#this time it’s about Peach Blossom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

storiesoflilies · 1 month ago

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in your peach blush dreams

synopsis : in which sukuna unexpectedly stumbles upon something – or rather, someone – he almost never believed could exist. w.c: 2.7k.

pairing : soulmate!florist!sukuna x f!reader

warnings : FLUFF! non curse au. adorably grumpy sukuna who only pretends he doesn’t believe in love or soulmates.

a/n : based on this request. hope you enjoy nonie!! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @gothsuguru @bungalowbear @hiraethwrote , i hope you love your cameos <3

divider / ao3

ryomen sukuna was a skeptic.

point. cut. blank.

anybody who knew him knew it well.

he didn’t believe in ghosts, poltergeists, or any of the things that cry and go bump in the night. there was always a logical explanation for everything and anything that happened outside the realm of normalcy. the world was ruled by physics and chemistry and numbers, and even though he was a florist, sukuna understood and wholeheartedly accepted the beauty of science.

however, there was one teeny, tiny thing that completely – and rather rudely – disregarded all of his beliefs.

and it was only a little dream.

one that he had been having since he was old enough to remember things.

sukuna couldn’t remember if there were before this particular one started, or even if any occurred after it. but he always remembered how he knew it was coming – the way his stomach would churn and lurch, like he was being catapulted from a cannon, free-falling through a black expanse of space and time and stars.

and then, sukuna would land face-first into a field of marshmallow-soft petals, bathed in the light of a pink sunrise.

at first, he didn’t know what sort of flowers had cushioned his fall. it took him quite a number years to even attempt sketching them, using a cheap set of coloring pencils he’d bought with his pocket money. and even, not a single person he showed his scratchings to had any clue at all.

it frustrated him to no end.

sukuna would always end up crumpling his drawings in his little fists and hurling them straight into the bin.

and try again.

and again.

it wasn’t until he was sixteen that he finally found the answer he had been looking for.

sukuna had just gotten a job working part-time at a flower shop after school. at first, the thought of being there was beyond humiliating. his twin brother had relentlessly teased him about it when he found out, which quickly resulted in a flurry of knuckles and fists.

he arrived to his first shift with a sour look and a black eye.

io, the shop owner at the time, gave him a humorous look with soft, chocolate eyes and taught him how to speak the language that only flowers knew. how to listen to the soft poetry held within the curl of their leaves and petals, telling you everything they needed to bloom.

in time, sukuna learned to enjoy it.

but he would never admit it to anyone.

one day, the shop received a rather large delivery of frighteningly familiar baby pink flowers. sukuna froze, his hands slippery and wet from the water droplets falling from the stems.

“what are those?” he’d gritted out, disbelief coated on his cracked lips.

io took one glance at the flowers in his grip, and answered, “oh, they’re zinnia flowers.”

zinnia flowers.

he whispered under his breath, testing how the letters rolled over and under his tongue.

after all this time, the answer to the mystery flower was finally in his palm, and sukuna couldn’t decide whether or not he felt relieved or disturbed about it.

all he could muster in response was, “right.”

io stared at him, and a young sukuna felt himself shrink a little under her gaze, his cheeks blossoming a brilliant red shade like the david austin roses beside him. he pretended to ignore her, distracting himself by placing bunches of flowers into water buckets and slowly, meticulously, arranging every single stem beautifully in the display window.

sukuna hated every second of it.

he felt like every single pink petal on those flowers were mocking him, laughing at him for being so wound up over them.

it was so unbelievably pathetic.

he’d never felt more like a loser in his whole life.

because despite all his beliefs about the supernatural and a higher power, he couldn’t hate those flowers even if he tried to, not really.

because they were hers.

the other person already sitting there in his dreams in an endless field of zinnia blooms.

she wouldn’t notice him straight away, even though sukuna crash-landed in a heap just beside her leg. she was too busy staring up at the clouds painted in strokes and swirls of blushing pink, with the sun bleeding in tones of vibrant peach. all he could notice was how her lips were parted in wonder as she took everything in around her with a wondrous energy.

it was only when he pushed himself up to sit beside her that she finally noticed him.

and laughed.

and it was the most beautiful thing sukuna had ever heard in his life.

it was joyously infectious, and he couldn’t help his own laughter from bubbling up from deep within his chest like a volcano. they laughed together for what seemed like hours, the limits of time stretching on forever in the land of dreams, and sukuna felt the angry fire in his soul simmer just a little.

and he would become sad.

because he knew this was when the dream would always end.

he’d open his bloodstained eyes to the dreadfully familiar, dull white ceiling that belonged to his bedroom, and sukuna would know he was back at square one all over again.

feeling alone.

so unbearably alone.

because the dream would still linger in those precious few minutes after he woke up, a ghost hovering over a gray sea. sukuna could feel the other half of his soul slipping away to wherever she belonged to in this vast world, and he would selfishly claw for her, begging and screaming in his mind.

don’t go! don’t go! don’t go!

sukuna wasn’t stupid; he knew she couldn’t stay, but that didn’t stop a bitter taste from spreading over his tongue like a drop of lemon juice.

it twisted him inside, and he hated the universe for making him yearn so deeply for someone he had never even met.

and might never.

it didn’t take long for io to catch on. she was always acutely aware of people, and to be known by her was to always be seen and understood.

“they scare you, don’t they?” io murmured to him gently, too gently for sukuna’s liking. “the zinnias.”

he snorted dismissively, cutting perfect forty-five degree angles into the stems of snow peonies. “i am not afraid of a fucking flower, io.”

she arched a brow, unimpressed. “no?”

“no.”

“are you sure?”

sukuna huffed and rolled his eyes, adding tufts of baby’s breath to the bouquet he was assembling. io leaned over the birch countertop, her wrists adorned with various pink ribbons and a playful twinkle in her eyes.

“i know what it is,” she said in a sing-song voice, drumming her nails against the wood.

he ignored her again, a blooming pink starting to grace the tips of his ears, and busied himself wrapping a brown piece of paper around his finished piece.

“what?”

she didn’t answer, cryptically singing about knowing things and of a man she would know one day come to know, with hair as white as the peonies in sukuna’s bouquet and eyes brighter than bluebells. it was only five years to the day, when io married that very man she had been singing about, that he realized she had known all along what had been on his mind.

and now, at the tender age of twenty-one, ryomen sukuna wondered when it would be his turn to love.

and be loved in return.

❀᭢᜴꤬

when she was a child, she used to love drawing.

and the thing she loved to draw most was him.

the boy she saw in her dreams. they weren’t very good drawings – just two stick figures holding each other’s circles for hands, one with bright fuchsia hair because that was the closest color she had in her pencil kit. they would be standing in a field of flowers too, though the blooms were just colorful blobs scattered around their stick feet.

“not it!” she’d exclaim, pouting pitifully. “not what he looks like!”

her two best friends, kairo and ari, shuffled through their pencil cases, offering her shade after shade of pink pencils, but she shook her head at them each time. after a while, she would start to wail, despair clutching her little heart in its claws. her friends would put their arms around her, offering her all the trinkets and sweets they had in their pockets, just to see her smile again.

but they couldn’t understand how she really felt, how lonely she was sometimes, because they had already completed their souls.

ari had their kenjaku – their kenny.

and kairo had her suguru.

they had found their souls at such a young age and would never know just how much of the rest of the world felt for most, if not all, of their lives. they always had someone to watch over them. even now, the two twin boys were staring at them, gauging whether they would also burst into tears alongside her, ready to step in and make them smile again.

that was all she wanted, really.

for the pink-haired boy in her dreams to make her smile when she needed it.

as she grew that little bit older, her dream became more vivid. she could remember more details – how the sky was aflame in peach and coral, the sweet smell of the flowers beneath her, and how her boy would land next to her. she could even feel how much it was him that needed to smile.

so she laughed.

and laughed and laughed until he did too.

she wished she could stay there in that dream with him and make him laugh forever.

but she couldn’t do that.

in his sadness, there was strength too – something unyielding, strong enough to bring mountains to their knees. it told her to stay strong, to be like him, to keep her chin up and tell the world that she would live.

so she did.

she went on with her life, making sure to laugh often and well.

she grew up witnessing and being surrounded by love. high school and university presented their own challenges, filled with late-night cramming sessions and caffeine-induced hazes. she watched more and more of the friends find their souls, pairing off in effortless harmony while she lingered on in the stardust of their love.

but she still continued to live.

still kept an eye out for a particular head of pink hair wherever she went.

and now that she was done school, entering the big, bad world of work, her heart longed all the more for the boy from her dreams – who no longer looked like a boy at all.

he was a beautiful man now.

with dark tattoos etched into skin, mysterious lines and circles that perhaps told the story of his life. she wanted to know all about them, if they even meant anything to him at all, and if they were a angry shield to protect himself from people getting too close.

she hoped it wasn’t.

she didn’t want to be one of those left locked out.

“you’ll find him,” jess said encouragingly to her one day, as she was lost in a daydream of pink flower fields.

jess always knew when she was there.

she hummed softly, chewing on the plain cheese sandwhich she’d brought for her lunch break.

“so,” jess began, in an effort to distract her. “any nice plans for your time off?”

“uh, yeah actually. my best friend is getting married, so i’ll be helping her out this week to get everything ready.”

“oh, that sounds really nice!”

then, nanami kento walked into the staff room, his tired eyes brightening at the sight of jess sitting there, happily munching on the lunch he had no doubt prepared for her that morning. her friend sighed wistfully, a fond smile on her face as the blonde man took a seat beside her.

suddenly, there were two and a half souls in the room.

and she couldn’t help but smile, hoping that her time was coming.

it had to be.

❀᭢᜴꤬

“hea, do we have any lilies in the back? i need them.”

sukuna took another quick glance at the behemoth of a man in front of him, who shifted from one foot to the other, his green eyes darting all around the shop.

“urgently.”

“just a sec!”

the shop was silent for a moment, with only the sound of the fan blowing and the soft snip, snip, snip of sukuna trimming zinnia stems. he looked up again at customer, raising an eyebrow at how nervous the poor man looked while waiting.

“we have these white roses here,” sukuna suggested, pointing with his scissors at a small bunch. “in case we don’t have any white lilies.”

the man shook his head. “no, no. they have to be lilies. her name is lily.”

sukuna might have once laughed, but it was the way the man said her name with a hushed sort of reverence – and the tip of a velvet box peeping out from his trousers – that he understood who she really was to him.

so sukuna didn’t laugh.

“it’s really important,” he added, dark locks sticking to his forehead, as if that alone would convince the grumpy florist.

sukuna sighed, setting down his scissors and wiping his hands on his shirt. “i’ll see what i can do for you.”

so he went to the back himself, assembling a bouquet of white lilies, adding white pampas grass for flair and eucalyptus for softness. sukuna spent quite a bit of time on it – more than he probably should have – fluffing and adjusting every petal and leaf until it was absolutely perfect.

it was worth the effort.

the man’s palpable relief was infectious, making the corner of sukuna’s lips twitch upwards.

“keep your money,” he grunted, his nose slightly turned up. “just come back here to get what you need for the wedding.”

the bell at the front door tinkled in farewell as the man left, and sukuna picked up where he left off. there was a bridal party order for tomorrow, and of course, he was in charge of creating the bride’s bouquet.

sukuna always was.

“hea!” he called out. “if you need a hand with the bridesmaids’ bouquets let me know. i’m almost done here.”

the doorbell tinkled.

but he wasn’t looking up.

“i’m good!” hea answered back, her voice faint.

sukuna clicked his tongue disapprovingly, not liking the shade of ribbon he was holding against the peach-colored zinnia in the bouquet. he dipped down behind the counter, arms stretched above him and fingers drumming on the wood as he scanned through the mess of ribbons and other decorations tucked away in small cubicles.

hmph! nothing.

sukuna pushed himself back up.

and there she was.

staring at all the shades of pretty pink zinnias that sukuna had painstakingly displayed the day before.

his heart actually stuttered.

and before he knew it, he had somehow slipped and landed face down on the ground.

“fuck!”

“oh!”

sukuna pushed himself back up, stumbling like a newborn foal, his eyes completely and utterly fixed on her while a poor zinnia lay crushed beneath his foot.

but that didn’t matter in the slightest.

because holy good god, she was looking at him too.

with her pretty lips parted in shock, and her pretty eyes wide and glossy, and her pretty hair looking exactly like it did in his – no, their – dream.

she’s here. she’s here. she’s here.

