#yuta fics

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Thirteen

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

length: 7,692 words

summary: down in the dungeons of the watchers, you seek answers 

<-previous || next–>

From a dark cell halfway down the block, you hear your name. The voice echoes from the damp walls and floor, distorting strangely, but even in the dark, even in death probably, you would know it. 

The first time you ever heard Yuta’s voice, materializing out of the dark in the cemetery on that All Hallow’s Eve night, coming into existence in sparks and smoke and the scent of sulfur, there had been an immediate reaction. Despite the terror and confusion of that situation, you had found some solace in the sound of his voice, like even though Ten had summoned him there, Yuta had actually come to protect you. 

Standing here in the dank dungeon of the Watchers, you find that comfort in hearing his voice again. 

Your feet land in a puddle, splashing cold slimy water over your ankles. Not even that can dampen your mood, the sudden flare of happiness building in your chest, your heart thumping like a pulsating star. 

“Yuta?” You whisper, barely believing your ears. 

Renjun still sits back by the bench at the stairs, unmoving as you creep forward a few steps, unable to tell which of the cells ahead of you the voice came from. 

There it is again. Your name, confused and questioning, but hopeful. 

It’s him. That’s Yuta’s voice, for sure.

“Yuta!” You cry, unable to help the tears that burst into your eyes, unable to mask the elation in your voice as you run by the empty cells of the row, finally reaching the one his voice came from. You throw yourself against the bars of Yuta’s cell. At last. 

He’s immediately there too. Yuta. He presses against the bars as much as he can, hands reaching out to hold your face. Each of you is starving for the touch of the other. The bars dig against your cheeks, the metal grating against his wrists as he tries to pull you closer. You wish you could squeeze yourself between the bars to touch him, to feel him wrap around you in a hug, to be able to kiss Yuta, to just be with him. 

It’s a half-success. 

You clutch at each other, hands on cheeks and in hair, lips brushing. That is almost enough; you want all of him, but if you have to settle for just this, settle for being separated by these bars, then you can live with that for right now. 

“Yuta,” you murmur, repeating, “Yuta.” 

Your name falls like a prayer from his lips as well. He holds onto you like you’re a dream, scared that you’re going to slip through his fingers. He tips his forehead against the bar between you, his hands stroking at your cheeks as he sighs, “You’re here. Why are you here?” 

“I’m here with Mark and WinWin. We wanted to see why you were here.” You cover his hands on your face with your hands. “We want to get you two out of here.”

“They were supposed to keep you safe.” A voice growls from the dark cell beside Yuta’s.

Your heart drops and soars, squeezing and expanding. You swear it stops beating for a moment before it is suddenly racing. 

Ten. 

He’s right there, appearing from the darkness at the back of his cell beside Yuta’s. He wraps his hands around the bars, peering out at you. Startlingly, he doesn’t look at all pleased to see you.

 “Why the fuck would they bring you here?” Ten asks, his face drawn tight and pale. Shadows rest beneath his eyes. “I told you to stay safe, and instead you come and hang out in the very teeth of the lion? Not even just its den, but right here, in the thick of it all. What were they fucking thinking, bringing you here?”

You break away from Yuta, moving over to the next cell. 

Ten is sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall between his cell and Yuta’s, his knees drawn up to his chest, one hand twisted around the bars of his cell. He’s staring down at the floor, at your feet when you come to stand just in front of him, but when he lifts his gaze to your face, you see a light begin to glow from inside him. 

“I’ve missed you, my darling,” Ten says, his voice breaking around his favorite sweet name for you. He clears his throat before continuing, “But I really don’t want to see you here.” 

“They didn’t bring me here. I came willingly, intentionally.” You’re already curling yourself around the bars, reaching in for him, clutching one of his hands in yours. He feels startlingly cold for how warm you usually know him to be. “Ten, I would’ve come here even if WinWin and Mark hadn’t brought me along. Do you think I wouldn’t follow wherever you all go? I followed you and Yuta to Hell when I barely even knew you. Don’t you think I’d come here now that I actually know you? Now when I’m in love with you both?”

