chair.
It’s true. Takeomi doesn’t know her name, he never asked or bothered to know. He referred to her by her pronouns and people would know who he was talking about, so it never occurred to him that she could possibly have a name. All he could vaguely remember was how he met her.
“No, why would her name matter?”
“Maybe if you could at least learn her name, then you’ll find some other way for her to paint like she does now.”
“Every successful artist that has made their mark in history has had individualized trauma that made them create works worth their price now—”
“So the more insane they are, the better the works? Is that what you’re saying? That great artists are born out of insanity?”
Insanity…
The word weighed heavier coming out from its mouth, its voice sounded disgusted and Takeomi felt like he angered the goat.
“It sounds shitty, but yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“You’d fit in with the demons in hell,” said neither seriously nor jokingly.
“I’m sure I’d make one hell of a prince too,” Takeomi chuckled, trying to make light of the conversation.
Without remembering, they were already seated at the table. The branches had weaved up a wine glass, plate, spoon, fork and knife, awaiting to be filled with whatever is about to be served. There was a gut feeling that Takeomi shouldn’t eat what’s being offered, but he ignored his intuition since he knew all this was just a dream.
“Then you should eat like a prince too, help yourself,” the goat gestures its hoof to Takeomi’s plate.
He looked back down to see that his glass and plate had been filled without disruption. The aromatic red wine complimented the light scent of the medium rare steak that felt more appetizing than the Michelin star meals he had before. It was garnished with some sort of sweet, yet savoury, sauce. The scent gave out what it tasted like before he even took a bite. On the opposite end, the goat sat itself down, naturally like it was a human, but his wine glass was overfilled with something dark red. The texture of it slowly spilled down the sides, pooling around the base of the glass all thick and sticky like.
Takeomi looked back down at his untouched plate and glass, waiting for the goat to sip his “wine” first. Its plate is still empty.
“Cheers.” The goat’s hoof stretched into the shape of a human hand, but with the same texture of the hoof. “To a new prince of hell.” It took up its wine between its oddly unnatural fingers.
Takeomi held up his wine in courtesy and faked a sip, only letting the red liquid touch his lips, waiting for the goat to gulp his glass. After seeing the goat greedily finish its glass in one sip, he felt comfortable enough to take a generous sip out of his glass.
“You should eat your steak before it gets too cold to eat.”
“It’s rude to eat before the host.”
“Mine will take a while to prepare, so please, start without me.”
Takeomi still felt uncomfortable taking a bite before it, but it was watching him with an unavoidable gaze that pressured him to eat, so he did. With a hesitating bite, he chewed through the steak with ease, feeling the flavours melt on his tongue.
“Oh, wow, I’ve never had a steak this good before.”
“I know, hence why I specifically had you eat it.”
Its words didn’t sound right.
Takeomi swallowed the steak and met the goat’s eyes, its black rectangular pupils almost smiled in the pool of gold. Then he saw its plate.
There, Takeomi was met with his head on the goat’s platter.
His eyelids were unevenly stitched closed and tightly with how the skin warped around the black twine. His lips were sewn shut as well in the same manner.
Takeomi began to cough.
“Choking so soon?”
Black liquid started to ooze out of Takeomi’s mouth, fighting to catch his breath as he started to vomit chunks of the liquid onto his plate.
“You should really be careful with what you eat.”
The goat spoke in an unfazed manner as it sliced a sliver of Takeomi’s cheek from his stitched head, tilting its horns back to swallow the piece without chewing.
Tears ran down Takeomi’s face, clawing at his throat to stop vomiting. It was out of his control that even breathing felt impossible to do in this dream. Something lodged in his lungs felt like it was crawling out from his throat, the pain was unbearable that he was able to claw his chest open, hearing the crack of his rib cage open up as he desperately tore his lungs open. All the blood, bones, flesh, black liquid stained his nails and hands, he didn’t expect tearing your own flesh apart to feel like molding clay. It couldn’t be possible, but he was able to breathe again. Except, when he looked down to see the flesh of his torn lungs and broken ribs spill out from him, he saw the same roots that made the table and cutlery twisted around his beating heart.
Next thing he knew, the roots shot throughout his body, through his mouth, ears, eyes, until he was nothing but a blood-stained oak tree.
Takeomi shot up from his bed, panting in a rush and patting himself down to feel for anything unusual. He even unbuttoned his shirt to see that his chest was fine and not torn. Even though it was a dream, there are times where it’d feel too real.
He reached for his phone to see that it was 3:12 in the morning.
The sound of glass shattering rang through the hallway.
Takeomi bolted out of his room towards the sound that came from her room. Upon unlocking it, he saw that the potted bonsai tree had been shattered and he shuddered at the sight of the familiar roots. He scans the room to find her crouched in the corner by the window, clutching the curtain over her.
“What happened?” Takeomi approaches her.
She was mumbling something, but he couldn’t hear her.
He closes the curtain, pulling it out of her grasp, feeling the tension of her fingers loosen. She doesn’t look away or react to Takeomi’s movements, instead she keeps blankly staring straight ahead without blinking, mumbling to herself.
“I need you to get to bed.”
She doesn’t budge or turn his way.
Takeomi sighs and bends down to pick her up.
“...paint that…”
“What?” Takeomi leans in closer to her.
“I didn’t paint that.”
He pulls away from her and looks down to see her finger pointing towards something.
Takeomi turns to see some of her brushes sprawled throughout the floor under the moonlight, but there was something else he couldn’t see. A white canvas is easy to see, even without the lights, so why was it dark like a void?
He turns the lights on.
Not only were the brushes sprawled all over the floor, but so were the paints. The tubes were torn open with some brushes shoved in them as if scooping them out. He could make out a spot on the floor that was used as a palette area, dollops of paint sat near each other in an imperfect circle. Even the walls got stained with paint.
The bonsai tree that he thought just fell had parts of its roots torn apart. He looked around the area and saw a huge chunk of the roots at the corner of the canvas, coated in black and a dark burgundy red paint. That’s when Takeomi looked up to see the whole painting.
“What—what the fuck is this?”
Takeomi felt a lump in his throat, he was too angry to stand there horrified. Was he being mocked? Is she making fun of him? Or is this a dream too?
Against the abstract dark red background was the same goat he saw in his dreams, except its eyes were gouged out that oozed blood and had a human-like smile. Its chest had been clawed out, exactly how Takeomi clawed out his chest, its blood, flesh and bones splattered over the edge of the oak table. The heart wrapped in roots, patterns of the bonsai roots stamped and blended in the background, the singular bite on the steak, all of it was a painted summary of Takeomi’s dream.
“How did you paint that, huh?” He whipped the near-empty paint tubes at the window beside her, a splatter of excess paint stains the glass. She doesn’t flinch.
“I didn’t—”
He strides towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders and violently shaking her.
“Why did you paint that?!”
Her breathing began to quicken in short breaths.
“I DIDN’T PAINT IT!”
“Takeomi!”
Mochi, Koko and Ran rushed into the room. Takeomi didn’t even hear them enter the house. He turns back to her, seeing that he had grabbed her forcefully enough to lift her on her feet. He wanted to rip her head open, scrambling through the flesh of her fragile brain for answers, but a wave of fatigue had washed over him when the calling of his name snapped him back to reality. Instead he just felt irritated.
I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t paint it I didn’t—
Takeomi leans into her ear. “You disgust me.” Then shoves her against the wall.
She doesn’t fight back, nor winces at him anymore, only glares back at him. It was better than her situation before, so she’s used to it. Mochizuki crouches down and puts out his hand to her. She reluctantly takes it and is led back to her room where Mochi drugs her back to sleep with Sanzu’s pills, and locks her in.
“Omi, how did she open the door from the inside?”
“I don’t know, I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he runs his hands over his face to keep him awake enough to walk back to his room.
Ran stares at the painting in awe, a hand covers his mouth, hiding his manic smile that reminded Takeomi of Sanzu.
“What the hell happened here?”
Koko examines the mess in the room and steps around with caution.
“I’m too tired to explain.” He waves off Koko with a hand. “Just get that painting out of my sight.”
Hi everyone! Please read this is it is incredibly important!
Over the past few days I’ve been harassed via anonymous asks from someone who is attempting to dox me. In addition to revealing personal information about other people, they have been hinting at my location, my browser, and I believe installed spyware onto my computer by grabbing my IP address.
I know talking about Internet security isn’t fun by any means, but I urge you all to listen and ensure you’re keeping your information safe. Please be wary of what you share on this site and on discord, with people you’ve met, with friends you’ve made online. It is unfortunate to say, but you truly don’t know who is on the other side of the screen.
IF YOU ARE BEING THREATENED AND HARASSED VIA ANON DO NOT DELETE THE ASKS. DO NOT ANSWER. SCREENSHOT THEM AND SEND THEM AS PROOF TO TUMBLR STAFF. Let staff know that you are unable to flag the message like they suggest as it is on anon. Hopefully they’ll be able to help you out, or at the very least if enough messages like this crop up they will look to protect our information and data better than they are now.
AFTER YOU HAVE MESSAGED STAFF FILE A REPORT WITH YOUR GOVERNMENT AND APPROPRIATE LEGAL ENFORCEMENT ESTABLISHMENTS ACCORDING TO YOUR JURISDICTION. The screenshots will come in handy here as well!
GOVERNMENT OF CANADA - YOU WILL HAVE TO CALL YOUR LOCAL POLICE TO FILE A REPORT IN ADDITION TO SUBMITTING THIS FORM
APPROPRIATE USA FEDERAL INVESTIGATIVE BUREAUS TO CONTACT
FOR USA: REPORT THE CYBERCRIME TO CISA
HOW TO REPORT A CYBERCRIME IN THE UK - THEY PROVIDE A NUMBER YOU CAN CALL IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY EXPERIENCING IT
Here’s a few methods that you can take to protect yourself and the people around you as they did allude to being able to do so through people they’ve already hacked.