“i’m here for the bridal flowers for kairo!” she blurted out suddenly.

sukuna inhaled sharply.

what a pretty voice.

“t-that’s– ahem – not due until tomorrow,” he whispered, almost inaudibly.

her eyes widened a fraction more, if that was even possible. then, her features completely relaxed as she tipped her head back and laughed.

and laughed.

sukuna felt like he was back in his dream again.

only it was real this time – more real than anything.

he chuckled lowly, his laughter rising like helium, melding with hers in a gloriously wonderful crescendo.

and all sukuna could think of was.

finally.

i love you, i love you, i love you.

❀᭢᜴꤬

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 10 months ago

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I DREAM, NOW, OF A NORMAL LIFE WITH YOU ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…��

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

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heartkaji · 5 months ago

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‪‪❤︎‬ TEEN ROMANCE !

(n) — bllk boys & their kind of love. includes : isagi yoichi, reo mikage , nagi seishiro , oliver aiku

ISAGI YOICHI ! — romeo & juliette.

dating yoichi is sweat-soaked skin pressed against sweat-soaked skin on the mink fur rug of your bedroom floor carpet. isagi is yawn slash yearning—he kisses you silly with honey on his tongue & your back pressed against your bedroom floor with thighs wrapped around like ivy on his waist. there are bruises on your neck & cherry lipstick stains his cheeks & every minute or two you have to pull away because ‘i swear i hear my mom coming up the stairs.’ even so he nibbles at your neck & traces comets on your skin because ‘don’t worry pretty, she’ll never find us out.’ your heart’s in your throat & you swear the footsteps are getting louder but all you can do is swallow your chest & pray. you hug yoichi a little tighter because unlike romeo & juliet, your story will not end in split hearts & summertime sadness.

REO MIKAGE ! — skin & a country club

super rich kids make nothing but fake friends but the ghost of reo’s lips on yours is oh-so-sloppy yet oh-so-real. his mouth tastes like raspberry syrup & strawberry chambourd & when his palms slip below the seam of your skirt you think he is grace. you know that once the party’s over & it’s time to leave the yacht you’ll go back from star crossed lovers to trust fund babies who long for something more than riches & bloodline; so you tug at his hair & guide his hold to your hips in hopes he’ll hold you tighter & never let you go.

NAGI SEISHIRO ! — lovelorn lethargy

nagi seishiro is lazy lover & lazy kisses & lazy touch on your waist, neck, everywhere. he smells like sea foam deluxe & cotton elixir but you want to crush his bloody throat between your palms because ’one more round angel, i swear it.’ it was one more round thirty minutes ago / an hour ago / an hour and a half ago & you’re only a girl so you’ve decided you’ve suffered enough. you have your coat on your shoulders & mary janes grace your feet & you’re about to leave but your waist feels warm & there’s a weight on your neck—‘m’sorry bunny, i’m all done now, yeah ?’

OLIVER AIKU ! — sex & a daydream

last week he left scars on your back / this week he left scars on your neck / next week he’ll leave scars on your heart. you hate aiku & his smart mouth but you love the way it swells & blossoms with peach smeared lip stick when you bite his lip & kiss him silly. aiku is fox teeth ripping through peach flesh—he tastes like brown sugar & warm honey in a wheat field but you can smell carolina herrera & you know it’s not yours. your heart bleeds up your throat & you should push him away but his hand’s in your hair & his palms grip your knees. you’ve got all the time in the world—you might as well kiss him now & curse him later.

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izvmimi · 5 months ago

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cw: fluff. isekai au. selfship-coded. female pronouns.

In all your focus on becoming strong enough to protect yourself and not be a burden to others, it hadn’t occurred to you that as a Demon Slayer, you’d be receiving a paycheck.

A fat one at that.

You’re not exactly sure what to do with it. The envelope had shown up, slipped below the door of your lodgings at the Ubuyashiki mansion with your name on it, and while you’re not completely sure what the conversion rate + inflation would be, the sheer size of the stack was enough to make you quite confident that it was a lot of money. The issue is, you have very little use for money as you receive meals and board by virtue of Kagaya’s kindness, and the things you would buy if you could don’t particularly exist in this timeline.

As you sit on your futon and think again about what it would mean to save and how banking would work in this timeline, and if it’s even worth it given your particular circumstances, a sudden flash of Tanjiro’s smile comes to mind, and you immediately know what to do.

You should buy him a gift. After all, you wouldn’t have gotten through your first mission if not for Tanjiro, you consider, your face warming as you consider what things you’ve seen him receive that delighted him the most. Then you consider that perhaps a gift is too presumptuous, and you see him happy when he has a nice meal, or perhaps you could get something nice for both him and Nezuko because that wouldn’t look too strange, plus he’s happy when she’s happy, or perhaps you could-

Your thought spiral is interrupted by the sound of a knock on your door. Two gentle raps, and then you hear his voice.

Think of an angel and he will appear.

“___, are you busy today?”

When you ignore your slightly quickened heartbeat to let him in, he looks just like the picture in your mind’s eye, sweet, practically glowing with warmth, save for the fact that you notice his hair is slightly damp and his skin dewy as if he’s just bathed. He’s wearing his Demon Slayer uniform but with his regular green and black checked haori over top and his sword is at his side as though he plans to travel. He smells good, and you hope you smell at least decent to him, too.

You shake your head no.

“Are you planning on going somewhere? Did you get a new mission?” you ask.

“No, I wanted to know…” he pauses for a moment, then scratches the back of his neck, looking up at the ceiling, “if you wanted perhaps to go out to town with me. I was hoping to congratulate you for your first mission.”

You blink twice. He really is always one step ahead of you, you realize.

Tanjiro lets his hand fall to the side and nods at you, now with a steadier expression. “You did a really great job.”

To this, you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“You mean by staying alive while you cleaned up?” you ask. Tanjiro decides to indulge in your humor, insisting, “It wasn’t all me.” he insists.

Perhaps that much is true. Tanjiro is a good friend and mentor so it’s not odd that he would extend this kindness first. It’s also an opportunity it would be best to seize, treating him to udon or dango, and offering him some gratitude as well.

Your mind may shift from time to time to the time he used his own mouth to suck turbulent air from your unnatural breathing technique out of your own lungs, but he is simply a friend.

And friends can hang out.

—

“It’s a beautiful fit,” the shop owner says as you slip on a peach pink jacket with colorful embroidered petals and blossoms, the last of the four you’ve tried on to Tanjiro’s surprising patience, and glance at yourself in the mirror.

Something about this entire scene feels wrong but also right to you. For one, you’re not the one who suggested this particular shop - rather it was Tanjiro who insisted you consider window shopping with him, under the guise of finding something for Nezuko, but soon you’d realized that he hadn’t exactly picked anything out, content to watch you leaf through hung designs and listen to the shopkeeper’s promise of superior quality compared to the other stores in the district. You consider that whatever would look good on you would look good on Nezuko and with each trying on of a jacket, you offer pros and cons.

This one is a bit airy and light, very comfortable for summer time.

I think this one might clash with her hair color.

The texture’s too thick here, I’m not sure I like this one as much but it’s very high quality, I can tell.

This last one however is simply perfect in feel and design, and you feel somewhat bad when you turn to Tanjiro and sheepishly say,

“This one is super pretty. I know we’re shopping for Nezuko but I think I might buy this one for myself.” Tanjiro smiles as he rises from the chair in the corner. He’s sat politely for the past few minutes saying very little except nodding appreciatively.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he states as casually as if he were describing the weather, then turns to the older lady running the shop, the same lady who had spent a few minutes glancing between him and you as well, and you’d pretended not to notice.

“How much?” Tanjiro asks.

Surprised, you wonder if he hadn’t heard you.

The seamstress names her price and Tanjiro is quick to give money, before you finally hold in your need to be polite and nudge him.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. He’s unfazed as he hands money over, then smiles at you.

“Buying you a gift.”

“You don’t have to…” you start, but trail off as the woman receiving the money shoots you a dirty look that has you fall silent.

“You’re right, I don’t have to. But I would like to,” he adds.

You leave the shop promptly with a parcel in your hand and the seamstress’ eyes on your back.

—

Perhaps you do look like a couple, even if that’s the furthest thing from the truth. Tanjiro won’t let you treat him to any of the food, insisting you save your money instead through bites of skewered meat and noodles, and you finally find out which bakery supplies the Castella he brings by for you and your friends, as well as the girls at the Butterfly Mansion.

It’s better than anything you’ve tasted in your time, even if you practically choke on a roll when the baker tells you Tanjiro is lucky to be in the company of a pretty girl.

In your own time, you’ve been called pretty before, but this description today strikes at the very pit of your stomach, filling it with butterflies. Does Tanjiro know that you’re pretty? Does he agree? You ponder this for a few moments, then you’re immediately embarrassed to be thinking something so childish.

Whether you’re pretty or not is moot. To him, you’re a younger sister to whom he buys gifts and food. Perhaps more pathetic since you are not related, since you have no one else, since you’re trapped here.

Tanjiro doesn’t answer the question you’ve posed in your head out loud, but he grins.

“I’m quite lucky indeed.”

—

As you walk side by side at the close of the evening, Tanjiro enthuses you in your progress, and you talk about all and nothing. There are red bean paste buns in your hand that you chew on idly between thoughts.

You’re not sure how the day went by so quickly, not while you were parallel processing, doing mental math to figure out what he thinks of you - as friend, as someone to dote on like a child, as someone who he could potentially…

No, that cannot possibly be it.

“Did you have fun today?” he asks. His cheeks are a warm pink and he’s looking straight ahead rather than at you, but his shoulders are relaxed and he bites and chews as he waits for your answer.

“Of course, I did,” you tell him. “This is…,” you pause, then continue, “probably the first time I’ve been anywhere nice, just for fun, since I got to this place.” Admitting it feels strange, but it’s true. Your life has now been limited to the mansion and towns you don’t know. Duty-driven, despair-driven, danger-driven.

Tanjiro looks at you for a moment, and for just a moment his look is wistful.

“Are you happy here?” he asks. Your mouth opens then closes, and then he quickly catches himself in a nervous laugh.

“Probably a stupid question, given none of your family is here, and you don’t have any of your technology and it’s not even your country and-”

You squeeze his hand for a moment.

“I’m happy now,” you offer him, then let go quickly. “Thank you for spending time with me.”

His mouth opens for a moment, and you wonder if you overstepped but he beams, and you wonder what you’d do without this small friendship.

“We should go back,” you quickly fill in before he can say something else and you can regret touching him. You’re the first to take a few steps forward, practically skipping, snacks and new clothing in hand, and you hear him behind you catching up.

“Yeah, let’s get you home safe.”

#tanjiro x reader #tanjiro kamado x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer fluff #daydreams: kny #mimi's notes #kny fluff #tanjimimi

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boohorns1136439 · 24 days ago

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Learning to belong ~ poly!MHA x fem!Reader (06)

And we are back for another chapter !

Warning: cursing (maybe)

tags: aged-up characters ; Pack! Izuku Midoriya X Bakugo Katsuki X Shoto Todoroki X Kirishima Eijirou ; Omega!Izuku Midoriya ; Omega!Bakugo Katsuki ; Omega!Shoto Todoroki ; Omega!Kirishima Eijirou ; technically Beta!Reader ; afab!Reader ; modern Au ; post-UA ; Reader has a quirk ; non hero!Reader ; eventually smut ; bisexual!Reader

05 <- 06 -> 07

Masterlist

Taglist

Todoroki’s heat had finally passed after three long days. He’d spent them either with Kirishima buried deep inside him or wrapped in his muscular arms, their bodies entwined in moments of quiet warmth. It had been all too easy to lose himself in the haze of desire, letting the weight of everything else fade away in a blur of passion and closeness. But now, as the intense flush of heat left his system, his mind was painfully clear.

Embarrassment hit him hard. What was I thinking? He asked himself repeatedly, and almost felt lightheaded as he recalled the desperation—the way he’d thrown himself at you like some lovesick teenager in his first heat. It was reckless and stupid. Worse yet, he’d let himself imagine all sorts of salacious fantasies involving you, Kirishima, and himself throughout his heat. It was utterly inappropriate. The clarity felt almost unbearable as shame surged through him, dense and stifling. If it were just about embarrassing himself, he could eventually deal with it. But the memories of that day went beyond the dizzy haze of horniness, beyond the scent of peaches and yours warm touch against his skin. He also remembered Kirishima’s raw rage and the deep red of your blood covering your face and the hospital floor. Shame gnawed at him from within, leaving in its wake buds of guilt, which blossomed as images of you walking around with a crooked nose and split lips flooded his mind.

Thankfully, it had been Kirishima who picked him up from the hospital that day. The red-haired hero had been too considerate to press him on what had happened; his only priority was taking care of him. Yet, as Todoroki had laid beside Kirishima on the third and final night of his heat, he knew that by morning, he’d have to face the rest of the pack. And neither Katsuki nor Izuku would spare him the questions he dreaded.

Morning came too soon. By the time Todoroki left his room, Kirishima was already gone and it was still early, he knew no one had left for work yet. He rushed to the bathroom to shower, hoping the hot water might somehow calm his nerves or at least give him a moment to gather his thoughts. For the first time in his life, he almost wished his heat had lasted longer—anything to delay the inevitable, awkward conversation but no amount of scalding water could cleanse the mess of emotions swirling inside him. After a dozen of minutes, he resigned himself, finished his shower and got ready for the day.

The moment he emerged from the steamy bathroom, Izuku was waiting, worry pooling in his green eyes and his rough, scarred hand instinctively lifted to cup Todoroki’s face. His touch was warm and steady, grounding him and quieting the chaos within him. Despite the awkwardness of this whole situation, seeing Izuku made his heart flutter, and he smiled softly in his mate’s arms.

“Shoto,” Izuku murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I wanted to be there, but I was tied up at the agency and..." He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a fast ramble, "Just... if you need anything, I’m here for you. We’re all here for you. I already called your agency and told them you’ll need a few more days off. Kirishima told us a little about what happened, and I swear, we’ll track down that doctor. We’ll make sure—”

“He doesn’t need you babbling his damn ears, Deku.” Katsuki’s voice cut through Izuku’s rambling. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his gaze locked on Todoroki—not unkind, but piercing.. “He gets it. He’s not helpless, you know.”

Izuku shot Katsuki a small frown but remained unfazed by his blunt interruption. Beneath the sharp words, Todoroki could sense Katsuki’s genuine concern. The familiar edge in Katsuki’s tone was oddly comforting, and he knew that Katsuki’s refusal to coddle him was just his way of showing respect and consideration.

As they moved to the dining table, where Kirishima was already eating breakfast, Todoroki took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and took his seat around the table. Izuku quickly joined him, sitting beside him and reaching over to place a comforting hand on his knee. Todoroki felt a rush of gratitude for the quiet support, and even Katsuki, despite his sharp gaze, gave him space to speak without pushing him.

“So... you were the one who threw yourself at her?” Izuku’s voice was hesitant, his doe eyes blinked and his brows furrowed in confusion as he tried to process Todoroki’s recounting of the events.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Katsuki scoffed in disbelief.

Todoroki’s face flushed deeply with embarrassment, his cheeks burning so much that he thought he might actually burst into flames. This was a lot more mortifying than he’d imagined. Izuku had started off so supportive, leaning in to comfort him, but as Todoroki went on and explained the situation, he watched Izuku’s expression shift from understanding to confusion, and finally to what felt like... judgment. Slowly, Izuku had began to scoot away from him, casting side glances full of disapproval and making it impossible for Todoroki to meet his eyes. Katsuki was more disappointment than anything else. Unbelievable, he muttered to himself. To him, this was beyond stupid—something a too-hormonal high schooler might do and definitely something Todoroki should’ve known better. But it was Kirishima’s silence that unnerved Todoroki the most. The red haired kept his gaze down, uncharacteristically quiet, before abruptly standing up and storming toward the door.

“I need to go apologize!” Kirishima’s voice was laced with urgency, tinged with panic, but Bakugo grabbed his arm and halted him.

“You can’t go back to that hospital, Eijirou,” Katsuki said firmly, tightening his grip. “What are you gonna do, knock on the door and ask for the doctor you beat up? You’ll only make things worse.”

“Kacchan’s right. She’s probably scared right now, and she’ll run the other way if she sees you again,” Izuku added, stepping in front of Kirishima and blocking his ways like a barricade, while exchanging a look of silent agreement with Bakugo.

“But I can’t just stay here! I hurt her—badly. She even tried to explain, but I wouldn’t listen,” Kirishima’s voice grew agitated. The vivid recollection of your tear-filled eyes and bloodied lips coiled within him, guilt tightening its grip on his chest. What kind of man hits an innocent woman? he thought, fists clenched as he struggled to free himself from his mates' hold.

“I’ll go,” Todoroki interjected suddenly. His words startled the others and they turned to him, puzzled. “It was my fault. I should apologize to her.” His voice was calm but resolute, slicing through the tension in the room and carrying a steadiness, calmness, that sought to soothe Kirishima’s agitation and remorse. “Izuku’s right; you can’t go there directly, Eijirou. I’ll go and apologize on behalf of both of us.”

"But I have to do it myself! I was the one who hit her. I should at least cover her medical bill!" Kirishima protested, spurred by a faint voice in the back of his mind reminding him how unmanly—and even less heroic—his actions had been.

“I’ll tell her you want to apologize in person too. If she’s okay with it, I’ll give her your number so she can reach out to you,” Todoroki assured him gently. It pained him to see Kirishima like this, especially knowing it was his fault. All he ever wanted was to see him smiling, radiant and untroubled, and judging by the looks on his other mates’ faces, it was clear they all shared the same feeling.

Kirishima’s expression wavered, torn between making a run to the hospital or listening to his mates, but Katsuki ended his internal debate with a firm arm slung around Kirishima’s shoulders, steering him toward the door.

“Come on, shitty head, we’re gonna be late. It’s Shoto’s mess, he’ll handle it,” Bakugo said, his voice losing its usual edge, and softened just enough to offer some reassurance to Kirishima.

Izuku lingered behind, casting Todoroki a final glance filled with quiet suspicion. Todoroki could almost see the gears of his mind turning, overthinking as always, but then Katsuki barked Izuku’s name from the doorway, urging him to hurry up. With a sigh, Izuku followed the red eyes pair and they all left for work, leaving Todoroki behind in their appartement.

Todoroki paced in circles around his apartment, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He kept telling himself that he needed to apologize, but every time he neared the door, a wave of nerves yanked him back, making him turn and start another lap around his living room. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsteady, so... nervous as the weight inside him grew heavier, sinking like an anchor. He’d never been one to feel so unsettled—he was usually straightforward, never having trouble apologizing when it was needed. If he made a mistake, he fixed it; he owned up. But this felt different. Today, shame, guilt, and apprehension mingled within him in a discomfort he didn’t fully understand.

“Okay, it’s just... an apology. You’ve done this before,” he muttered under his breath, trying to summon his usual calm. He had told his mates so confidently that he would do it, but look at him now. “Just go in there, say you’re sorry. It’s not complicated.” Yet the words didn’t settle him. Instead, they only seemed to make him more anxious. Why was facing you so daunting suddenly? He couldn’t explain it—he didn’t understand it.

After what felt like ages, he forced himself to grab his keys and head out the door, before he could talk himself out of it again. But the nerves only grew worse when he settled into his car and sat behind the wheel. The flashes of three days ago replayed in his mind, flashes of him almost humping the backseat. They made him wince as he gripped the steering wheel tighter and started the car.

The hospital wasn’t so far away from his apartment, a short 30-minutes drive, but he had to will himself to stay focused on the road. When he paused at a red light, he found himself wondering if your scent would be as intoxicating and bewitching as he remembered it to be and the thought made him groan as he banged his head on the steering wheel, mumbling to himself, Focus, Shoto.

As he drove past a flower shop, a quiet voice in his mind suggested he bring you something. He considered it for a moment, pondering on how appropriate it would be to bring flowers to someone he didn’t know, especially someone who had been beat up because of him. Yeah, no, even he could tell it would be weird. But somehow, he found himself making a U-turn, parking his car in front of the flower shop, and stepping inside.

The floral scent enveloped him immediately—a soft, sweet fragrance that seemed to soothe the edges of his nerves. Before him laid a sea of vibrant and cool blooms stretched out in rows: roses blushed in shades of crimson and coral, delicate peonies, soft violets, cheerful tulips, and vivid anemones. The shop was beautiful, but he knew he had to leave fast when he realized he was searching for flowers that would complement the color of your eyes. He almost laughed at himself. Ridiculous, he mused, but there he was, his feet planted firmly on the ground, and a minute later, he was holding a bouquet of dahlias. With the flowers in hand, he made his way to the counter, quickly paid, and rushed back to his car, feeling the steady thrum of nervousness in his chest.

Finally, we got to see Izuku and Katsuki in this fic. It took us 6 chapters but we made it through!!

I hated writing this chapter, omg, it took me almost a whole week. You guys have no idea how many versions of this chapter exist 😭. The length wasn’t the issue—I tried to make it a bit longer than usual (not by much, though; I’m usually around 1.5k words, but today I hit 1.9k). BUT omg, nothing really happened here. I think it was just a boring chapter (at least to write) 💀.

I’ve always referred to the characters as Todoroki, Kirishima, Izuku, and Katsuki in my head. But it’s kind of weird how half of them go by their first name and the other half by their surname in the narration, right? It’s also a bit confusing when I use both in the same chapter, so I’ve decided to stick with Izuku, Katsuki, Kirishima, and Todoroki for the narrator. The reader will use their first names once she meets them properly.

As always, criticisms are welcome.

Big thank you to @cafekitsune who made the beautiful dividers

05 <- 06 -> 07

My apologies if I forgot anyone in the taglist

Taglist: @too-much-gacha ; @electronicexpertshark ; @poopopp ; @cjdjfhfhfufjfdj ; @kimi01985 ; @icycoldbeanieweanies ; @ghostlyworld ; @marsbars09 ; @queenondeezmatatas ; @imnotherw ; @bedheadloser ; @chrisbiniesluvrr ; @fsocs-blog ; @jadeddangel ; @qardasngan ; @omgeyeless-blog ; @goldenglow149 ; @andysteve1311 ; @pinkmelodies ; @hopefulb1ue ; @redkarmakai ; @zukusluvr ; @navezepol221 ; @candiiee ; @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaq ; @mniya ; @randomhuman112 ; @mintvender ; @deadendgrim ; @captainswanarcher ; @figbaby ; @midnight-nightmare ; @bluepatrolbear ; @talilosha ; @bawlangya ; @optimisticprime3 ; @purplescorpi0 ; @astrolovedy ; @desiree-lee ; @okaysxx ; @the-faceless-bride ; @thelameone101 ; @gethexxed ; @lowkeyhottho ; @bvirrious ; @heespretty ;

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fairsweetlonging · 2 months ago

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i'm so weak for original luo binghe/shen yuan where he succeeds in stealing bingmei's shizun to have for himself.

maybe they cross over in the dream realm (like in the punishment protocol), and he sees this other version of shen qingqiu, standing beside the koi pond of qing jing peak, looking calm and healthy and alive, and different, just slightly different. and when this shen qingqiu looks up and sees binghe, he doesn't sneer and attack like in nightmares, nor does he try to run like in the punishment dreams—he smiles. he smiles at binghe, and calls his name. he looks... happy, to see him.

confused, yet intrigued, bingge indulges a little by humoring this weird dream version of his old shizun, meeting him by the pond, and while it's the same face it's not the sharpness of an ice cold beauty, it's warm and soft and tender, even more so when shen qingqiu plucks a peach blossom from the tree and tucks it in binghe's hair, when he leans over and presses the pretty curve of his mouth against binghe's cheek, when he calls him "binghe" instead of "beast".

at first bingge thinks this must be a dream; he's a mere spectator, saying little to nothing at all, watching quietly as shen qingqiu chatters about some beast that liu qingge brought him (bingge was a bit surprised to hear that name, he died so long ago), sitting down with him, not moving when shen qingqiu leans against his side.

then shen qingqiu disappears, and bingge is alone again. he isn't sad, or even angry, he's just confused. he usually has full control over his dream realms, what just happened? but then again, he usually enjoys tormenting shen qingqiu, so he hadn't interrupted the man before, and after he realized it was different, he never bothered changing it. this might be just a fluke?

it happens again. shen qingqiu is a little more quiet, this time, a little tired. they sit together at the pond's edge again, shen qingqiu leaning against him, and this time bingge takes him into his arms, just to see what happens. shen qingqiu reacts positively, snuggling closer, but he shouldn't. this has never been something bingge wanted, nothing he ever even thought about, it makes no sense.

then somewhere somehow he realizes that through xin mo he's transporting a different shizun from a different world to his dream realm, and when he realizes that somewhere out there there is a shizun that smiles and laughs and cares for him, loves him.... he wants it.

so he does what he always does when he sees something he wants: he takes it.

next time they're together in the dream realm, he's prepared. he silently hooks his claws into shen qingqiu's (ridiculously unprotected) consciousness, using xin mo's power to track him down and create a rift. he lands in a cosy little bedroom, with a large bed and trinkets on the shelves and a ton of books. shen qingqiu is still asleep, curled around a large pillow but alone. whoever he thinks bingge is in his dreams isn't here. and well, if they're not here to protect him, clearly they don't care enough to keep him (bingge would never leave him out in the open like this, his sweet, naive, stupid shizun, laid out like a treat for anyone to snatch up). he makes sure shen qingqiu is deep asleep before he lifts him up and takes him back, closing the rift behind him.