1. USE A VPN. Proton VPN is free, and you can download browsers such as Opera and TorBrowser to protect yourself. Ensure that if you have a VPN downloaded that you have the option to run as soon as you turn on your laptop, and to automatically connect! If you’re like me and tend to forget, this is a lifesaver. You may have to submit captchas more frequently, but in my opinion it’s a small price to pay for peace of mind!
Keep it running when you send asks, DMs, go on discord, whatever.
2. Try to limit use on Tumblr to desktop with the VPN and private browser running - the doxxer was able to see the system my phone was running on as well as my IP.
3. Download an AntiVirus program! It will help detect any malicious spyware - Google to find a reputable program that works for you and your budget. Bitdefender and Norton are two great options.
4. Enable Two Factor Authentication on everything. There are a bunch of free authenticator apps you can download onto your phone (Google, Microsoft, etc). You also have the option of using your phone or email - whatever works for you! For an extra level of security, make sure to end any existing/currently running sessions before you set it up.
5. Change your passwords and make sure you write them down in a physical location, not saved on your phone or computer! Again - end any running sessions before you do so!
6. Don’t click any suspicious links! Don’t click links in asks! I mentioned this before, but this or another person tried to grab my IP through a hyperlink in an ask - copy and paste it into your notes to see what the actually URL is before you click! If it’s a shortened link (bit. ly, etc.) ask them to resend with the full link. Better to be annoyed with a long string of letters and numbers than to have your IP tracked.
7. DO NOT POST PHOTOS YOU TOOK DIRECTLY FROM YOUR PHONE. There will be data attached that can pinpoint your location! Same with videos! Please be careful! If you absolutely want to post a personal photo, screenshot the picture and then post it! You can pop it into a draft on your phone and then switch to desktop to finish up, or Google how to scrub data from photos and videos before posting!!
8. USE A PSEUDONYM. They might be addressing you, but if it’s not even close to your real name it will give you an extra layer of comfort. NEVER give out personal information no matter how much they harass you. You might confirm something they’re only speculating on or give them information they didn’t have - do your best to ignore, block, and report when possible.
9. BE AWARE OF WHAT STILL HOLDS YOUR DATA. Are you sending a TikTok link? Make sure your username isn’t attached to it! Copy and paste the URL into a browser and then delete everything after the video’s ID (a string of numbers). Are you sharing a Google doc with your online friend? Make sure it’s not off your personal account!
Are you sending a photo of your license to someone? Blur out your photo, address, ID number, and middle and last names! Legitimate discord server owners should only be asking for proof of your DOB! Are you talking about school? Hobbies? Landmarks? Know that these can provide an idea of where you’re currently residing! Taking a photo of your car for some reason? Blur the license plate! Street signs! If there are signs from political canvassing in the area, blur those out too! I would say never post a photo of the area you live in or your neighbourhood - there are too many things that can appear in the background that people can use to find you. Don’t describe yourself if there are distinctive attributes in your appearance!
10. USE A DIFFERENT EMAIL WHEN SIGNING UP FOR SITES/ACCOUNTS ASSOCIATED TO YOUR PSEUDONYM. Create a new one for writing. Don’t put your personal name on there. If you end up having to change pseuds, you can easily alter it to reflect whatever name you would like to be called! Using your personal email address gives doxxers another potential avenue. Similarly with kofi - as a content creator when you tip it will reveal your first and last name if you don’t have a separate paypal account set up! IF YOU CHOOSE TO TIP ON KOFI MAKE SURE THE PERSON YOU ARE TIPPING IS SOMEONE THAT YOU TRUST. I know that’s a little strange to say after everything I just wrote, but use your gut.
Please share this and ensure you’re taking care of yourself and your data! You might never do something like this, but there are people out there who will take advantage of this. These are also great habits to have for your life outside of tumblr and social media; preventative measures will help a lot! Whether you’re reading, writing, vibing, keep yourself safe!!
Note: Very long overdue, but in addition to my Catholic series of the JJK men, I present to you Geto Suguru.
Pairing: fem!reader x Geto
⚠️: 18+, breeding/creampie, one night stand, pinning, humiliation
Something’s not right. The silence was too heavy in the confessional, it’s like you could hear your own heartbeat echo within the walls. A priest usually enters within a minute or two, but it felt more than that. You fish for your phone in your bag to check the time, surprised that it’s been 15 minutes since you came in.
“Hello?” you peer through the screen in front of you. Nothing, only pitch black.
You sigh, and having lost most of your patience, you give up and turn to leave, but when you pushed on the door to open, you noticed that it was locked from the outside—a characteristic not common for a confessional. Then the sound of a door clicking open and closed comes from the other side of the screen. “Are you here to confess your sins?” a friendly voice asked, hinting that he could be smiling.
“Um, yes,” you hesitantly replied, unsure of the ominous presence.
The dim lights flicker.
“Shall we begin?”
You take in a deep nervous breath and proceed to confess your sins. At the time of everything you’ve committed, it felt right, but now that you’re confessing out loud it sounded embarrassing. Shameful. Although a weight you’ve never known you’ve shouldered has now lifted, giving you a chance to breathe.
“Um, that’s all,” you awkwardly responded, concluding your confessions. There was a series of shuffling coming from the other side, until the lights turned off, submerging you in complete darkness.
“Don’t worry, just give it a moment,” the priest reassured you.
The lights came back on, but this time it brought back a metallic scent and the sound of something dripping.
“Father? Are you okay?” you lean into the screen. Trying to peer through the small holes until something slams up against it, startling you back to the seat.
“Sorry, I’m feeling a bit light headed,” he said in that same friendly voice. An eerie chill runs up your spine. “I believe we might need to continue this in the office, shall we?”
Office? Is he flirting with me? Not wanting to jump to conclusions, you settle your thoughts and worries down. “You can tell me what my penance is and I could recite the prayers in the pews instead of here, so you could leave early.”
“Penance?”
“Yes,” you replied in the same confused tone as the priest. “Penance, something to partially make up for my sins?”
“Ah, is that how this worked?” The voice that sounded from the screen, now came from behind you. The friendly tone now merged into a sneer manner, like a mask had fallen off.
You could feel his figure looming over you, scared to turn around, you shut your eyes to get a better grip of your senses. Slowly, you turn towards him while keeping your eyes on the ground and begin to trace up towards the priest’s face; gradually making up the figure of a tall man in a Buddhist robe. “You’re not a priest.”
“And you’re not a monkey,” his eyes scan you from head to toe. “I thought Christians were more modest, no?”
You cross your arms, feeling exposed in front of him. You were wearing a short dress with ruching at the waist and shoulders, low frontal and back, so it was a little bit revealing for a church, but it’s not uncommon for a city church. Ironically, there are even prostitutes that come in for worship. “I think, I’m gonna go look for another priest.” Trying to avoid making a scene unsuitable for a church.
“I don’t think so,” he completely blocks your way out, backing you against the screen. The confessional was small, only able to fit one person at a time, but now that he was towering over you, it felt like rush hour on the trains and subways. “I still have to give you your penance.”
Geto. The name he introduced himself as, has you pinned up against the screen—reciting the Hail Mary’s.
“Blessed art thou amongst—mmph!” you stifle a moan, unable to cover your mouth with either of your hands. Since he had them tied over your head with his prayer beads and a rosary, using it to hold your arms up while gripping the screen behind you for support.
“I didn’t say you could stop,” he grunts in your ear, the heat of his breath sends goosebumps down your neck. “It’s only your third Hail Mary, too. Didn’t I say to do ten of them, hm?”
Your head was empty, unable to concentrate. It had been flushed of any thought of shame, embarrassment and humiliation. The penance he gave you were ten Hail Mary’s and ten Our Father’s, while committing one of your sins, again. There was no excuse that you could come up with for getting into this situation, his fingers were trailing up your leg as he was gently breathing down your neck. Like an impulsive night at the bar, you pulled him into a thoughtless kiss, waiting for him to stop you, hoping for him to stop you, but it lingered. One thing led to another with him slipping his arms out of his sleeves, letting the robe hang off his waist, and revealing a rather slim and muscular build. Why?
“Geto, my wrists,” you huffed, trying to move your fingers to shake off the numbness.
He thrusted himself deeper into you while adjusting your position, throwing your bond arms over his head and grabbing hold of your thighs. The feeling of his girth unfurling your desires makes the sore pain around your wrists feel pleasurable. “Better?”
You nodded. The heat of both your bodies increasingly gets hotter and hotter, filling the confessional with lustful moans and sultry tones.
Geto couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He grips the screen tighter, enough to hear the varnished wood creak under the pressure and force of his fingers, as if it was about to break. Your bonded arms have slid from your elbows resting on his shoulders to your wrists, using the rosary to pull him closer to you by the neck.
Your toes curl from the feeling of him bringing you closer to the edge, tensing the muscles of your thighs.
“Geto,” you sighed. “Fill me.”
The heat of his chuckle tickles near your bare neck. His lips nipping at it, making you wonder when something so mundane to you ever felt this good, especially with someone you just met.
“More, please,” you begged, reciprocating those same kisses onto his neck.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his breathing getting more and more rapid.
Geto’s cock nudges rougher inside of you one last time and stops. Your walls squeeze in around his cock, pulsating faster and faster as you feel the peak of ecstasy crest in. “Hah!” You cry out loud. Your legs tighten as your body uncontrollably shudders at the amount of pleasure.