#i like it both ways of bingge trying to be like bingmei to manipulate shizun into loving him #but also bingge being full bingge and thinking he can lock shen qingqiu up and demand love from him #either way he keeps shen qingqiu to a room and spoils him rotten #bingge definitely makes him think its a mistake. xin mo did it! not him!#and shen yuan loves bingge and is still in his ''who would want this old man'' mindset so he believes him #and for a couple days bingge spoils him rotten with everything he can think of. all the books and clothes and jewelry and monsters #bingge learns that sqq likes massages and having his hair brushed and dives IN #but then it starts to get more and more possessive #and bingge gets angry whenever sqq mentions he wants to go home or find ways to go home #yeah i like that<3 #theres a lot of fics where binghe finds his own modern shen yuan but not enough where he goes stealing #both are sooooo delish tho #svsss #luo binghe #bingqiu #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #original luo binghe #luo bingge #scum villian’s self saving system #svsss au

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i-will-cry-you-a-river · 9 months ago

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Based on this post

The Proud Immortal Demon Way was a clusterfuck. Master Airplane was a fucking hack of an author who should never ever be allowed to write papapa. The characters were complete idiots, so blind and stupid and Shen Yuan suspected the close proximity to the abundance of aphrodisiacs was to be blamed for the lack of intelligence points. The plot was nonexistent, the fantastic flora and fauna was forgotten for more pointless papapa. However!

However…

Shen Yuan had to admit. The fanarts and fan merch did not do justice to the beauties residing in the universe.

That hack of an author could not write porn. But his characters really were peerless beauties. One would think if the beauty standards were this high that everyone was a peerless beauty, they should be considered as normal.

One would think it wrong. If he could, he would take back his comments on this specific topic; their beauties really were peerless.

One, like the blooming peach blossom, charming and deceptively sweet; another like the oak tree, tall and reliable; and another like the prettiest blue iris, knowledgeable and lovely. It was a disaster.

Back then it was only the blackened protagonist and his life sized body pillow that made him go through a sexuality crisis. As a shut-in, the people he met with never really made him feel warm under the collar, so being gay was only a theoretical experience for him, only having crushes on fictional people. Now, on the other hand, it was a completely different experience.

He couldn't even step outside of his bedroom without feeling like an emotional wreck. The minute he does that-

“This discipline made breakfast for Shizun!”

The radiant halo of the protagonist blinded him day after day; his precious white lotus is just the cutest and purest, fluffiest sheep ever. Shen Yuan can see the future Emperor in him, the husband of hundreds of pretty flowers, but he was still just his 17 years old discipline, so filial and full of wonder.

Ah, Binghe, such a good boy for this master…

“This master is thankful. Go along now, your shijie is waiting for you,” Shen Qingqiu waved his fan. His little white lotus pouted as if Shen Qingqiu would believe he wasn't excited to spend time with his future wife. He encouraged the two of them to spend time together, and he was certain that the sweet and touching young love bloomed under his careful watch. He was like a fairy godmother…

[-10 protagonist satisfaction points]

Shen Qingqiu sighed behind his open fan. Luo Binghe started to become a homebody, which, as a past homebody himself, knew was a slippery slope and even with all the lost points, he had to make sure his white sheep left the bamboo house. Staying home was great, but when you were the future Emperor of the Three Realms, defeater of countless monsters and husband of a triple digits harem, you just had to learn how to be open to new experiences. Sorry, Binghe…

“Yes, Shizun! This discipline will leave now.” Luo Binghe bows, and it takes everything not to touch and pat his fluffy head.

“Good. This master expects excellence from his disciples.”

“Yes, Shizun. This discipline understands and will do everything to exceed Shizun’s expectations.”

Such a filial discipline! Such a sweet white lotus! This one is truly a scum villain to do what he needs to do.

[Host is-]

I know I know! You don't have to remind me![(⁠ب⁠_⁠ب⁠)]

Shen Qingqiu sighed, hiding his shame and regret behind his mask. He really was just a scum villain.

With a conscious decision to not think about the future, he ate his breakfast instead, noting the protagonist’s amazing cooking powers. He would miss this after Luo Binghe gets married and starts to cook for his wives instead.

Maybe the guy he finds for himself will be good at cooking… nothing compared to the protagonist, of course, but nobody can be compared to him. That would be unfair for his potential partner.

However, even though he'd been Shen Qingqiu for three years, he hasn't yet found anybody for himself. He tried to flirt, he tried to see who might be gay other than him - statistically, there should be SOMEONE, right?! -, but no results.

The Sect Leader immediately brother-zoned Shen Qingqiu through his and the original good's past bond, which was quite unfair in Shen Yuan's opinion. Yue Qingyuan was a fine specimen of a man. Strong and reliable, just the kindest man Shen Qingqiu ever met. He was the perfect man, THE husband material. Yet, the original good has been so cold to him, cruelly causing his death, even though they were like brothers. Shen Yuan wouldn't have minded the Sect Leader as his husband; someone loyal and powerful, someone who could protect him from his blackened lotus. So unfair…

His Liu-shidi, the prettiest man alive, was so straight, only the protagonist was straighter than him. Shen Qingqiu was honestly sad for him; all the women in PiDW belonged to the Emperor. He was quite tempted to find a way to punch Airplane Shooting Towards Sky in his face for making Liu Qingge straight. Look. Shen Yuan was a weak, weak man; if Liu Qingge would show the slightest inclination to be at least bi-curious, he would be all over his shidi in a heartbeat. That man, honestly… it was no wonder the author killed him before the plot. Liu Qingge was typically the Second Male Lead, who was the boyfriend of all readers. (He definitely would have been Shen Yuan's fictional boyfriend, that's for sure. Maybe if he would have stayed alive in the novel, Shen Yuan wouldn't have minded the lack of plot that much. Liu Qingge would have definitely made the whole thing a thousand times better just by being alive. Like he did it now. The best times of the week were when his shidi visited him to spar or to cleanse his meridians.)

Shen Qingqiu had high hopes for Mu Qingfang. The doctor was quite queer in the sense of being weird. He hoped he was queer as in gay as well. However, the only time Shen Qingqiu tried to flirt with him, resulted in a two day stay at Cang Qiong mountain under constant supervision. That was a quite humiliating result, if he could say so.

Shen Qingqiu bit back a groan. No matter; that was just the peak lords he kept close contact with. He had the whole universe to find that one (1) gay person who would be happy to spend that depressingly short amount of time with him until he was still alive. He might have only five years to live, before he would become a human stick, but he would NOT die as a virgin disaster gay. He would remain a disaster gay forever, but he would lose his virginity before his death, damnit!

Now, volunteer, where are you?

Here they are

#shen yuan #shen qingqiu #svsss #svsss fanfiction #sy transmigrated after realizing he is gay au #luo binghe #liu qingge #yue qingyuan #mu qingfang #sqq's harem #bingqiu #liushen #mushen #yueshen

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bitterrfruit · 3 months ago

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houndtooth [1]

[masterlist]

Ghost x f!Reader - tags: slow burn, enemies to lovers, abduction, bodyguard, forced cooperation, smut 18+ mdni - cw: below the cut - 2.2k words

you're the pampered wife of a russian warlord. ghost hunts you down and finds a use for you.

Hello loves, a brief intermission from me (quick I promise) - I thought it would be fun to cross-post my Ao3 fic Houndtooth on tumblr. It is still in progress!

Needless to say, this fic comes with some content warnings: implied SA (not by Ghost), drug addiction, waterboarding, and heavy physical violence.

Reader insert goes by her alias, Mia, a name she invented to protect herself in her previous profession.

If I cannot be feared, I must be loved.

There’s something special about you.

Something sickly.

Your body, your lips, your eyes. Bait like dripping entrails in a loose twine net; dragging bloody along the wooded, overgrown path of your life, and luring ravenous carnivores to your trail around every bend.

It’s something you’ve grown accustomed to, expectant of – that lecherous scrutiny, from any man you have ever met, or ever might. Used to the huffing snouts that suck in the vapour of your beguiling skin, tonguing it like they might ever get to take a bite.

Offering mouthfuls of yourself is the only way you have been able to keep them at bay. Appeasing when necessary. Rebuffing only when you can be certain that your extermination will not be the consequence.

Sometimes they gnaw at you anyway. Sometimes their canines sink rapaciously into your soft flesh, popping through your skin like it’s the velvety hide of a peach. They drink the sweet pink syrup until you’re bled dry, careful to spit out the cyanide core once they've finished.

Until that poisonous pit, coated in the stringy viscera that those teeth had missed, was all that was left of you.

So, when your husband found you, dressed as the hound-bait character you played along the redlight strip, you were allured by the promise that he might plant you again. Maybe, with his exorbitant riches and clandestine occupation, he might water you and fertilise your soil, he might let your pit sprout into a sapling. Maybe, your branches might blossom again.

When he expatriated you to Russia, his snow-blown motherland, you imagined yourself a Tsarina; jejunely clinging to his arm like you might fly away with him, carried to an undefiled paradise as though he were your archangel and you his rapture.

That was the last time you loved him.

One step off that jet, the first leap with your exuberant paw; there was no paradise, no utopia waiting for you. Landing hard on icy cement, your husband was quick to stifle your lament. Offered you oxycodone like pebbles of dogfood in the palm of his hand, swearing you an unending supply – his remuneration for your services, whose nature you were not yet privy to.

But those opioids were your wage.

They were your shackles, too.

Even if you managed to outrun your paralysing addiction to them, it didn’t take you long to be tackled and smothered by your intemperate dependence on your husband himself.

On his status, on his money, on his reputation.

Without, you would have been long used and discarded, tossed hollow and floppy like freshly flayed doeskin; exsanguinated by the very men he colludes with, the very creatures that slither into your home, that sit at your table and speak puzzles in their Cyrillic tongues.

The very beasts who your husband endeavours to entertain and indulge with your presence at his side – a glittering trophy, or a ripe fruit, juicy and plump. He holds you in greedy hands and brandishes the shine of your skin, he polishes you with a firm palm on your ass, he boasts his possession of you with a hot tongue on your cheek.

The prize they can never win, that’s what you are. The meal they can never devour. Only his teeth have the privilege of gorging on your supple flesh.

With your English passport long stolen from you, you are left with no option but to be grateful for that fact – that your husband does not whore you out to his compatriots, does not sell your body for some other man to graze on or to pick at, like you used to do yourself.

That is one of the few reprieves he offers you.

Protection.

Maybe, if you had never met him, you would have eventually crawled out of the chasm that your previous life had sunk to. If you had never met him, you might have found a way to break free from your dependence on those poppies. If you had never met him, you might have found worth for yourself beyond the coins hungry men would offer you in exchange for a taste of you.

But any hope you may have had in those days is a distant, futile memory. A bittersweet daydream you sometimes venture to.

Frozen in your sordid reality, you’ve no option but to indulge him.

To oblige him, whatever he wants from you, you play the role he carved out just for you to fill. You massage his neck after a long day. You listen to his broken English as he does his best to explain what had happened at work, in as little detail as possible, in an effort to shield you from the truth of his profession. You swallow his cock when he asks you to. You pretend to let him satiate you all the same, a professional actor you are – you sing those moans for him, when he licks you, when he fucks you, when he pledges to impregnate you.

He doesn’t know you’ve got a copper coil in your womb. You tell him there’s something wrong with his come, he doesn’t believe you. He sends you a doctor, and with his money, you pay them to lie.

That’s the other perquisite, one you can’t belittle.

His money.

His mountains, mountains, mountains of money.

None of it tangible, no real cash, no paper stacks tucked away in places any brave burglars might be able to find it. All of it digital, little numbers, binary code hidden behind so many layers of encryption it’s a wonder it can be counted at all.

But there’s never a need to count it. All you know is that it is unending.

He lets you spend it how you like, and there’s no amount of expenditure that could ever put a dent in his wealth large enough for him to notice.

Still, the prince, he imprisons you in his castle. You can throw invisible money at whatever your bored and inebriated heart might desire, any priceless art, any extortionate car, any lavish designer shoes – and it means nothing. It fills no void. There’s nobody to show it off to.

It appeased you, at first, after your stint of homelessness, then your weeks living in a dim red brothel, until he found you. When he offered you such a nauseating amount of money as payment for your salacious dance, that you felt your knees buckle beneath you at the sight of it. When he took you shopping and bought new lingerie to decorate you with, when he carted you giddy to his private jet.

All too good to be true.

And it was.

Too late now, anyway. This is the hand you’ve been dealt; you play your cards as best you can. Close to your chest. Who knows when you’ll fold.

You lean over the marble vanity, the harsh, downward lighting of the gaudy ensuite carves out the divots and lumps of your face that are typically imperceptible.

You used to think you were beautiful. That’s what everyone told you.

But watching your husband’s cold semen trickle down your décolletage, saturating and staining the invaluable lace and silk chiffon of your rosy babydoll, drying flaky on your skin – you can only see lipstick on a pig. An ugly little creature, destined for the slaughter. Your belly waiting to be made into crackling, your ass into bacon. It won’t be long now.

You sense that you are beginning to overstay your welcome. What had once been pliancy had now turned stiff and sharp. Any sweetness you once felt for the man who swept you off your feet has since coagulated into bitter milk, too lumpy to swallow, so instead, you spit.

The contempt inside your husband has been bubbling, fermenting. You can see it, and feel it, and taste it. He made it known to you especially tonight, fucking you with the brutality of a rabid animal, clutching and clawing, tugging and throwing, biting and beating. Painting you with his come to humiliate you, to degrade you, to remind you what you are, and always will be. He got some of it in your eye.

There’s a bruise on your collarbone. It’s not the first he’s given you. It won’t be the last.

You wipe away the crusting fluid with an opulent towel, dampened with warm water; lush white cotton turning creamy and black as it cleans away the come and mascara. You use it to dab clean your negligee. It’s your favourite one.

Clink.

Your ears perk.

Clash.

Frozen on your feet, your head darts to face the door to the ensuite - heavy and ornate, it sits ajar. Last you checked, your husband was asleep, snoring like a fucking engine. The silence that follows the peculiar noise is what unsettles you most.

Maybe it was him reaching for the pills on his nightstand, or readjusting the eiderdown duvet he sleeps under. But you’d expect a grunt, at least, some huffs of complaint as he was forced to do something for himself for once.

Instead, quiet.

You know that your husband keeps guns around the estate. Both figuratively, in the forms of armed and well-paid sentries that roam the grounds and stand guard by the doors. And, literally. A pistol in the kitchen, a shotgun in his cupboard, an assault rifle under the coffee table.

And, you remember, a Beretta under the sink.

With quivering and cautious fingers, you reach for the brass handle of the drawer.

“Милый?” Sweetie?

You utter it softly, hesitantly, sweetly. He once told you your accent sounds native when you pamper him with pet names. English is your first language, Russian now your second. He doesn’t know how much of it you can understand. More than he believes.

But there is no answer from him. Not a word, nor a groan, nor a snore.

“Все ли в порядке?” Is everything alright?

Your careful fingertips dive into the drawer, momentarily peeking down to find the black metal. A pant of relief jumps from your throat when your fingers find it, that cold handle; you take it in the palm of your hand, it moulds to your grip like it was made for you.

He showed you once how to load it.

You remember.

You clutch the slide with a harsh grip, tugging it back, click-snap.

The safety is off. You’re not that stupid.

“Дорогой?” Sweetheart?

Calls turn to pleas.

You know vaguely the line of work in which your husband is a kingpin. You know it most likely involves bloodshed.

And, so, you guess it involves fucking people over. That it incites vengeance. That it creates martyrs.

Normally, the guards help you sleep, their thudding boots and murmuring chatter keeping the retribution at bay.

Why is it so quiet?

Thud.

Creak.

Now you resent yourself for calling for him. You’ve made your position obvious. You’ve handed yourself on a platter.

Perhaps you can sneak to the hallway.

Or, perhaps you can simply check to see if it’s your husband, skulking around your bedroom and choosing to silently ignore you out of spite.

So on your bare toes, you glide along the glossy tiled floor, pit pat, pit pat. Feline fingers clutch the edge of the door. You gently draw it open, ever so slowly, the golden hinges moaning quietly at their awakening.

You hold your weapon by your side. You keep your finger off the trigger. God knows what you’d do if you shot your husband by accident. You might be better off just turning the gun on yourself, in that case, rather than be left to the dogs. You know what their teeth would do to you.

The bedroom is dark.

The silvery glow of the moon is the only source of light, bar the dim orange now emerging from the open ensuite door. Your kittenish shadow stretches out before you onto the velvety carpeted floor, your shape carved out even through the sheer fabric of your negligée.

“Не двигайся, черт возьми.” Don’t fucking move.

Your breath lodges in your throat, wedged in your trachea like you had swallowed a jagged rock.

Not your husband.

No, that voice is far too deep, too grumbling, too threatening.

So who?

“Кто ты, черт возьми?” Who the fuck are you?

You hiss it, a growl, though only the kind a snarling little chihuahua might spit out when touched by an overbearing hand.

Hidden from the moonlight, the figure prowls through the shadow. Towering, imperious, that silhouette renders you frigid - you swallow as much oxygen as your stiff diaphragm will allow you. Not much.

Four red beads of light stretch in a line where his eyes should be, reminiscent of a hunting spider; high enough off the ground that it might be crawling up the walls, hanging from its silk, ready to ensnare you. No, that’s just how tall the beast is as it stalks you.

The glint of the moon reflects off the glistening barrel of his gun. Gun feels like an understatement. It’s immense, black. Machine more fitting. Pointed at you. Coaxing. Warning. He gives it a shake.

“Брось этот крошечный пистолет, шлюха.” Drop that little gun of yours, slut.

The more he talks, the more you doubt. His accent is weak. Not a Russian.

“Чего ты хочешь, мудак? Деньги?” What do you want, asshole? Money?

He scoffs. Arrogant. Scornful.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ blood money, you evil little bitch.”

English.

Explains the accent.

But, you’re left with more questions. One, what the fuck?

“Drop the gun. Or I might get your blood on that pretty dress.”

You hesitate. He pounces.

“Сейчас!” Now!

#call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost cod #bitterfruit fics #bitten-fruit

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detectivestucks · 10 months ago

Text

Home

18+ content, Minors do NOT interact

Pairing: Yandere Tobi/Obito x F!Reader

Summery: Obito found you paying your respects to his memorial and an obsession with his first love's best friend blossoms. Soon he finds that he will do anything and everything to protect you, his delicate peach.

Warnings: Stalking, Violence, Kidnapping, Fingering, Nipple play, Unprotected Penetration, Virgin Reader, implied threat of suicide.

Word Count: 9.7k

Author's note: Yes, I know the timeline is a bit altered, it was a creative decision. Deal with it. :)

Itachi and Kisame remove their hats as they return to the hideout looking slightly worn out, presumably from battle. They had just finished scoping out the Leaf in search of the nine tails jinchuriki and Itachi’s little brother, Sasuke.

“Did everything go okay?” Pain asked

“Yes, we ran into my former captain.”

“Itachi had it covered but the copy ninja's annoying boyfriend started attacking and then some shinobi we couldn’t see sent shockwaves into the ground that sparked a small tsunami.”

“It was at that point we thought it best to retreat. We know the jinchuriki is still located inside the village. There was no need for further engagement.”

Obito felt his chest constrict. Shockwaves...he knew that jutsu. That was the trademark of Rin’s best friend. That was a jutsu unique to you. But you had left the village a long time ago. When had you come back?

Itachi being the only one among them who knew Tobi’s identity, quickly noticed the shift in Obito’s stance. The rest of the group, completely oblivious to the insignificant comic relief, did not notice as Obito exited the room and hurried towards the village.

Rather than scouring the Leaf hunting for you, he waited at the one spot he knew you’d come, the memorial yard. Sure enough it only took one evening to catch you bringing lilies to your best friend’s grave. Obito cried with you as you shed tears for your friend but then you did something he didn’t expect, you stopped at the memorial stone to pay your respects to him.

“Obito, I wish you knew how much I cared for you. You didn’t deserve what you got. You were too good for this world.” You dragged your fingertips along his name, tears streaming down your cheeks as you remembered the boy you loved as a child.

You…cared for him? He was… too good?

Obito felt a pang in his chest. You were just like her. So kind and sweet. Always seeing the best in people. Even poor retches like him. He wanted to thank you but he didn’t want to scare you. Instead he let curiosity get the better of him and followed you home. He watched you through the window as you did your nighttime routine. Seeing you at peace alone in your home brought him contentment. He snuck up to the window’s sill to catch a closer view as you got into bed and drifted to sleep. It brought him comfort to see you rest and he took that comfort with him as he finally returned to the hideout.

The next day, plans for tracking the other tailed beasts including the three tails had Obito feeling emotional. Itachi caught how stiff ‘Tobi’ stood during the conversation and soon after caught him leaving the hideout to go see you. He found you at the training grounds running drills with Kakashi’s team.

“Y/N-sensei, I wanna learn a new jutsu!”

“Now Naruto, I am under direct orders from Kakashi to work on chakra control drills with you three. A new jutsu will be no good if you don’t have a way to command the chakra to execute it.”

“When will Kakashi-sensei be better?”

“He’ll be better soon Sakura, don’t you worry.”

Obito sat in the trees watching you for a few hours until the jinchuriki kid was done pestering you. He was such a nuisance but you didn’t lose your patience even a little. The same could not be said about his teammates which seemed to only bring you amusement. When you were done you walked over to the memorial stone and gave your gratitude to your fallen comrades before heading home.

You were so much like her. Beautiful and sweet as a peach. The way you cared for and nurtured others, it took a hold of his heart. He could watch you all day and never get bored. You were his light in the darkness of the Akatsuki.

The next day he went out with his partner on their mission. While Deidara requested alone time so he didn’t need to suffer Tobi’s presence, Obito used kamui to visit you. Carefully watching from a distance till you fall asleep. Just like he did every time he visits you. Following the same ritual as before. He’d enter your home and play with your hair, stroking it as you slept. Some nights he would lay with you and breathe in your scent while you were none the wiser. It was in these moments that he knew he needed to protect you. His delicate little peach. No one in this cruel world would bruise you. He would make sure of it.

One evening while you were paying your respects to your friends, a jonin he didn’t recognize approached you. The man brushed your hip and backside and you pulled away as he asked you on a date. The audacity of the man to think of romance while you were mourning your lost comrades. You had told him no and he left but something told Obito it wasn’t over. This was clearly a man who needed to be stopped.

The next day the man came to you again and held your hips while he asked to take you on a date, a little more forcefully than before. You had declined his request once more and politely pushed his hands off of you before turning to walk away. He had called out to you but before he could say anything further Obito had dragged the man into his void. The shinobi looked around bewildered. Obito growled at him from behind his mask.

“The lady said no”

“Where the fuck am I?!”

“A place no one can hear you scream so don’t give me a reason to bring you back here.” If the man could see Obito’s face behind the mask he surely would’ve wet himself. But instead in a facade of bravery he hurls insults at Obito

“A fuckin coward relies on tricks. Be a man and show me your face.”

“My face is none of your business, as for tricks, I have none, just superior prowess.” Obito makes his voice thick and deep, tapping into Madara’s tone of intimidation. “If I see you bother her again it will be the last time you speak.”

His facade is broken and his throat bobs as he swallows his pride. “Fine, no pussy’s worth a fuckin death threat.”

“Good, now that we understand each other, you may go.”

Obito materializes the man back in the village while he teleports himself over to the tree outside of your home. He spots you walk up to your door and head inside. He yearned to be the one greeting you, welcoming you home, rather than outside in a tree. You should come home to his loving face, not a room of darkness.