Both of you cave into the crook of each other’s neck with Geto still holding you up against the screen, except his grip has loosened around your thigh, imprinting a faint hand mark around them.
“We should go another round some other time,” he huffed, catching his breath and pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel his cum filling you up inside, his cock still squirting the last bit out as it overflows out of you and dribbles along the wall and onto the floor.
⚠️: 18+, minors dni, pure overstimulation, creampie/breeding, dubcon!
"Mitsuya, that’s enou—!"
A wave of ecstatic pleasure shudders throughout your body as he thrusted into you again, thick ropes of cum filling your womb.
Mitsuya had you bent over the edge of his desk, arms bound under his grip, legs shaking and struggling to support his weight on you. Fortunately, he had no fitting appointments today and Hakkai & Yuzuha are in France for a runway and showcase for Jacquemus—so there was no one to interrupt.
One or two rounds was all it was supposed to be today, but he’s been relentlessly releasing himself into you for what felt like three hours.
You tried prying yourself out of his grip, but he was stronger than what you imagined. "Mitsuya, I can’t—no more,” you gasped. “Please.”
There was no response, except for the sound of his heavy breathing. His pace slows down, but that didn’t mean he’d stop. You feel him thrust harder into you, the impact filling your lower abdomen.
With your other arm free, you press your palm to Mitsuya’s stomach hoping he’d take the hint, but he only took it as an opportunity to pull you back—lifting his knee onto the desk.
“Haa—!”
Mitsuya placed his hand over your mouth, embracing you with his arm laced over your body to hold you down on him. Every stroke he thrusts into you takes a piece of your conscience away, letting the warm feeling of him melt your thoughts down to the brink of having no thoughts at all.
You blink hard as you feel yourself coming closer to the edge again, sucking in your breath and holding it in, shuddering uncontrollably. Another round added on top of the countless others. He has to be done by now, you can feel parts of him quivering against your sweat slicked skin.
Finally, Mitsuya had collapsed over you. He fought to hold himself up, but his legs refused to give him the same strength his will gave him. His breathing was ragged and rasped at the nape of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, still catching his breath. “Week’s been stressful." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, hugging you a little tighter.
You were all Mitsuya was thinking about this whole week. He even gave himself a four month head start, but as always there were last minute changes and decisions that couldn’t be avoided.
Counting down the days until he could see you kept him going, but having you surprise him in his studio made Mitsuya drop everything he was doing to release a sliver of his pent up stress.
contains. fluff, mentions of alcohol, established relationship, usage of the word “bunny” and “babe” as petname, soft boyfriend!suna taking care of you while you’re drunk even if you’re angry at him
wc. 2,000+
“‘Tsumu, you fuck! Why the hell did you fucking call him?!”
You glared at the blonde who’s currently sitting on the pavement with his hand on his head as he groans. He’s probably feeling like shit right now considering he drank too much alcohol earlier.
But still, your best friend managed to lift his head so he could glare back at you as he says, “Ugh, please, Y/N. We’re both drunk as fuck right now and we needed to go home. Kuroo was our ride earlier but he left so I had to call your boyfriend,” Atsumu mumbled, running his fingers through the messy locks sitting atop his head.
Before you can even snarl at him, you feel a hand placing on your back and smelling the familiar scent of Rintarō’s cologne, you quickly step away as you narrow your eyes at him.
You can see his eyes glinting with amusement for a second but it was gone just as fast it appeared. Sighing, your boyfriend removed his gaze from you to look at Atsumu.
“Hey, ‘Tsum,” he says as he walks closer to where the blonde is. “You should probably head inside the car now. Here,” Rintarō hands him a bottle of water.
“Fuck,” Atsumu grunts as he accepts the drink. “Thanks, man. I’ll head inside first.”
He stood up from where he’s sitting, then he started to walk. But before he walked far away from the two of you, Atsumu placed a hand on Rintarō’s shoulders saying, “Good luck with that one. She keeps on telling me how mad she is at you earlier.”
Rintarō chuckled while you felt annoyed after hearing what Atsumu said.
“Who’s side are you even on?” you rolled your eyes.
Atsumu only snickers. Then he started walking to get inside the car, leaving you and your boyfriend alone.
When Rintarō turns around to walk towards where you are, you immediately scowl at him.
“I don’t wanna go with you,” you state, eyes following his every move.
“Rindou, please,” you sobbed. Hands were bound behind you with whatever he tied you with and your eyes have been blindfolded with a dark enough fabric to not see any light between the weavings. You know Rindou had you bent over his lap, but you couldn’t tell what he was sitting on. “That’s enough.”
“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”
You whimper, jumping at the impact of his hand to your ass. The sound of slapping amplified by the silence and emptiness of the room he carried you in.
It’s only now that you realized it was a room you’ve never been in before. Although you can’t see anything, you were acutely aware of the unfamiliar scent it carried.
After Rindou had tied and blindfolded you, he stripped you naked from the waist down. From the skirt of your dress to the shorts you wore underneath and the thin fabric of your underwear, thread by thread, fabric by fabric, he ripped away your sense of dignity. The embarrassing feeling of your best friend seeing your cunt on full display heightens your sensitivity to any form of touch. Your wrists felt like they were tightly bound by something thick, but pliable, and too soft to feel like rope. You try to shake the blindfold off, but Rindou had tied it around your ponytail, so that there wouldn’t be any accidental slips.
“Do you even know where you are?” His nails begin to lightly scrape the slope up the back of your thigh, dragging it deeper into your skin the longer you don’t reply.
“Ah—no! No, I don’t,” you wince, reflexively flicking your feet up to shake off the pain, but he catches you by the ankle, making you flinch.
“You almost kicked me there, and after comforting you for years on end about your boyfriend being gone.” You bit your lip back at the mention of Shinichiro. “We’ve all moved on from it, so why can’t you?” The feeling of something soft and warm pecks your thigh where he scratched you, the sound of what could only be a kiss follows after the feeling lifts from your skin.
How could you move on from someone you love too much that it left you feeling like time had stopped the moment they took their last breath? You still have vivid dreams and nightmares of Shinichiro in your sleep that sometimes you wake up either screaming or crying; waking up to reality forcefully ripping a part of you that was once full of life. It felt wrong existing in a world without Shinichiro, but the universe will never be fair to those who don’t deserve it.
Tears begin to form under your blindfold as you try to muffle your sobbing, knowing that it’ll annoy Rindou.
He exhaustively sighs. “Again? Are you in that much pain?”
You shake your head, still stifling your sobs.
“Then what is it now?”
You press your lips together because once you start speaking, you’ll be uncontrollably crying again.
“If you don’t tell me what’s wrong then I’m gonna keep going.” He begins to drag his nails along the back of your other thigh.
“It’s no—” a knot catches in your throat.
He pauses, waiting for you to continue.
You take a deep breath. “It’s...nothing.”
“Hey,” Rindou stops and gently wraps his hand around your thigh. “Why are you lying to me?” His gentle touch warps into a bruising grip. “You’ve been confiding in me for years and it’s only now you’re lying to me?”
You try to wriggle yourself out of his painful grip, but his other hand is firmly placed on your back, holding you down from squirming too much. “Rin, it hurts,” you pleaded, sniffling from the pain.
“Good.”
Your body relaxes as he releases his grip, but he slaps you over the same spot.
“Rin!” You yelped.
The sharp pain slowly dissipates into a hot patch, throbbing from the impact, unable to hold yourself up and collapsing your full weight over his lap.
“No, you don’t get to give up yet. Not after what you put me through.” His voice reverberates with anger.
Rindou grabs you by the nape of your neck and pulls you onto some sort of furniture, unsure of how big it is, only hearing it creak under your weight. Knowing how he was going to react was getting harder to predict; he had you laying on your back this time, making it easier to breathe. You don’t know if he was going to stop here or continue torturing you like this.
“Rindou, what’s happening?” You whimper, the touch of his hand sliding up and down your calves.
“Nothing’s happening,” he gently mocks you. “Just recreating the memories you had with Shinichiro, maybe that would help you move on.”
You gasped. The soft yet wet feeling of his tongue presses against the skin of your thighs, his lips suckling at the contour of your ilium. You try to fight him back, but with your arms bound, your sight taken away and the strength of his arms holding you down, it was pointless. “Rin, we can talk,” you pleaded. “Just—hah!”
A freezing cold sensation pricks the inner part of your thigh, almost feeling like something sharp until the condensation of droplets form at the heat of your skin, being absorbed into a small wet spot on the furniture—ice.
“Was this how Shinichiro did it?” Rindo slides the ice closer to your vulva.
Shinichiro. Each syllable of his name flicking off the tip of your tongue to remind you of the familiarity of the person you still love. Rindou was far too harsh to be like Shinichiro, he was nowhere close to bearing any similarities with Shin, but why is it that the way Rindou touches you feels nostalgic. Would this be considered cheating?
No, stop.
You clasp your legs together in an attempt to stop him from going any further, but he pries you open with ease, folding your legs over and placing the ice on your clit.
It was too cold for you to bear, but it melted quickly, trickling down your skin.
“You’re already feeling that hot over here?” His hand slid further down, molding over the shape of your cunt and applying pressure, slowly enticing you into reactions that’d satisfy his sadistic pleasure.
You can feel him looming over you, radiating heat from his body and hearing his light jagged breathing.
“Okay, that’s it, let me go,” you begged.
“But the fun’s about to begin.”
You can hear him smiling with fake sympathy as he said those words to you.
Rindou lightly caresses your cheek, the temperature from the ice lingering off of his fingers, relishing the anticipation of seeing your expression when he finally takes off your blindfold. “I’m gonna make you feel every pain I ever felt seeing you happy around him.”
He loved seeing people in pain caused by him, but there was an unspoken hint of melancholy in his tone. You can feel his fingers slightly trembling, but it couldn’t be from something like melancholy, those emotions don’t reside within a person like Rindou.
“Turn around,” he commanded.
You obliged, knowing that going against his word would make you trigger an anger you didn’t want to deal with again.
The strap of your torn dress slipped from your shoulder, the weight of the fabric peeling it further down, exposing your breasts.
Rindou leans into the crook of your neck, right below your ear. “That’s a good girl.”
The heat of his breath tickles your skin as he bites your strap, pulling it back over your shoulder before tenderly pressing his lips to your skin once it was back in its place.
This wasn’t what you were hoping would come out of the fight you had just moments ago at his place. You didn’t even know what you did wrong for Rindou to get mad at you, and Ran wasn’t anywhere around to calm him down. After all those years with Shinichiro, you were able to get over your feelings for Rindou, which was a long time ago. Over time you came to appreciate the friendship you two held, but when time took away Shinichiro it changed your relationship with Rindou with unspoken intentions.
Relying on Rindou for comfort became a spoiled habit of yours. Not once has he comforted you the way he does now: intertwining his fingers with yours as you fall asleep on him, kissing you on the head before hugging you, messaging and calling you more to either hear you talk about your day to make sure it wasn’t bad, and if it was, he’d immediately drop by your place while you’re still on the phone with him (but won’t tell you he’s on the way until he says he’s here). There were more, but you and Rindou became closer than ever before dating Shinichiro.
Having Shinichiro as your boyfriend was nice, but there would be times where his niceness became eerily empty. You remember a few of your fights clearly. It felt like a dream where your voice was there, but no sound came out no matter how hard you screamed, except for a few words, but not loud enough for him to hear (and not one you intended to make). Addiction is what Shinichiro’s love felt like. There was an obsession towards him that you developed from craving his love, his touch, his attention, everything. It drove a rift between you and Rindou that you didn’t even notice was there, but Rindou never questioned it or confronted you for it either. He just watched you grow more distant and distant from him without putting any effort to stop it from growing bigger—that is, until Shinichiro died an unexpected death.
You thought you and Rindou had mended your relationship back to how it was before, but it felt worse.
“I hate how you make me think of hurting you in the worst way possible,” Rindou was rubbing another ice cube in slow circles over your clit and down the slit of your cunt, only slightly pressing it into you, but not all the way inside.
You sucked in your breath. “Rin, it’s too cold,” you huffed, toes curling.
“Shh,” he kisses the small of your back, pressing the ice further into your cunt as you tensed and shivered at the freezing sensation. “You’re doing good.” He presses his fingers further into you with the ice, melting from the heat of you as it dribbles out of your cunt.
Only your pretty pants and moans were able to influence his actions as your words fell on deaf ears; even worse, you hated how good it felt, and you didn’t know if it was because you haven’t felt the touch of another person since Shinichiro, or if it’s because of Rindou.
As if his fingers weren’t enough, you let out a deep pleasurable sigh at his tongue rolling over your clit. You writhed under his touch, not because it felt uncomfortable, but because you didn’t want to cum too fast at only his fingers and his tongue.
You wanted to feel more of him.
“...more,” you shamefully murmured into the sheets.
Rindou paused, withdrawing his tongue, but keeping his fingers where they were. “Say that again?”
You bit your lip, taken aback by the sound of it slipping through your mouth all desperately. You hesitated, then realized that there was no going back on your word. “I—I said...more.” Sounding needier than before, almost begging now.
Rindou slowly curls his fingers, pressing them into your walls, eliciting a moan out of you. “Hm? Sorry, I couldn’t hear you through all that moaning and breathing.”
He began rolling his thumb over your sensitive clit. Your body tenses and shudders at the influence of his touch, cumming at the thrust of his fingers, uncontrollable pulsating around them. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet,” he scoffs, pressing a kiss to your ass.
Your body jerks at the movement of his fingers pulling out, thighs trembling, the heat from your cunt surging down to your toes with sweat building up condensation throughout your body.
“Now, should I take your blindfold off first or treat myself?” He plays with the tie around your ponytail, running his hand underneath the length of your hair.
You were still catching your breath from your orgasm, until you felt something warm and hard teasing up and down the wet slit of your cunt. “Wait, not ye—!”
Rindou thrust himself inside of you.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. His hands firmly wrapped around your hips, reeling from your first orgasm.
God, do you miss this feeling.
“Please, slow down, at least,” you managed to say between each breath.
You can feel the motion of his fingers still playing with your ponytail, preparing yourself to get pulled by him, but no.
Instead your surroundings slowly come into view, piecing itself together as your eyes adjust to the brightness of the room.
Rindou had pulled your blindfold off—revealing Shinichiro’s room.
No. No. No, no, no, no no no no no no.
There, right across from you, was Shinichiro’s full body mirror purposefully propped there, remembering that it was usually by the opposite corner of the room. Rindou had a satisfied grin on his face seeing the reflection of guilt, pain and disgust in your eyes. “Surprise,” he mockingly whispers into your ear. “What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be happy that we’re recreating your memories back in your dead boyfriend’s room?”
You knew he was twisted, but not psychologically twisted. You wanted to throw up at the reflection of yourself in the mirror, bile felt like it was crawling up from your stomach, clawing up the walls of your throat, but you forced yourself to hold it down. Everything felt gross.
Memories you shared with Shinichiro came flooding back to your mind, loose fragments of your dates, laughs, fights, apologies coming in more vividly than when you try to remember. This was a memorable room that held a face and voice you thought you’d never forget, but here you are realizing that those memories have become foggy.
“...why?” Tears began trickling down your face, looking at the picture of you and Shinichiro on your first date taped to the corner of the mirror. “This is going too far,” your voice trembled, breaking into a sob.
For the first time, Rindou had hurt you, and he didn’t know how to make up for it. He’s seen you cry about Shinichiro from time to time, but never like this. It was also the first time he ever felt some sort of guilt for hurting someone. He didn’t know what to do or how to even apologize for something like this, but he knew he didn’t want it to create another rift again like before.
Rindou reaches for your face, hoping that if he comforts you the same way he did when you mourned over Shinichiro, then everything will go back to normal. “Hey, quit crying—”
“Untie me!” You yelled at him through your sobs, violently rubbing your wrists together to force it loose. Hoping the pain from doing so would make you feel less disgusting.
Unforgivable.
“Okay, okay. Stop, you're gonna hurt yourself.” He pulls out of you and proceeds to untie you.
Glancing over your shoulder at him, it was his belt that he tied you with.
Rindou throws his dress shirt over you, while looking elsewhere to give you some sort of privacy. He already slipped back into his pants, hanging low off his hips with the zipper half way done and unbuttoned.
It’s been so long since the last time you were in Shinichiro’s room that the scent wasn’t familiar to you anymore. Memories continue to ripple through your head, they were happy ones too and you felt bad for trying to move on, but holding on hurts more than you thought it would.
You prop yourself up, holding Rindou’s shirt over your shoulders. Your dress was torn and ruined, so you removed what remained of it off of you and buttoned up the shirt, feeling somewhat a bit cleaner. The room was silent as you finally calmed yourself down, or more like disassociated from certain parts of reality. You look over at Rindou, sitting at the opposite side of the bed, turned away from you.
“Are—” he hesitated, clearing his throat. “Are you done?” His tone, softer than before.
You opened your mouth, but then closed it, unsure on whether you should slap him hard across the face and kick his balls, or yell at him for thinking up something like this.
After a moment of silence, you shuffled towards him just as he was about to get up from the bed and leave.
“No,” you tugged at the stiff fabric of his pants. “Stay. We need to talk.”
There were no hidden intentions, so Rindou settled himself back down onto the bed, keeping himself from looking you in the eye. After knowing someone for so long, there was an unwritten obligation to fix that relationship, no matter how bad the fight or the situation could be. You don’t know if it was the fear of having wasted your time on each other, or the conflicts that could ignite from ending it right here, but you do know that this relationship needed to be fixed and you wanted to keep Rindou in your life. Forgiving him on the spot was too much of a stretch, but working towards it should be a good start.
“Did I do—” No, you didn’t do anything wrong. “What you did was wrong, but—”
“I know.” He lowered his head, hands clasped together, fumbling with his thumbs.
Rindou never said anything bad about Shinichiro before because there was nothing bad about him. Everyone looked up to him. So he’d been misdirecting his hatred of him towards you, since it was easier, but he had also woken another feeling of satisfaction seeing you cry. Though not to the point where you hated him. It was a side of you that even Shinichiro had never seen within the five years of your relationship with him. You had only ever cried to Rindou, since you were kids. And Rindou wanted to keep it that way.
“Why?” You asked, afraid of his answer. “Why Shinichiro’s room?” Hoping the question would reveal a way to help mend your relationship with him.
Rindou raised his head and turned to glance at you over his shoulder. “That’s all you're mad about?” Expecting you to be more mad that he laid his hands on you.
That’s all?
“That’s all?” You echoed his words back to him in disbelief. “This is still Shinichiro’s—!”
“Could you stop saying his name like that?” A pause. “Have you ever considered how I felt about you always talking and crying about how much you miss Shinichiro?”
Your eyes widened at the unspoken truth. No, it’s not possible, Rindou was never against your relationship with Shinichiro…but he also never expressed his happiness for the two of you, he was indifferent to it. You weren’t around each other that often when you started dating Shinichiro. So, how could you have known?
Ah, you want my help with Rindou? Sure!
Rindou never had feelings for you—he shouldn’t have feelings for you.
I’m sorry...he likes someone else.