Instead he waits till you are sound asleep to touch your hips where the other man had touched them. He replaced the man’s predatory touch with his loving one. You rolled into him, your subconscious nestling into his presence. He held you, almost falling asleep from your intoxicating pheromones as they lull him into a state of bliss. When he was sure you wouldn’t wake, he slipped his body out of your bed, replacing himself with a pillow as you searched for his comfort.

His thumb brushed over your forehead before he disappeared from your home. His beautiful peach ripe for the picking.

While masquerading around as Tobi, Obito couldn’t help but feel lonely and isolated. His thoughts of you began to consume his mind. Every opportunity he had to visit you, he took. He had disappeared so often that the Akatsuki almost forgot about him, not that they were complaining about taking a break from his annoying persona.

He noticed that you and Kakashi had become close. You were always assisting with his young team and visiting the cemetery together. Obito didn’t like this one bit. Kakashi would pluck his sweet peach from him. But he had to remind himself that Kakashi did keep you safe when you joined his team on missions. He took care of you when Obito could not. Though that didn’t dull his need to claim you, take you as his own. The feeling was intensifying, swelling every day.

He found himself hunting down every man who so much as looked at you. Kakashi was the only man who’s affection he let slide…even though he was the one who made him the most angry. Maybe it was his sentiment for his old friend. Maybe it was his fear of Kakashi’s skill. Either way, he let him be, not wanting to catch the copy ninja’s attention.

The remaining miscreants were hunted without mercy. Sometimes he couldn’t help the bloodshed that was inevitable. He was unable to restrain himself, when it came to his peach, there was no limit to what he would do to keep you safe. If they showed no remorse for their predatory stares and their greedy thoughts he would gladly hear them scream before stopping their hearts. A trail of blood secretly followed you but it was all in your delicate name.

He kept tabs on everything you did, especially when it came to your missions. He had to ensure your safety. Recently learning some of the details of one of your upcoming missions, he knew he’d have to keep special watch over you. It was a dangerous mission with Hidden Mist shinobi that had been under consideration to join his troupe. He couldn’t risk history repeating itself and no longer cared if Deidara or Itachi figured out what he had been doing with his spare time. Even though you would be joining Kakashi on this mission, it wasn’t a guarantee of your safety. He already knew that too well and he must protect his sweet peach at all costs.

He stalks your group as you travel through the woods, earning him a side eye from Kakashi who knew something was up but couldn’t quite pin his finger on who the lurker was. You asked him what was wrong but Kakashi refused to say anything, not wanting to tip off a watching Obito that he knew they were being followed.

Nice try Bakashi, but I already know your tricks.

Soon you came across your target. As predicted they put up quite a fight. You and Kakashi made a remarkable team fending them off. Your mission was to capture them for intel but the confrontation with the targets escalated to the point that elimination was deemed necessary. Obito was impressed by your strength. You took on three of them at once, knocking them down with your earth style shockwave. You manipulated the magnitude, where the earth would fracture, where it would cave in, and even where it would snap up. It was an impressive jutsu but it was not foolproof. He watched you closely, ready to intervene if it ever became too much. He watched you so closely that he hadn’t noticed the back up Mist shinobi that had been summoned. Kunai thrown from the trees flew at you as you went to weave more hand signs. You lept out of the way but still one caught your leg and the other grazed your thigh.

No.

Before Obito could even breathe he was in front of you, mangekyou in place, murder in the front of his mind. His stance was so protective, you didn’t doubt whose side this unknown stranger was on for a second. You simply pulled the kunai out of your leg allowing the blood to flow freely before going on the defensive.

When a second wave of backup came, you did what you could but you were overwhelmed. Kakashi and his team could not keep up with the stampede of attacks. The fear for your safety caused Obito to snap. He went on a homicidal rampage, annihilating the entire group with gruesome bloodshed, bringing both yourself and Kakashi to a halt.

In your stunned transe you didn’t catch the shinobi who snuck past your blind spot and stabbed you in the chest. When Obito turns to slice down the man he sees you clutching the kunai. In the span of a single heartbeat he dropped his weapon and pulled you into his void, bending over you in a state of panic.

He stole your body from the battlefield so quickly Kakashi almost missed it. Kakashi finished off the last of the Mist shinobi, making certain that the life of the man who attacked you would drain by his hand. He stood up in alarm asking Naruto and Sakura if they saw who the man was that took you away. Neither of them did and Kakashi instructed them to search the nearby area for you.

Obito’s hands shook over you as he went to remove the knife, holding pressure where it once had pricked you like a pincushion. You had no idea where you were or who this man was. You had just watched him slaughter nearly twenty men to protect you immediately before his abduction. You would have been terrified if you didn’t have a more pressing issue to tend to.

“My peach, how do I help?”

In your state of confusion you thought you misheard him. He must have you confused with someone else. You feel your consciousness begin to slip as you speak.

“Do you know…medical…ninjutsu?” it came out as a whisper.

“No” he whined

“Need…Sakura.”

“I can do that.”

Obito goes back to the scene of his crime. Bodies strewn all over the field. He felt accomplished to see them sprawled out and covered in red.

“Hey you, girl”

“Me?! What did you do with Y/N-sensei?!”

“She’s safe. You know medical ninjutsu?”

“Yeah”

“Meet me over there.”

She looked at the masked Obito with severe skepticism. He nodded at her and walked away, swirling out of sight as he did, stepping into his void to retrieve you.

He lifted you up, supporting under your shoulders and knees. He held you close, his entire body tense with worry but somehow gentle. He felt so warm as you were growing cold from your wounds. Despite the horrors you saw him commit, you laid your head against his chest as he carried you back outside to a sheltered spot behind a few trees and a bush where Sakura was waiting.

He laid you down and instructed Sakura to do what she had to while he eagerly watched. Sakura gave him sideways glances many times when she felt she could afford to risk the distraction. Who was this terrifying murderer? Why did he have a fixation with you? After twenty minutes Sakura lowered her hands, panting from the amount of chakra used.

“There.”

“She’s healed?”

She nods, “She’s healed. The major damage at least.”

“Thank you”

He scoops up your body and retreats back to his void as Skaura shouts at your disappearing figures.

You were out cold, resting for nearly a day when you woke up in a makeshift bed in a dark endless room filled with large gray blocks.

“Where am I?”

You scan your surroundings but it hurts too much to move. The mysterious masked man suddenly appears in the room causing you to jump, quickly followed by you grabbing your chest in pain.

“Careful Peach” he says as he rushes to your side, falling on his knees beside you.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” you inquire with eyes screwed shut in pain.

“Because you are my delicate Peach. I need to take care of you.”

“I’ve been taking care of myself just fine, thank you.” you say through clenched teeth, feeling the pain radiate over your entire chest. This man was clearly insane. Despite how he took care of you, you knew you were in danger.

“I wouldn’t call your current condition ‘just fine’, Peach.”

He feels your forehead, looking for signs of fever.

“Just who are you anyways?”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay.”

“It does matter. And I need to go back to my team, let them know I’m okay.”

“The girl knows you’re okay, she’ll tell them.”

“Yes, but I need to get back to them. I need to-”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Disbelief filled you, yet the earlier bells of warning were officially verified.

He looks at you and shakes his head. “No.”

You look at him stunned, fear swelling. You look around the dark empty space starting to wonder where the exit was.

“You’re not going back. They can’t protect you. I know that now. You will stay with me. Here.”

Stunned into silence you look up at him. You open your mouth and close it a few times before you finally say to him, “You can’t keep me here.”

“I can and I will.”

Obito watches as terrified anger blossoms on your face. You stand up in spite of the pain, searching for an exit. Glancing over your shoulder at him as you move further and further away, frantically peering behind every gray pillar and block.

“You won’t be able to leave on your own.” he calls to you. “Only I can teleport you in and out of here.”

“And where is here?” You say, walking back towards him with a guise of bravery.

“My void”

Your jaw fell open. “Your what?”

“My void. Only I have access to it using Kamui.”

Comprehension made your eyes flood with tears. You were trapped. A madman who just slaughtered a fleet of shinobi to save you has trapped you in another dimension to ‘keep you safe.’ You looked up at him pleading, “I want to go home. Let me go home.”

“I can’t…it’s not safe.”

“But my home, my friends, the village…”

“They will be fine without you.”

Starting to realize he was serious, you begin to plead. “At least let me tell them where I have gone. That way they don’t come looking for me. Let me say goodbye.”

“Peach, I can’t risk you running away. I can’t risk you getting hurt.” He reaches out to pet your hair and you shy away from his touch.

The tears leak down your cheeks, feeling helpless. You walk away and sit down, turning away from the masked man, hugging your knees to your chest and resting your head against the tops of your knee caps.

Obito, feeling pain at seeing you so sad walks up and puts a hand on your shoulder, “It has to be this way Peach, I’m sorry.”

He leaves you alone to sulk. You would be fine. You would grow to accept things the way that they are. You would grow to love him in spite of how it started. It was all going to be okay.

When he left in a swirl you wept. You allowed your mind to panic and wander to all the terrifying possibilities. What was he going to do with you? Why was he obsessed with you? How were you going to get out of this?

The more your mind reeled the quieter your tears became. Eventually you collapsed back onto the ashen floor. As you lay there, staring up at the black ceiling of his void, exhaustion and sadness ebb you to sleep.

You wake up the next day to find a large chunk of your stuff from your home was suddenly in the void. He had made the effort to move your belongings to you, even bringing many of your most cherished items such as your favorite clothes, your favorite mug, the blanket you sleep with every night, and your photos of Obito and Rin.

How did this man know these would be the items you’d want most? How long had he been following you? You felt a shiver roll down your spine.

What you presume to be hours later, the masked man returns to check on you. He’s more timid than he was before. Approaching you carefully.

“Thank you” you say, looking at the floor, “for bringing me some of my stuff. I’m still pissed, and I’m not staying here, but I appreciate the effort.” You were terrified but you didn’t want him to know that. You were going to find a way out of this. You just had to figure out how to get out of this damned dimension first.

If only you could see the smile below his mask. Overwhelmed by how cute you are he pulls you into a hug. You’re stiff with terror but you feel his strong torso pushed up against your own and you can’t help the little part of you that is left breathless. It feels familiar and warm but you can’t place why.

“I love you Peach.” he says as he holds you in his arms, laying his head on top of your head. He was insane. You reply to him with a shaking voice,

“If you loved me you’d give me some windows instead of dreary slate abyss. I can’t even tell what time of day it is.”

“Sorry, voids don’t work that way, Peach.”

“Sorry, I guess being abducted is new to me.” you forced the sass into your tone. You were petrified but you needed a way out of here. You figured maybe you could manipulate his affection for you.

Obito winces at the word abduction. He prefers to think of it as protection

“What? You didn’t think I’d be okay with this, did you? That is the title of what this is.” You weren’t sure where this bravery came from but he was buying it.

“At least I’m not trying to poison you against your own clan, or acting as the architect to kill your childhood crush.” he said with a venom that made you believe he was speaking from experience but you were too focused on your own situation to care. Your false bravery turned into false anger.

“Sorry to steal the opportunity away from you but I don’t have much in the way of a clan and my childhood crush is already dead.”

His face snapped and locked onto yours. “What did you say?”

“I’m not repeating myself, I know you heard me the first time.”

You watched as his throat bobbed beneath his black mask. Why did that impact him so much? Who was this guy anyways? He acted like he had known you your whole life yet you only know him as a mask and tuft of hair.

“Who are you?”

He turned and walked away from you, “Someone long dead to you”

Well that didn’t answer any questions. If anything it brought up more.

“Well if you won’t tell me who you are, then tell me what to call you.”

“Currently the world knows me as Tobi.”’

“Do you want me to call you Tobi then?”

“No…”

“Then what do I call you?”

He paused. “I guess Tobi is fine.”

“Okay, well Tobi, I want to go home. I am not spending my life tucked inside this vault.”

“That’s out of the question.”

You inhale deeply. Acting skills front and center. “Then I guess my safety isn’t guaranteed.”

He glanced over, tilting his head, giving you a questioning look.

“Your top priority is my safety. I can think of a lot of ways to make myself unsafe all alone here in this little void of yours,” You taunt him with your words as your eyes dart around the room.

His blood boiled over. Were you really suggesting what he thought you were? And over some dumb sunlight?! His hands twitched by his side.

“Tobi, if you intend for this” you say pointing around the void, “to be the rest of my life, it will be a short one because I’m not doing it.” you cross your arms. Of course you weren’t actually suicidal but you were going to say anything to better your circumstances. He may be your psychotic captor but he seemed to have a weakness for your well being and you were going to pull at that thread till he unraveled.