Shinichiro told you so, which was why you chose to stay as friends with Rindou and slowly grew to love Shinichiro. You remember crying to Shinichiro the night he came to tell you, hugging you in arms with a comforting embrace as the two of you stood in place, keeping you company until you felt ready to pull yourself out from his arms. It was also the night he confessed his feelings to you...why didn’t it click with you back then? You accepted the truth from Shinichiro without hesitation, it felt like Rindou had rejected you, and it took you until now to find out that he loved you all along.
Was everything a lie then?
“You know how I felt about you and you took advantage of that. Using me as a rebound to help you feel like you’ve never lost anyone in the first place.”
“No. No, it wasn’t like that,” you had to get it out your chest. “Shin told me he’d help me.” The words coming from your tongue sounded like betrayal. “He told me you liked someone else back then.”
Rindou finally turned to face you, looking you in the eye with an intensity like he’d found the truth that he thought would never come true. “Are you lying to me?” He leaned closer to you on the bed making you fall back on your elbows.
Unraveling the truth had made you question if your love for Shinichiro was real. He always made you smile and you felt safe and comfortable around him, even though you weren’t each other’s first, he loved you unconditionally. That fact will never change. But if you had confessed your feelings to Rindou back then, instead of asking for Shinichiro’s help, then everything you felt for Shinichiro wouldn’t have existed.
“The night he confessed to me,” you began, propping yourself back up as you pushed Rindou back. “It was the same night he told me that you liked someone else.” You rested your head on his bare chest. “I remember crying about it in his arms, as if you yourself had rejected me.”
The thought of rejecting you never crossed his mind. Rindou would only think of loving you the best possible way to see you smile at him, but those were only fleeting fantasies he could dream of and wouldn’t think twice of making it come true while you were with Shinichiro.
“I would never reject you.” He solemnly said, touching his chin to your head.
“I know that now,” you pull away from him, taking his hand to place it on your cheek, nudging your head into the crook of his palm.
There was a moment of silence, anticipating silence, testing each other’s boundaries. Again, it was the silence that gave room for the other to do something they have no means of stopping. A silence that didn’t make any room for consequences of the other’s action.
Years of misunderstanding had caused the rift between you and Rindou, but the two of you had accepted it, blaming it on growing up and the universe taking its natural course of action. When in reality, you had been repressing those emotions, suffocating yourself and using Shinichiro as some sort of outlet to spill everything you’ve ever felt for Rindou onto him. Whether it was a one-sided relationship or actual love, you didn’t care, because you were glad that Shinichiro had been the one to show you what love is.
Rindou brushed his thumb over your cheekbones, wiping off the residue of your tears. He opened his mouth then closed it, hesitating. No, holding back his temptation to let his greed takeover, but he wanted to be right with you. He’d hurt you enough as it is and wanted to love you the right way, regardless of how long it’d take for him to learn. Just as long as it’s you.
“Can I kiss you?” Hunger, desperation, regret, finality.
You blinked a couple of times at the sight of his flustered face. How cute. You inch closer to him and cup his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his, gently parting them with your tongue. Rindou kept still in shock, but melted at the influence of your touch.
Finally, finally, finally. A weight both of you weren’t aware you were carrying lifted from your chest, releasing an overflowing amount of pent up emotions you’ve held back for each other.
Rindou twirled you around to have you straddled over his lap as you held his kiss, unbuttoning his shirt off of you.
“No, don’t,” he stops you. “Keep it on, my shirt looks good on you.”
He continued biting into your bare neck his shirt exposed, fondling your breasts and tracing your curves over the thin fabric of his shirt.
You can feel him get increasingly large from underneath, his hips nudge at you, moaning at the satisfaction of him pressing into your clit. “Fuck,” he rasped. “Can I put it in?”
“Do you want me to help you with that?” You smiled, taking in the satisfaction of his desperate breathing as you reach down to his cock.
Slightly lifting your hips, you can see the wet stain you left on his pants as you unzip it the rest of the way, unveiling his length and girth painfully throbbing to be touched. You teased his tip, rubbing it along your slit before pushing your weight onto his cock, feeling the indelible pleasure of it expanding your walls.
You gasp at Rindou jerking his hip up as he pushes your hips down, taking in his full length. He embraces you in his arms, holding you down on him, rutting his cock deeper into. Both of your pantings become faster and arrhythmic, losing yourselves in each other’s fulfilled longing. Then he thrusts one last time, grunting and shuddering, feeling his grasp tighten all over you. It felt warm, his cum filling you up feels warm, but not enough.
“Can I—,” he catches his breath, grunting from the few spurts of cum he released in you. “Can we go for another round?” He asked, falling back onto the bed with your head resting on his chest again.
“Yes,” you breathed. “However many rounds it’ll take for you to love me properly again.”
“I’ve always and forever will love you.”
Rindou tilts your face slightly towards him, pressing a soft and tender kiss to your forehead.
Always and forever.
If trauma was the only way to overwrite another trauma, then Rindou will make sure he’d be the epitome of it. Anything to make sure you’ll only think of him.
Note: Publishing this here, since I miss writing for this platform and realize how close I feel towards the fandom. This is more centred around emotional manipulation than smut, even though there are some erotic lines in here. Also, your cursed technique in this one is my OC’s technique, which I had drafted for a continuation of another plot in my docs; I needed to flesh out its functions properly, hence why I wrote this fic. Hope you like being in control, but without being selfish (if that makes sense)!
Pairing: Gojo x Fem! Reader
⚠️: mention of eating out, mention of cockwarming, emotional manipulation, minor vol.0 spoilers
Word Count: 1.9K
“You know, you’re not like any woman I’ve ever met before—
“Pause.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t start a conversation like that with me.”
“Why, because it’s not your first time hearing it?”
True, but also, “because I don’t plan on being treated special. At least not like that.”
Gojo gently chuckles, a small grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “How do you plan on being treated, if these words aren’t to your liking?”
“Like Nanami.”
Gojo glances at you from his phone, bursting with flirty notifications, eyes narrowing at the suggestive thought of Nanami.
Both of you were still in bed from last night. You were laying on top of Gojo, hearing the steady beat of his heart from his chest. The anticipating exhilaration of wanting to gently disrupt that slight calm in his chest, and mold him to your comfort, sends a shiver of excitement through your veins.
He drops his phone to the ground. “Whatever he could do—”
“No,” you push yourself off from his chest to straddle your hips on top of his. “The way Nanami treats me is much more than special, do you want to know how I know that—actually, no.” You retrace your thoughts, correcting your choice of words. “To show you how I know that? Make you feel what it’s like to be touched by Nanami?”
Loved by Nanami.
He exhales a scoff, placing his firm hands on your thighs, sliding them up to your waist and brushing his thumbs over your hips. “Enlighten me.”
It was a love that Gojo thought he knew, experienced, but didn’t. A love that died the moment he killed it—killed him. One he never got to fully experience in its whole raw form of an emotion.
Eloquently, like always, touch is the first sense you activate in Gojo; the feeling of your gentle fingers caressing underneath his jaw, satiating his touch deprivation—a specific type of touch deprivation. Not the ones that fill the void to curb the feeling of emptiness, but the one that makes him remember, reliving the shadows of his youth and what he took for granted; not that you could ever replace that feeling, his place, but you can feed it from time to time.
You didn’t even need to press your palm to the corner of Gojo’s jaw because the moment your touch connected with his nerves, he had been reawakened with desire—the need for a longing he misses and regrets. Gojo nudged his head into your palm, conforming to the shape of him; exhaling a release of tension that made him furrow his brows in a hurt expression as he’s reminded of the only person he loved the most.
Little did he know that your specialty was rooted in emotions, not just from everyone, but from anything capable of harbouring it—curses included, whether they know it or not because that is what they were birthed from: excess emotions of humans, excluding sorcerers (of course), but that didn’t mean sorcerers were incapable of withholding such complexities. To control one’s cursed energy is to control their emotions that drive it.
Only Nanami was able to fully control it on command and with fine precision, but that’s only when he’s not on overtime mode. When he wasn’t working, you could feel waves of his emotions boldly and more refined than anyone else's. His came in singular, upfront, formation making it known, rather than scattered and mixed—emotions hidden by other emotions—which was common in the majority of everything. Even in bed, watching him sleep soundlessly by your side, his emotions came in calm clear waves, whispering at you; a gentleness that surprisingly made you crave more.
But Gojo?
Gojo was nothing, yet everything. He was a vast void of emptiness, which scared you at first because he didn’t feel human, until you found out that in order to fill that emptiness, he had to feel something from someone. He was a pure recipient. There wasn’t an organism alive, or discovered, on this planet that was capable of being a pure recipient to your technique. You’ve trained yourself to only take, unable to test the possibility of giving, since you were the first of your kind.
Luckily, with Gojo, you were able to take a step into the discovery of giving with your technique: in order for it to be received safely, the recipient had to consent to it. The first emotion you tested with him was happiness, a safe option to start with. After testing out the main emotions, you’ve moved to the complex ones and have found out that you were an amplifier and a controller to sorcerers. You were an unlimited amount of cursed energy that can take and give when needed and when wanted. When in tune with a sorcerer, you were able to control the input and output of their energies, but every technique came with a consequence.
You begin to mimic Nanami’s emotional rhythm to Gojo, flooding his core of the absence with small doses of each emotion, absorbing everything you’re giving. Forcefully and violently, Gojo’s starvation tugs at you, consciousness and all, but you refuse to lose focus.
“This is what it’s like to be more than special.”
Gojo quivers at the feeling of you. You pull away, testing his neediness, but he firmly grabs you by the wrist bringing your palm back to where you placed it.
“Don’t,” he exhales.
The heat of his breath against your wrist as he kisses it, starving for more.
You slow down the flow of emotions, testing (again) how much he’s willing to take. Starvation is viewed as an easy fix, but dangerous when triggered, because once a body is aware that it’s starving and has been given a taste of what it’s like to be satisfied it will want more—uncontrollably more.
Gojo side glances at you, glaring at you through narrowed eyes, aware that you stopped the input of what he longed for, but you keep your composure waiting for his next action.
Startling you, he flips you onto the bed and hovers over you, not knowing what to do next—where to take from you. You have already established auto-consent of your technique between you and him, much like how his limitless technique runs automatically when it’s on, so he’s able to take it whenever. Whatever much satisfies him.
Gojo leans into you, pressing his lips against yours, parting them with his tongue. With every kiss he places on you, he takes it greedily and with a loathed expression, hating how much he knew he needed it—needed you.
You gasp at the rush of adrenaline arching your back, curling your toes, as you bite your lip to stifle a laugh. “How does it feel?” You probed.
He was heavily breathing against your skin. “Not enough.”
This is what it was like to be loved by Nanami: feeling wanted from your past to your future, desired every fibre of your being, attention, longing. He was capable of anything immeasurable because he was the balance to everything. If you were chaos, he’d be your calm, and if you were calm, he’d be your chaos; the epitome of Yin and Yang. To Gojo, Nanami would be his calm.
“Then do it. You know it feels best that way.”
Gojo’s fingers twitched, hesitatingly tightening his grip around your waist, trying so hard to fight the addiction of your technique, but—as always—he gives in.
“You know I hate you for what you are,” his kisses trail further down your stomach.
“Yet you desire me, whether you like it or not you gravitate towards me. You didn’t need to treat me special because I already know I am.” You gasp, feeling his tongue pressing against your clit.
“Then why mention Nanami?”
“Because he is your trigger.” Your fingers run through his hair, chest steadily heaving from Gojo’s pleasure. “He is the closest shape to what you lost—Geto—you miss him too much to function properly that you refuse to move on from your past.” Gojo lifts his head from your cunt, jerking his cock in his hand, preparing to press it into you and focus on only taking.
Gojo guides your legs, folding your knees to your chest. He rubs the length of him against your slicked cunt, appetizing you for what’s to come next. He didn’t have to look at you to show you that he acknowledged the truth behind your words, he didn’t have to admit, because you can already feel the sharp waves of his remorse as you tone it down. They were adamant waves, pleading for you to take it away, erase it—please, I’m begging you. Make it anything, but mine. It hurts so much, so please—but your technique doesn’t allow one to feel numb.
You dialed down the influx of sadness, remorse, regret and guilt, replacing them with love, lust, gratitude whatever it is; driving him to continue past the influences of your words. “You are not the strongest. You are the weakest with a strong technique.” He glares at you with the sliver of anger you gave him. The tip of his cock slowly enters, pressing all of his length against your walls, stretching you with his girth.
“You’re wrong,” his voice gruff with torment, thrusting into you with hate.
A ripple of ecstasy shoots through your body, almost making you lose your concentration. “No, you needed to know why you felt so empty all this time. Once you got a taste of what I was capable of, you finally found your answer. Except—fuck.” You stifle a moan as your walls hug around his cock. His hands tighten around the back of your thighs. “Except, you didn’t crave me to fill that void for you. You crave me because you love the feeling of absence. Not my absence, but the absence of the emotions you didn’t relish enough in your youth.”
He spreads your legs wider apart, shoving his cock to the brim of you, but stops.
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” You cooed, pulling Gojo into your arms as you cockwarm him, making him trust the feeling of your comfort.
Gojo shuts his eyes.
The weight of him and his feelings coiling in on you and wrapping his arms around your head, slightly peeking from the curve of his neck.
You tune up the lust, overflow him with it so that it reciprocates back to you; hints of his wants purposefully scattered in the river of emotions, pleading for you to take it.
In order to keep Gojo under control, the higher ups have hired you to keep him in check. Obviously, you don’t trust them, so you only allowed them the basic knowledge of your technique.
Little do they know that the consequence of your technique would turn you into a curse itself—the first curse to be created by sorcerers, drained of your humanity.
You would be the first curse created by Gojo, and he wouldn’t even realize it until it’s too late.
“Stay like this,” Gojo wraps his arms around you tightly, still keeping the flow of emotions consistent.
You run a finger down his spine as you increase the one feeling that would break him—the cherry on top.
Betrayal.
“I’m sorry,” you softly replied with laughter in your eyes. “But we’re just getting started.”
You press your lips to his forehead, initiating his addiction.
An addiction Nanami was void of, annulled to, meaning another discovery you have yet to experience.
Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ dry humping, virgin!Itadori, slight spit kink, cumplay, finger sucking, aged up characters
A/N: This was just going to be a little drabble, but I forgot about the most fundamental rule: I have no self-control when it comes to Itadori. Pics are a manga panel from a doujin by Hino!
WC: 2.4K
Based off this ask:
Hear me out. a heavy dry humping with a virgin Yuuji😰 and to make it even worse y/n is in a skirt SDFSSDSHJK HEAD VERY FULL
Itadori is saving himself.
He says it to you solemnly, seriously, his hands curled into loose fists above his knees as he stares at you with an intensity you’ve grown far too familiar with. It’s almost the same look he gives you when your dress hem flips up a little too high, when your shirt dips a little too low, when you tug on his hair a little too roughly and his moan slips out a little too loud.
“Yes, it does.” He takes another puff of his cigarette.
“I was just asking if you were free or not—”
“Your habit of sleeping around isn’t for pleasure or self satisfaction anymore, right?” It was pointless trying to make someone like Tsukki come to the self-realization of his habit, so Suna decided to just force him to come out with it, regardless of the outcome. “Constantly sleeping around with no regard to whom you’re doing it with. And if I say no, then you’ll just call one of your toys out for the night.”
“I thought we agreed that this relationship wouldn’t go anywhere beyond fucking each other.” Tsukki was getting annoyed.
“Is it because of Kuroo’s girlfriend?” Suna ignored him, continuing to press onto the topic. “Is that why you feel the need to fuck someone tonight? Not because you’re turned on or anything, but because you hate the way you feel right now.”
“… shut up …”
Not yet.
“You were mad that there were no flaws to her because you needed to hate her in a reasonable sense.”
“I said shut up …”
More.
“You hated the jealousy you felt and compared yourself to her to see who would be better suited for Kuroo, knowing that he’s already happy in this relationship. You felt empty knowing this and wanted to fill that void with anything to ‘help’ you move on from Kuroo. And you think sex would do the trick?”
Tsukki avoided looking Suna in the eye with his fingers curled into a fist, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. Suna felt the need to keep on pressing him. Anything to let him vent out, so the thought of sex wouldn’t be an option for his outlet right now.
“If you don’t like the way sex is feeling—!”
A sharp pain shot through Suna’s cheek.
“Quit talking like you know how I feel!” Tsukki had slapped him hard across the face. “I don’t care about whether or not it feels good, I consented to it! So why do you even care?! I never asked you to care in the first place!” He snapped.
There.
“You may not have asked for it, but you need it! Someone to care for you, at least!” Suna fumed, letting the cigarette drop to the ground from his lips.
“For fucks sake, would you listen,” Suna sneered, grabbing Tsukki and holding him up against the wall by the arms. “The way you’re handling this isn’t right. You’re not thinking straight, you need to take a breather.”
“I’ll decide how I handle myself,” Tsukki yanked himself out of his grip, storming back into the restaurant.
Again, Suna wasn’t able to get through to him properly. It always ended like this anyways, everytime he tried to get Tsukki to let loose another way, he always ended up leaving him for another. Time and time again, he’d fight with Tsukki to reason with him, helping him be more self aware with himself.
Tsukki was right, Suna didn’t know how he felt and he might’ve been invasive with what he said, but Tsukki wouldn’t have reacted that way if what he said was wrong. He knows that feelings were out of the question, but is it so wrong to be worried about Tsukki’s well being, despite being in a sex-only relationship. Does he need to have feelings for him to care? Tsukki didn’t have to depend on him with everything, only when he felt like he couldn’t shoulder the burden anymore. That’s what Suna established this relationship for: not only to keep Tsukki from recklessly sleeping around with strangers, but to also help carry the burden for him. Communication, that was all Suna needed.
When he got back into the restaurant, Suna had forgotten about Tsukki slapping him across the face that his cheek had noticeably swollen up.
“Suna, your face!” Atsumu frantically put his glass of iced water to his cheek.
Suna winced, only realizing how painful it felt. That was one hell of a slap.
“What happened?!” Hinata worriedly asked.
Kageyama gave him his last yakitori to make him feel better, while Kenma asked the waiter for some ice.
“Hey, where’d Tsukki go?” Suna looked at his empty seat.
“He left to go meet up with a friend,” Hinata informed.
Friend my ass.
Memories of the sexual marks on Tsukki’s body flashed in Suna’s head.
He checked his phone for any messages. Nothing. Obviously, Tsukki wouldn’t message him any type of reassurance after fighting like that. Looking back on it now, he feels guilty for being the reason to push Tsukki into that decision. Fuck, I should’ve said yes.
“You okay?” Kenma asked with a concerned look on his face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Suna painfully smiled, laughing it off as he internally blamed himself for tonight’s ordeal. Thinking that he could’ve done better to help Tsukki.