He heaved a heavy sigh before grumbling. “Give me a day to figure it out.”

“And how will I know if it's been a day?! I can’t tell time without the sun or so much as a frickin watch!”

The theatrics were working.

“I’m sorry Peach, I’ll be back.”

He fled from the void with his tail between his legs. You let out a huge breath. How you were able to pull that stunt off was beyond you. Desperation breeds its own strength. You hoped with all your might when he came back it was to get you out of his little dimension.

You waited, having absolutely nothing to do. No books, no games, no radio, no food, no beverage…nothing.

You mind tortured you with thoughts. You wondered how everyone was back home, rejecting the demons of your subconscious telling you that you may never see them again.

I will find a way out of this.

You strolled around checking out what was behind all the gray boxes. Surprise, it was more gray boxes. You climbed each one, beginning to count them as you went. You were usually a very ambitious person but there was nothing to do. You began playing with your jutsu to see if it would work in a void. Update: it does. You brought an entire kilometer to rubble just for fun and treaded up the path you created to get some exercise. Then you jumped block to block, back to your little makeshift bedroom waiting for Tobi. Eventually you got tired so you made yourself ready for bed hoping that when you woke up he would be back with updated living arrangements.

*******************************************************

You turn over as you stir and nuzzle into a hand that is softly petting your hair.

“Good Morning Peach”

You stiffen before your eyes dart up to his. Mask of bravery back in place, you greet him. “Good morning Tobi.” He winces. He hates how the false moniker sounds coming from your mouth.

“I see you started destroying my void.”

“I was bored so I decided to train.”

A hearty chuckle left his throat. “I made arrangements but please understand I will not sound or behave like myself where we are going.”

“And why is that?”

“You will see eventually.”

“Oh boy, so glad you enlightened me.” you lay the sarcasm thick and it only makes him laugh more. Good, he finds you charming. You can work with this.

“I also want to warn you, we will be among rogue shinobi.”

“So your idea of keeping me safe is to have me live with the very people that I’ve been hunting. The very same people who want to kill me and my friends?”

“Yes, If you are among us, no one will bother you. If you remained in the village, you would be subject to their…missions.”

“Seems like stupid logic if you ask me.”

“Please trust me.”

“I don’t, but I don’t have a choice either.”

“At least you’re not dumb”

“Did you think I was?”

“Not even for a second.”

He grabbed your hand with his strong possessive one. Something about the way your palm fit in his felt right. You weren’t sure why but that was the signal your brain sent your hand when you gripped it tighter. A psychopath whose hand you were holding. Great, you’ve completely lost your marbles a mere three days into captivity.

Next thing you knew you could smell the air of the earth again, you could see the shadows left by the sun, happiness washed over you in a visible way and Tobi’s fingers slid between yours upon seeing your reaction. He pulled you into another hug, he seems to always be hugging you. It’s like he’s forcing you to get used to him. “I will be this person when we are alone. I will be another when the others are around. You understand?”

You nod your head worried about what he could possibly mean? What kind of a monster is he around this gang of thugs that he needs to warn you?

He removes his hand from yours and places it between your shoulder blades pushing you towards a cavern. A man with orange hair, purple eyes and many piercings looks you up and down as you enter.

“Tobi, this is her?”

“Yes Pain! This is the hostage I spoke about!” His voice was comically high pitched and he sounded like a child. You tried your hardest not to react but it was just so different from what you were expecting.

“Put her in the dungeon.”

“Well sir, remember I requested she stay in my room, sir?!”

“Yes but she’s a hostage, who will stop her from escaping?”

“Do you really think she’s dumb enough to try and leave the hideout of the Akatsuki?”

Your face went pale as you realized just who you had been dealing with this whole time. They were supposed to wear black cloaks with red clouds. You hadn’t seen Tobi wear his once! Always dressed in all black with sandles. But your reaction built a convincing case. The man named Pain accepted your fear as enough of a restraint. He didn’t question why it would be Tobi’s room but some blonde man eyed you hungirly and told Pain Tobi was probably keeping you in his room to finally lose his virginity.

Once behind his door, he modulated his voice back to normal.

“What the hell was that?” you asked more honestly than you intended.

“What? You’ve never seen an act before?”

“Well of course. But why do you make yourself seem like a fool?”

“So no one will suspect.”

“Suspect what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Here.” Tobi swirls you back into his void and he starts gathering your things. After a second you begin to copy him and he brings you both back to his room in the Akatsuki hideout. You start to find nooks and crannies to store your things leaving only one remaining item in your hands. He watches you as you look down on your photos of your friends. Eyes lingering over the one of you and Obito before you tuck them away with mist in your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“No, but…thank you…for bringing the photos. I don’t know how you knew but I appreciate it.”

Tobi pulled you into another hug. You were unsure why he cared so much and why you kept letting him hug you. Maybe it was cause compared to your new roommates he suddenly seems less scary. To his credit this hug felt nice. Plus, since it seems like he was going to be your only companion for a while, you decided to tolerate it.

He unfurled the hug and began tugging at your shirt. Lifting the hem above your neck, exposing your bare breasts.

“Hey!”

He disregarded your complaint and touched where your stab wound had been. “How does it feel?”

“It’s fine.” You say blushing while you cover your bosom. “May you please let go of my shirt now?”

“Huh? Oh, of course. Sorry Peach.” He drops your shirt and backs away swiftly almost as if he was embarrassed. He seemed a little more humane today so you decided to press your luck and scout out your surroundings.

“Can we go outside? I’d appreciate some sun and maybe some real food”

He gives you a piercing stare out of the eye hole of his mask. “Stay by my side. I know you are strong but however strong you think you are, I am stronger.”

You gulp remembering the massacre you witnessed three days ago.

“I will be your protector. No one will hurt you ever again.” he lifted your chin so you’d look up at his eye through the swirling mask. “I promise.”

“I believe you…”

You see his eye crease when you speak. He was happy. That’s good. Keep him happy and it will give you openings to escape…though you weren’t sure outrunning him would be possible given his tricky teleportation ability.

You spend the afternoon with him, gathering intel and acting flirty, playing along with his advances. When he grabbed your hand, you laced your fingers. When he reached for your hip, you reached for his. When he hugged you, you draped your arms around his neck. You play into his affection for you, keeping him happy, earning his trust and lowering his guard. If I keep this up, captivity will be bearable. But you also feared that if you acted a little too well, you may fall for your own lies. Holding him today felt too easy given your desperate situation. Was it a genjutsu perhaps?

Nighttime came and instead of parading you past the other members of the Akatsuki who were home between missions, he teleported you both straight to his chambers. You get ready for bed and realize you do not have a bed of your own. It was still in the void. Would he send you to spend the nights in the void? He cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I would feel safest if you shared the bed with me.” he said looking down. “You can sleep on the opposite side of the bed if you would like but I don’t want an enemy who finds the hideout to get to you before I wake.”

You swallow nervously. You know he loves you. That much is obvious but you are searching for signs that he might try to take advantage of you while you’re unconscious. You think back to earlier when he was checking your wound. He didn’t seem to register that he had exposed your breasts for his pleasure. It was almost like your anatomy was irrelevant, only your well being consumed his thoughts. You chose to believe he will be respectful and so you agree.

“Pick whichever side you want. I’ll be back when I’m done.” He grabs a fresh pair of pants and heads to the bathroom. When the door is snapped shut you stand there looking at the bed. You’ve never chosen a side of the bed before. You’ve never been in a situation where you had to. You paced around the mattress like it was the most daunting choice you ever had to make. It’s not like this was a long term decision. You’d escape or convince him to let you go soon enough. So why were you weighing your options so carefully?

Eventually you decide to choose the side closest to the window and give him the side closest to the door. You were much more afraid of his fellow gang members coming in with less than pure intentions than you were of outside shinobi coming for the blood of the Akatsuki.

Just as you finally slip between the sheets, Tobi comes out of the bathroom with only a pair of black stretch sweatpants on. Your eyes drink up his figure. His body was half white as if made up of false materials but it moved like it was his real body. He was extremely toned, swollen pecs and chiseled abs cut across his upper body causing a little drool to pool in the corner of your mouth. Most surprisingly, he also took off his mask and below you saw battle torn skin that etched across the right side of a face that was intimidating, yet soft and familiar. His eyes catch you staring and he quickly looks down removing some of the intimidation you felt.

He scratches the back of his neck. “I haven’t shown my face to anyone in years. I’m sorry if it scares you. I just can’t always sleep in the mask.”

“No, it’s fine” you say in a hoarse voice. Your throat had suddenly gone dry. “It’s not scary.”

It wasn’t but what did scare you was the thoughts of what epic battle had mangled him to this degree only for him to survive and still be as strong as he is. You suddenly wondered if he was invincible and if escape would ever be possible.

He took his position on the vacant side of the bed, smiling that you left him by the door. He knew exactly why you chose the side you did. He turned to face you from under the covers.

“Goodnight Peach.”

“Goodnight Tobi.”

You see him wince as you say his name. You knew he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t want you calling him by that name. He turns over and extinguishes the candle letting darkness blanket the room as you drift to sleep with surprising ease. Your body’s alarm, shockingly low given your current residence.

*******************************************************

Sunlight seeps into the room as Obito wakes up. He suddenly realizes how warm he is and it only took a few more blinks of his groggy eyes to realize why. You had traveled over to his side of the bed last night and latched onto him. He smiled, feeling his chest fill with joy. He petted your hair. You were his. You didn’t know it yet, but you were. In a few short days not only were you almost completely healed from your recent battle but you were falling for him too. Hugging him, holding his hand, cuddling in bed, Obito had never experienced human touch like this before but he was sure it didn’t always feel this right.

He tries waking you but is met with grumpy groans and you bury yourself deeper into his chest. He kisses the top of your head as your little fists cling to him tight. He gave up on trying to wake you and let you ride out your sleep, enjoying the cuddles that were sure to cease as soon as you came to.

Sure enough, nearly an hour later he hears you sharply inhale as you withdraw from him. You quickly sit up and face the window as he casually stretches and gets up.

“Good Morning” he yawns feeling smug and powerful

“Morning” you say as you adjust your messy bun, trying to seem casual as you hide your embarrassment that you were needily cuddling with your kidnapper.

You both get ready for the day, you donning a set of tactical clothes for no reason other than it was what you were used to and him, his mask and Akatsuki gear, no longer hiding the cloak now that you knew his occupation. He grabs your hip and teleports you to a tea shop for breakfast.

You live out a week in this manner. Spending all your free time together. Occasionally having run-ins with the other Akatsuki members. They eye you in a bone chilling way. You are certain they are calculating how to enter into your room without awakening Tobi. They are nothing but disrespectful towards him, but he gives as good as he gets. You especially have to hone your acting skills to not laugh when Tobi says something ignorant and rude in his comedic tone, earning the anger of who you now know is his partner Deidara.

One thing that bothers you the most is the ever watchful eyes of the mass murderer Itachi Uchiha. He is always polite and quiet and would seemingly be the nicest of the members if not for his reputation for slaughtering his entire clan. It’s always the quiet ones. You didn’t like how he would stare at you. After your last run in with him and Kisame, you were sure they were looking for retribution. You decide to bring this up to Tobi as he gets in bed.

“Tobi,” he winces “I know you said I’d be safe here among the other members but I recently fought against Itachi and Kisame. I don’t like how the Uchiha looks at me. I feel like he’s looking for payback.”

“He’s not.”

You were annoyed at how quickly his dismissed you. His concern for your safety was then entire reason for your current predicament.

“How do you know that?”

“Cause I know him.”

“So you should know what he did.”

“I do.”

“And you trust him?”

“With my life.”

“How can you say that? He doesn’t even know your true identity?”

You are gobsmacked by the wild claim Tobi is making. He killed his entire bloodline and Tobi was okay with that. It was moments like this that reminded you that Tobi was a murderer, not the lovable goof that he had been masquerading around as.

“Itachi is the only person walking this earth who knows my true identity.”

Your jaw drops open.

“But you said that no one had seen your face…”

“It’s true, he does not know my face but he knows my identity.” You were at a loss. “One day I will enlighten you on the events of that night but know this, of every person here, Itachi is the one you can trust the most to keep you safe. If anything happens to me, he is entrusted with your safety.”