* A picture of Suna and Tsukki with their fans is shared.*
~.x.~dinobear~.x.~: tsukki!!!
rrx.98: saw this on my friends ig, im so jealous😭
xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: LUCKY!!
keiko_katanaka_: (reply to @rrx.98) your friends are so cute !
rrx.98: (reply to @keiko_katanaka_) thank youuu, I honestly love them❤️❤️
user99109992844: where did the girl in the middle get her top from??
apple_pie_2: so prettyyyy
zoomzoom: @chuupetchi im saving this
zoomzoom: @sumatso @tofurice @orange.ritz
orange.ritz: Suna can smile🥺
sumatso: aww Sunaa
tofurice: 🥰
* A picture of Kenma, Hinata, Tsukki, Kageyama, Atsumu and Suna at their table at the Korean bbq restaurant is shared. *
user10177498232: omg! I work there but I wasn’t working this shift
user32334700981: WAS THIS TODAY???????
rrx.98: I work near there😮
bokurokuto: @zoomzoom you guys went without me?☹️
zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) @akaashikeiji
akaashikeiji: (reply to @bokurokuto) we went out today
~chan.yan05~: Ken and Hina are so cute !!
realanon00: I saw Suna and Tsukki head to the back, but I didn’t wanna follow after what happened to Suna
user44448103945: (reply to @realanon00) I feel bad for him ….
user30004847269: (reply to @realanon00) wait what happened
realanon00: (reply to @user30004847269) Suna had a stalker incident
* Article: Accused stalker who stabbed pro volleyball player pleads ‘not guilty’ by reason of insanity link is shared. *
* Article: Suna Rintarou of EJP taken out for the remainder of the season to recover from stab wounds link is shared. *
* Article: Pro volleyball player, Suna Rintarou, rushed to ICU in critical condition after altercation with stalker link is shared. *
* Article: Pro volleyball player, Suna Rintarou, miraculously survives critical stab wounds to the lower abdomen link is shared. *
* Article: Suna Rintarou in critical condition after stalker altercation, EJP coach rushes the decision to take him out for the rest of the season link is shared. *
* Article: Fans pray outside the hospital of Suna Rintarou, wishing him a speedy recovery link is shared. *
user30004847269: 😧😧😧😧😧
~chan.yan05~: aw man i remember this….
clx.90s: my heart sank when i read how bad his condition was
2k1990s: i remember watching the games, all of them started with a moment of silence for Suna
littletibetanfox: the atmosphere was so heavy during that season, im glad he recovered well
realanon00: Suna came back with a swollen cheek, but that was after Tsukki got back and left..
xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: 👀
godcomplex101: yikes😬
user50011823241: Tsukki and Suna have been hanging around each other a lot lately
apple_pie_2: but theyre in diff teams
godcomplex101: oop tea???
user30004847269: its also not the league season yet
realanon00: maybe they live together ?
rrx.98: their teams are in diff prefex
clx.90s: i mean they have summer practices now so maybe its another training camp 🤷♀️
apple_pie_2: truu
zoomzoom: @chuupetchi
orange.ritz: (reply to @zoomzoom) 😗
sumatso: (reply to @zoomzoom) Suna you good?
darealest02: i know Tsukishima sleeps around a lot, my older brother went to college with him
rrx.98: (reply to @darealest02) wait whatt
_____fiveunderscores.: (reply to @darealest02) huuhhhh
clx.90s: yeah.. everytime i see a recent pic of him he always has a hickey somewhere new
zoomzoom: @guccibird @yachan96 collect your boy
guccibird: (reply to @zoomzoom) ….
yachan96: (reply to @zoomzoom) we’re not with him 24/7, its my first time hearing of this
bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) we see him most of the time, we can talk to him
zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) only during our summer intensives
bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) yeah! like now!
* A video recording of Suna and Tsukki fighting at the back of the restaurant from a public street view is shared. *
zoomzoom: 🤭
orange.ritz: noooo
bokurokuto: oh..
rrx.98: WHAT
guccibird: @yachan96 I CANT HEAR WHAT THEYRE SAYING
yachan96: (reply to @guccibird) WAIT ME TOO
clx.90s: DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT THEYR SAYING
zoomzoom: @chuupetchi I KNOW YOURE ONLINE
user30004847269: naahhhh
user30004847269: this is a lieeeee
xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: 😶😶
apple_pie_2: 😳
~chan.yan05~: 😨😨
realanon00: wait who uploaded this ???
realanon00: howd you get this
user77700178329: i was on my way back from work until i heard yelling coming from the restaurant
user77700178329: it was eerily quiet too, so they were loud
user50011823241: shiiit
* A video recording of Suna and Tsukki fighting at the back of the restaurant from a public street view was removed. *
realanon00: oh?
user77700178329: awkard
apple_pie_2: that was quick
sumatso: @zoomzoom you get that?
zoomzoom: (reply to @sumatso) ya I got that
sumatso: (reply to @zoomzoom) send that to us @tofurice @orange.ritz @guccibird @yachan96
zoomzoom: @bokurokuto practice is gonna look awkward….
bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) dw we can fix this 😊
zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) no, its not our business
bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) their our friends 👯
bokurokuto: (reply to @zoomzoom) they need our help
zoomzoom: (reply to @bokurokuto) @akaashikeiji
akaashikeiji: @bokurokuto i think we should leave this to them
xxx.~ali.supremacy~.xxx: could they be dating ??
~chan.yan05~: dont know, i mean if they are theyre doing a good job at keeping it lowkey
rrx.98: 👀👀
user77700178329: nah theyre just friends
user77700178329: i overheard Suna trying to get Tsukishima to stop sleeping around, apparently hes getting outta hand now😬
2k1990s: oh nooo😔
clx.90s: i feel bad, I hope he’s okay
apple_pie_2: ew..😒
littletibetanfox: i hope Suna’s okay, that slap looked painful 😖
Note: The reblogged continuations looked weird on phone format, so here’s a cleaner one with a link for Part 1. Link for Part 3 will be updated here tomorrow!
⚠️: Reader’s discretion is advised. This chapter contains forms of dubious consent and explores the theme of sex being used as self-harm.
They sat together in comforting silence, thinking of nothing but the serenity of having each other by their sides.
“Hey, Tsukki.”
“Mm?”
“Just message me next time you feel like sleeping around.”
Contemplating silence. Maybe what he said was stupid, or Tsukki had fallen asleep, or he’ll be met with another cold—
“Okay.”
Suna blinked, taken back by surprise. “What?”
“I said okay.”
“Oh.”
“What do you mean ‘oh’?”
“No, I just—I thought you’d be opposed to it.”
“They’re not as … good … as you,” Tsukki mumbled.
Suna grabs his face tilting it up.
“Assho—!”
“Say that again.”
“No!” Tsukki shakes his head out of his hand, so that he could turn around and face him properly. “Just because I’m sleeping with you doesn’t mean I like you, okay? Pleasure. We’re only using each other for pleasure, okay?”
Suna knows.
“I know. But I couldn’t quite catch what you said before, you put water in my ears.”
“I said, they’re not as good as you.”
“Not as good as me in—?” He baited Tsukki to fill in the blank.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“Say it, or I’ll drown you,” Suna said over Tsukki’s voice.
“They’re—” Tsukki’s ears were turning red again, “they’re not … they’re not as good as you in bed! There I said it!”
Suna burst out laughing. Tsukki kept splashing him to calm him down, but he was having too much fun poking at Tsukki after he had admitted how good Suna was compared to the other guys.
They finished up their bath in silence, Tsukki fell asleep while they were in the tub, so Suna finished cleaning him up first. After dressing Tsukki in clean clothes and putting him to bed in the spare bedroom, he went back to the bathroom to finish his bath with a quick shower.
Finally alone, he let out a loud sigh. “Fuck,” he mutterd under his breath.
Suna knows. He knows what he’s in denial of, he knows that Tsukki likes Kuroo, he knows that Tsukki would never choose him, that he’s just a rebound to pass time as Tsukki gets his shit together. I know, I know, I know I know I know I know I know. I. Know. But this relationship was better than nothing. He didn’t care what he had to sacrifice, as long as it kept Tsukki from spiraling out of control. And if it costs him to break a relationship to make Tsukki happy, he’d do it in a heartbeat, because that’s all he wanted Tsukki to be. To be happy.
“Oi, Suna!”
Tsukki waved his hand over his face. “What are you dozing off for?”
“Nothing, just thinking about what to have for dinner later on.”
“Hinata, Kenma and Atsumu are trying to invite us for korean bbq tonight. You coming?”
“Sure, I’m free.”
A couple of weeks have passed since he dropped by Kenma’s place to hand Atsumu a package Osamu needed to get to him urgently. He had planned to give it to Tsumu as soon as he saw him, but everytime he did, the package wasn’t with him in person. Osamu kept reminding him to the point of pestering paranoia that he ended up at Kenma’s place in the middle of the night, so that he could finally sleep in peace and not have nightmares of Osamu killing him for not delivering the package in a timely manner. Thank God Kenma allowed him to stay over. According to Atsumu, the package wasn’t even a big deal as Osamu made it out to be. Again, Suna got caught in the twins’ antics and bickering over the phone. The package in question wasn’t physically that big (looking at it from the outside), but when he caught Atsumu opening it and holding it in his hand the physical appearance didn’t matter anymore. Suna had delivered an engagement ring to Atsumu on behalf of Osamu, not knowing the story behind it and not caring to know it. Not a big deal my ass.
Once Suna’s paranoia disappeared, he was finally able to resume back to his daily life routines. Except, this day also wasn’t part of his routine.
“Where are you taking us?” he questioned Tsukki to remind him again.
“Shopping for new shoes.”
“Couldn’t you do that alone?”
“Yeah, but then I won’t have an excuse to get out of conversations with fans that I bump into. I’ve been bumping into them almost everyday thanks to Kenma’s Portugal vlog with Hinata, and his fans have been asking me to do another one with Kenma too.”
Tsukki grimaced, while looking at the maps app on his phone, leading the way to the store he wanted to checkout.
It’s true Kenma’s fans go overboard about wanting to know what goes on with everyone that appears in his videos, but as long as they don’t force themselves onto them, then it’s fine.
“Hey, could you guys be Tsukishima Kei and Suna Rintarou? Volleyball players, right?” A cheery woman walked up to them, coupled by two of her friends waiting close by to confirm their curiosity.
“Yeah, you watch our games?” Suna replied with a smile, covering for Tsukki. “Sorry, he’s a bit shy.”
“Oh that’s okay, we didn’t mean to take up your time,” she clarified hurriedly, “we just wanted to know if it was okay to get a picture with you guys?” She timidly asked, perked with anticipation.
“We don’t mind,” Suna kicked Tsukki’s foot, still keeping his facade on. “We have a bit of time to spare for you guys, right Tsukki?”
A harmless response, yet calculative in a polite way to let their fans know that they’re only free for the picture and nothing more.
Tsukki fidgets behind Suna then reluctantly steps out, properly greeting his fans.
One of the girls tried holding the phone in an angle that could get them all together, but Tsukki and Suna were too tall.
“Here, how ‘bout I hold it for us,” Suna offered, winking at the woman, which sent her into a flustered expression. “Okay! Ready, one, two—”
“Three!” They ended the chant in unison.
Once they confirmed their satisfaction with the picture, they bowed their goodbyes to each other.
“What’d you do to make her friend blush like that?”
“Fan service.”
“Not scared that you could’ve turned her into a stalker?”
“Don’t need to be scared. Stalkers start their day stalking, she started the day with her friends not knowing they’d bump into us.”
“That’s some deduction.”
“I’ve dealt with a few stalkers before, so it’s only natural to know so I could avoid it in the future.”
“Scary.”
“Is it around here?” Suna looked around for the shoe store Tsukki had on his phone, swiftly changing a conversation he didn’t want to get into details about.
The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine.
“Ah, over—here.”
“Tsukki?”
“You guys are here too?”
Just as they spotted the store, Suna and Tsukki bumped into Hinata, Kageyama and the woman Suna saw in the gossip articles, Kuroo’s girlfriend.
“Tsukishima, Suna … what the hell?” Kageyama narrowed his eyes in annoyance.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Kageyama wanted to improve his foreign language skills with her, but we also planned to buy shoes afterwards, so we met at Kuroo’s place and now we’re finishing the day off with shoes.” Hinata rambled, explaining their day to Tsukki.
“No, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean it literally.”
“Dumbass,” Kageyama snickered.
“Huh? But you asked.”
“That’s,” Tsukki sighed in defeat, “nevermind.” He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, by the way, this is Kuroo’s girlfriend.” He introduced you to Suna.
“Hello,” Suna bowed.
You bowed in return.
For someone who’s usually sneering at almost everyone, Tsukki was composed, unable to look anyone in the eye.
“We can come back later on if you want,” Suna spoke to him in a low voice.
“Why? We’re already here.”
Suna and Tsukki followed behind the trio into the store.
What Suna could tell from Tsukki wasn’t anger, jealousy or sadness, he was uncomfortable and awkward—withdrawn—maybe because everyone else seemed to get along with her and Tsukki didn’t know how. The one thing they had in common was their feelings towards Kuroo, from what Suna can presume.
“Are you gonna shop for shoes too?” You asked, trying to strike up a conversation.
“Nah, I only came ‘cause of Tsukki.”
Out of the five of them, you and Suna stood by waiting for the three to pick their shoes as they made snarky remarks at each other.
“Are you finding the stay okay?” Suna picked the conversation up.
“Yeah, it’s okay,” your feet fidget. “I’m finally able to take a well needed vacation after working non-stop for a year.”
“What do you work as?”
A question not asked out of curiosity, only to keep the conversation from dying in awkward silence.
“Artist, specifically a painter.”
“Nice. I never thought of Kuroo as the artsy type, so how’d you guys meet?”
“Through Kenma,” your eyes softened. “We were able to meet thanks to him.”
Kenma? “Oh, you knew Kenma first?”
“Yeah, although I only met Kuroo in person after a few years of being friends with Kenma,” you nervously laughed.
A few years? Suna thought back to what he knew from the articles, but he never thought about the extent of your relationship with Kenma. Your connection with him only surfaced when the rumours between you and Kuroo were making headlines. You also never appeared in any of his videos, nor were you ever mentioned by Kenma himself. So who were you to Kenma?
“Did you meet Kenma as a fan?”
“No, I actually didn’t know he was a pro gamer until afterwards.”
“Oh?”
“We met at E3, and I guess Kenma came as a shareholder instead of what he’s known for.”
“So you game at the side too.”
“No, not as seriously as Kenma. I went as a shareholder as well.”
“Hey! You guys wanna head to the bbq place now?” Hinata interrupted.
Kageyama and Tsukki trailed behind him, looking satisfied with their new purchases.
“Oh, I’m heading back for the day. I still haven’t prepared Kuroo’s dinner and he’s working overtime today,” you politely declined.
“Aw, boo,” Hinata pouted.
“Sorry, maybe another time. I still have a few more months before I leave.”
Hinata continued making excuses for Kuroo to starve, so that you could join them for the bbq, but you seemed to purposefully be avoiding hanging out with them.
“Do you not like us?!”
“That’s not what I’m saying!” You yelled back at Hinata. “I’m saying that I’ll look like a whore if I’m the only girl there!”
“Then I’ll be a whore with you!”
“That’s not how it works!”
“Oi, if she said no it’s no! And that’s Kuroo’s girlfriend you’re trying to ask out!” Kageyama smacked him upside the head.
After Tsukki broke the fight off, they decided to drop you off at the station. Suna felt disappointed at the thought of not getting to know you better, there were still questions he wanted to ask, but at least he got to see how the others were around you. Although, Tsukki had different reasons for being the way he was.
Hinata and Kageyama didn’t even talk about you behind your back, once you were gone. Kageyama was excitedly going over his new phrases and vocabulary with Hinata, and talked about how easy it was to learn from you, like a kindergartener talking about their first day of school. On the other hand, Hinata was still annoyed that you weren’t able to come, but he was already planning where and whom to hangout with next. Their excitement expressed how comfortable and happy they are to be around you, except for Tsukki.
Tsukki neither expressed his like or dislike of you, not that Suna knew anything about you, yet. He barely got to know you, except for the fleeting, but daunting, mention of Kenma. A thought he’ll overthink before he sleeps in the nights to come.
They arrived at the korean bbq place and found Kenma and Atsumu at their reserved table at the back corner of the restaurant, right by the washroom.
“Took you guys long enough,” Atsumu scooted over, making room for the rest.
“Hinata was begging her to join us and wouldn’t let go until we dropped her off at the station,” Kageyama exasperated.
Kenma turned to Hinata, putting his phone in his pocket. “Someone’s attached.”
“But she’s fun to be around and it’s not like she’ll be here for long,” Hinata sulked.
“You can see her another time. It’s not like she’s gone forever.”
“You can see her any time. I don’t have that much money like you to be saying it that easily.”
It’s true. Out of everyone seated at the table, Kenma was the only one rich enough to say he could travel easily, despite them being pro athletes. Must be nice to be that free.
Time flew by fast as they got lost in their conversations and topics, blissfully filling their stomachs with good food and light beer.
Suna couldn’t help but overthink about the way your name sounded coming from Kenma’s mouth, but they had suddenly stopped mentioning you after a quick change of topic, thanks to Atsumu. There was no mention about the ring Osamu had been pestering Suna to give to him, so he had assumed that it could be fake, although the conversation the twins had over the phone sounded serious.
Tsukki was seated across from him, intently listening in to Atsumu and Hinata rambling on about their sponsorships and what to do in their upcoming fans meeting, while scrolling through his phone. Placid as usual, but nothing out of the ordinary … though he can feel Tsukki brushing his foot up his ankle under the table in a discreet manner. He glances up to Tsukki, nonchalantly keeping a poker face, blending in with the right reactions to the conversation. Suna knows he was the one who proposed this type of relationship first, but his intentions weren’t the same as what Tsukki is probably thinking of.
Suna gets up from the table, naturally Atsumu and Kageyama adjust themselves to make room for Suna to get out with ease. “I’ll be back,” he tells them.
He takes a trip to the washroom and heads out the back door of the restaurant for a smoke. And of course, after a while, Tsukki followed him outside.
“You free tonight?” Tsukki asked in a mellow tone, lightly tapping Suna’s feet with his.
“Again?”
“So you’re not free?”
Everything clicked in Suna’s head. It all made sense now, and he was right to keep Tsukki close to him by proposing this type of relationship. Whenever Suna turned him down to fuck, it’s not that Tsukki agreed with his answer, he just found another way to get what he wanted by calling someone else. The options Tsukki keeps in his phone is just his last resort, if things didn’t go the way he wanted them to. The only time Tsukki wants to fuck is when something related to Kuroo comes up; the point where he wants to forget the most. How could Suna not notice after all this time they spent together? Tsukki never talked about how he really felt about anything. This whole time Suna thought that Tsukki was getting better, but he had actually gotten worse. Maybe this relationship wasn’t a good idea in the first place, but Suna didn’t want to risk going back to how it was in the past, especially with how their relationship is now.
I just realized how weird the reblogged continuations looked on phone format. I’ll delete those and re-upload them separately. I’ll also add the links to each part on the posts. Sorry about my indecisiveness 😅
Eternal Damnation @sweetcathedral - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