The thought terrified you. He was out of his mind. You saw what Itachi did to Kakashi first hand. You saw the morning after the Uchiha massacre. He was not to be trusted. “Tobi, no…”

His nose twitches and that was the last straw. “Well if you hate the name Tobi so much then why do you go by it!” your emotions had been high strung for over a week and you were snapping, boldly yelling at your captor.

“I don’t hate the name. I just hate when you say it.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!”

“Cause it feels wrong to hear you call me by something other than my name.”

“There’s just no winning with you. I can’t call you by your real name cause it’s some big secret that only a serial killer knows and oh yeah, apparently that same psychopath inherits me if you die!”

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing in frustration. You weren’t even sure why it bothered you so much. This is a temporary situation. You were kidnapped. You were going to escape. If Tobi dies then it will mean you’re finally free. You just have to find a way to sneak out of this hideout and you could finally go home.

“He’s the only one I can trust to guard you with his life.”

You roll your eyes, huffing once more before pursing your lips. “Why? I need to know, Tobi. Why?”

He looks down and shrinks in your gaze. “Because only he knows what it’s like to love as an Uchiha.”

You felt the wind knocked out of you. Was he saying what you think he is?

“You’re a…?”

“Yes.”

“But Itachi…”

“...had help.”

Your hand flys to your mouth covering it in shock.

He finally looks up at you. “Y/N, it’s not what you think it is. I can explain.”

You feel fear chill your entire body and you see on his face how upset he is that you are more afraid of him than ever. He rushes towards you and gets on his knees begging and pleading, “please allow me to explain.”

“Your clan…you helped him murder…all those people.” you said it robotically. You begin to disassociate from the conversation, lost in thought till you circled around to the realization that no one talked about a missing body among the corpses. The only survivor was Saskue. There was no one else left unaccounted for among the names of the fallen brethren. So who was Tobi?

“Tobi, if you’re an Uchiha, then who are you?”

His face flushed to a cherry red. Despite the horrifying details he just shared, for the first time you felt you had the upper hand in your captivity. Why was he so afraid to tell you? He grabbed both your hands, rubbing his thumbs along your knuckles.

Your eyes bore into him anxiously waiting for an answer.

“It’s me.”

You remained silent, your stern expression waiting for clarification.

“Obito”

Your hands went limp in his hold. Every tense muscle relaxed as your heart leapt to your throat getting your hopes up. Then after a moment you began shaking and crying with anger.

“That’s not funny, Tobi.” You growled at him in quiet rage. “Obito died over a decade ago. Kakashi and Rin saw it happen. None of us were the same after. I visit his grave every day I’m in the village. But I’m sure you knew that already, didn't you?” You were seeing red. He had been stalking you. This was all a ruse to get you to fall for him. You didn’t care for your safety at this moment, even after discovering he was a part of one of the most heinous crimes in the history of the Leaf, you were going to knock sense into this liar if it was the last thing you ever did.

“Y/N, it’s me. It’s really me.” He grabs your photo of him and holds it by his face. “See?”

You can’t see the resemblance cause your eyes are too full of tears.

“Take your hands off that photo! Don’t touch it!”

“Y/N, think about it.” He pleads with you, “Kakashi has a sharingan in his left eye. My left eye is missing. Obito was crushed under a boulder on his right side. Look at my right side! It looks like this.” he gestured to the Hashirama cells, “I was rescued, Y/N. Madara found me. I survived.”

You had to admit that it made sense except for the last part.

“Madara is dead.”

“He is now, but he wasn’t at the time. He became my master after the accident, after I healed, after Rin…”

His voice cracked at the last word. It was a sobering sound causing your anger to break.

“...Obito?”

He swallowed heavily, “Yes”

You believed him….

The wave of emotion that crashed over you knocked you to your knees. You fell to the ground sobbing. The boy you had loved all your life was before you, taking care of you, alive and well. A monster who had done horrendous things but he was alive. The realization broke your mind. Obito joined you on the floor, holding you as you cried in his arms.

“Why did you never come back? All of us, we needed you. I-I needed you.”

“I can’t tell you that Peach. But I’m here now. I won’t leave you.”

Your hands grabbed at him like he would disappear at any given moment. One arm wrapping around his back, the other cradling his head as you hyperventilate in his arms.

He nuzzles into the curve of your neck as he professes, “I love you Peach.”

You wanted to say it back but talking wasn’t an option. You were too overcome with emotion.

He helped you up to standing and laid you down on the bed. He got in next to you and held you in his arms till your cries quieted. His large palm stroking over your back, comforting you as your mind came to grips with the fact that he was very much alive and very much in love with you the way you were in love with him.

Occasionally as you cried, he’d kiss your cheek or your temple. Suddenly all the terrifying things you’d witnessed over the past ten days were no longer so terrifying. He stalked you cause he loved you. He murdered all those shinobi to protect you. He kidnapped you cause he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. The alarms that he been blaring in your head all turned quiet.

Your breathing began to return to normal and you pulled away to look at Obito squarely in the face, leaving no room for misinterpretation. You needed him to know your intentions.

You grabbed both sides of his face and leaned in for a kiss. He quickly pulled you into his body as tightly as he could, squishing you into his chest, nearly breaking your ribs with want. You both inhaled deeply as your lips locked onto each other. You opened your mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss. It was your first one after all, you wanted to make it good.

You toss your leg over his hip, grinding into him as one of his hands lowered to stroke your thigh and ass cheek. You moan into his mouth, him returning your sounds of affection into your own. The stroking of your leg became rough as his tough hands grip into the flesh of your behind. Your breathing heavy and ragged as your arousal increases.

Eventually he falls to his back as you straddle him, hunching over to feast on his mouth while you continue to roll your hips against his pants. You were in the most heated and only kiss of your life and you were sure for Obito it was the same. His deep groans as you dry humped his boner concealed inside his sweatpants made your heart flutter with excitement. Everything that had been stolen from you as an adolescent was right beneath you, in your arms and between your legs.

Obito released your lips to lean his head back with a particularly loud moan echoing out of him causing Deidera to pound against the wall. “Just cause I knew you were going to fuck her doesn’t mean I need to hear it you fucking virgins!”

You laugh centimeters from his face before he flips you onto the bed so he is hovering over your panting silhouette. Lashes fluttering as you salivate from the way his strong presence looms over you.

“Obito, I…” He kisses you slow and deep, not letting you speak. You break the kiss to finish your sentence. “I love you.”

He latches onto your lips again before speaking into your mouth, “I love you too.”

You wrap both of your legs around him, lifting yourself up to rut into him when he finally leans back on his knees to rip down your pajama pants, letting your legs fall to each side, exposing your soft flesh, ready and waiting to be sullied with unholy deeds. He sinks down, positioning himself between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him with curious interest.

He kisses and sucks on your inner thighs. He releases the pliable flesh with a pop and smiles at his artwork. Of course he’d leave a mark the first chance he got. You were his after all.

He worked his way to your center, licking a stripe up your sex before latching over your little bundle of nerves. He began to suck on it as if hoping to separate it from your body. He licked the small nub gently between vicious suckling, driving you wild and causing you to squirm. Your hand shot down to rest in his hair as you furrowed your brows and tilted your hips up into his chin, soaking his face in your secretions. Desperate need consuming your body.

He came up for air and crawled back up over you to get another one of your sweet kisses, before sinking his fingers into your tight virgin cunt. You whimper into his lips. He drags his fingers in and out of you causing you to clench around them. You make small cries as you feel him attempting to stretch you, readying you for his intrusion.

Your hand reached for him, looking to sink beneath his pants to stroke what you desired. He propped himself up on his elbow next to you while his hand reached between your legs. You slipped between his abdominals and his waistband, fingers gliding around his thick base before closing around it and stroking upwards. Obito shuddered at your touch, hips instinctively thrusting towards you. Your hand firmly set around him, stroking up and down, you twisted towards his face to continue kissing him. The sloppy exchange continuing while you worked between each other’s legs. The heat radiated off of your bodies as your lust filled every pore. You pull back, a trail of spit connecting your mouths as you speak.

“I’m ready.”

Obito withdrew his fingers as he leaned away. He sucked his fingers clean as he stood up next to the bed. He dropped his pants so that they pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of the fabric and crawled back on the bed over you.

He gently glided his barren length over your folds, lubricating himself in your sopping wet juices. His tip lightly poked at your swollen bud causing your breath to hitch. He gives you a nod signaling he’s going in. He sinks just the tip in and your arms tighten around him in response.

“Are you okay?”

You look up into his eyes and nod. “Mhm”

He begins to push inwards. You gasp at the stretch. It was painful but soon it shifted into a pleasurable sensation.

“Are you still okay?”

You bit your lower lip as you nod in agreement. He reached down. He wanted to be the one biting your lip. Connecting his with yours once more, his tongue swirled with passion as he stroked in and out of you slowly, allowing you to turn into a puddle under him. You cry into his mouth as you feel your walls constrict around him. You had never felt anything quite like it. Every part of you was satisfied in this position. Legs wrapped around his waist, lips connected with his, sharing the air you breathed, and the feeling of him buried in you. It was love in its purest sense.

His soft slow romantic strokes began to give way as he realized how good the friction felt. Your tight walls wrapped around him so well, squeezing him in a way he could have never even dreamt about. You were perfection itself and it was making him ravenous.

He rolled his hips into you till they slapped against your rear. You make little sounds in response to the connection. It encourages him so he continues to roll. You keep mewling with each stroke. It is an anthem to his heart and he wants to hear it played louder. He begins slamming into you. You want to take it and please him but it’s becoming too much.

You see his eyes gloss over. He’s consumed with the unfamiliar sensation. He flips you onto your stomach. He straddles you with his knees on either side of your legs, pinning them together. He thrusts up and in as you lay down flat. He slams his palm down on your cheek and you make a small grunt upon impact. You hear him smirk.”tch” He wants to do that again.

You grunt a second time. He sits back on his heels and pulls your perfect body up off the bed and sits you down on his erection. Back facing him, he snakes his hands around your front and under your shirt. His muscular arms lift you up and down on him as you sing out little sounds of pleasure.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing such a good job.”

You completely exhale as he whispers praise into your ear. Your heart thundering at a wild pace as one hand grabs on top of his hand that has a bruising grip on your chest and the other reaches back to grab him behind his head.

He bends forward to lay light kisses along your neck and into the curve of your shoulder. You were his every desire. All the dangerous things he was capable of were only out of love for you. He would murder hordes of shinobi, tame tailed beasts, and level entire cities in your honor. He would do anything to live this moment on repeat for the rest of his life.

You twist in his arms, politely asking to look upon his face. He sits back as he lifts you off of him. You turn around on your knees and straddle his lap, facing him as he tugs at your hem, gently lifting the fabric over your head and tossing it to a dark corner of the room.

He hunches down to taste your perky peaks. His tongue dragging along each nub before his lips close around it with a gentle suckle. Your head lulls backwards as you cry out blissfully, allowing the new sensations to overwhelm your mind. Obito rocks your body up and down along his shaft but he doesn’t think he will be able to hold out much longer.

He gingerly lays you down on your back, propping your legs open with his arms as he leans down, pushing his chest into yours. You feel your flexibility being tested as he sinks into you and your eyes widen at how deep he went. He begins to stroke, craving the warmth of the fast friction generated by his thrusts. He allows his sack to sway into your rear, hitting it with a satisfying clap at each impact. Your face begins to twist with pleasure. Your rhythmic cries calling to him like a siren's song.

He leans down and presses his lips into yours, allowing your moans to reverberate around the inside of his mouth. He nears his climax as you reach yours. Releasing together in loving harmony. He slowly pumps into you, draining the seed from his length into your loving walls that graciously drink it in.

Your doting eyes never leave his face. You realize you are hopelessly bound to him. You would never escape your captivity, nor did you want to. Both of you have surrendered to the other. Your head collapses onto the pillow and he licks one last stripe up your neck before falling next to you and kissing your jaw. His strong finger tugs at your chin, turning you to him so he may continue to adorn your lips with kisses.

Your faces would fold into each other's necks as your bodies tangled together under the covers. The man who kidnapped you, now your most valued treasure. He would possessively hold his delicate little peach every night from henceforth and you would never speak of going home ever again because now that Obito lay with you, you were home. You allow your eyes to close and your heart to go still as you fall into a deep slumber in his arms.

Home…

Masterlist

#obito x reader #obito uchiha #obito is daddy #obito smut #tobi fan fiction #daddy tobi #tobi simp #tobi x reader #tobi smut #uchiha fan fiction #uchiha smut #uchiha obito #yandere #obito x you #yandere obito

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