Ten smiles, pulling himself in closer to you. “That’s romantic, but you really shouldn’t be here.”

“Why?” You touch your forehead to the bars of his cell, and he does the same on his side. So close. “The Watchers welcomed us to stay for your trial, and of course I’m going to stay. We’ve been here for a few days already, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to either get down here to see you, to break you out of here, or to understand what it is exactly that you’re on trial for, but they’re being annoyingly avoidant on what the two of you have done to deserve imprisonment and a trial. And given that it’s tomorrow that you two will be going before the High Watcher, I know I’m cutting it close.” 

Ten tips his head against the bar just-so, and he manages to get in a kiss. A soft peck followed by, “Don’t worry about it.”

You want to melt into him again, to sink into a proper kiss with him, but Ten’s words and the prison bars make it difficult. You pull back, moving far enough that you can see both of them separated by the solid stone wall between their cells. You lean against the wall opposite their cells, looking at both Yuta and Ten watching you. You feel the heat of your annoyance mingling with your excitement to have found them whole and alive, and the unlit torches on the wall flare to life, casting a warm orange glow over Yuta and Ten. They both stare at you. The flickering of the flames casts strange shadows over their faces.

“What did you do? Why won’t anyone tell me that?” You sit down on the floor, finding a fortunately dry spot to settle in and fold your legs in front of you. “Did they bring you here because you attacked a Watcher? Is that it?”

Yuta glances towards Ten’s cell. “We didn’t attack anyone when they arrested us. Is that what they told you? We came mostly peacefully. I mean, fuck, we argued, but we didn’t get violent. Who told you we attacked one of them?”

You shake your head. “I don’t mean when you were brought here.” You look back and forth between your demon lovers, and you’re familiar enough with their features that you can tell that they have no clue what you’re talking about. Do they really not know? “Before the arrest, a few months ago.”

Ten curses. “False charges? They’re trying to make us sound horrible with trumped up false charges?” He snarls, and for a moment his eyes flicker pitch black, swallowing the firelight of the torches like two black holes. Yuta just rolls his eyes and leans his shoulder against the bars of his cell, waiting for Ten to calm down.

You hold your breath. Should you tell them?

Yuta looks at you, studying you for a long moment, and you study him in return. He doesn’t look nearly as irritated by the idea of these false charges as Ten does. He looks impatient, waiting for Ten to stop cursing and pacing angrily in the cell next door. He looks tired and full of want, like he wants to turn those cell bars into smoke, to step through them, to be able to properly embrace you. You know that there was a time that Yuta could have used brute strength, if not his demon powers, to turn those bars to shreds, and the fact that he hasn’t means that he and Ten must not have any of their powers.

“You’re talking about him. Right?” Yuta says once Ten finally falls silent.

Ten’s steady pacing falters.

“Him?” You ask. “Him, who?”

Now Yuta’s the one with a curled lip, his words nearly a snarl when he says, “Don’t make me say his name, my love. That filthy ex-lover of yours.” He spits on the floor between his feet. “The one who pretended to be human, who pretended to be an exorcist. The one who, it turns out, is a God-damned Watcher.” 

Ten’s body presses against the bars again as he tries to achieve an angle to be able to see Yuta’s face. “What?” His voice pitches a little higher. “That douchebag is one of these dicks? Why didn’t you tell me?” He reaches out, bending his arm at an awkward angle, trying to reach over to Yuta’s cell as if to grab him to demand answers. “How long have you known?” Ten’s arm falls limp, still hanging out between the bars he clings to with his other hand. 

You’re curious as well. How long has Yuta known that Hansol was more than he first appeared?

“That day when we brought you back, he felt strange. When we fought with him, there was something more than human about the way that he defended himself, but I didn’t think too much of it,” Yuta says, and his eyebrows draw together into a frown, recalling the memory. “I figured it was just a byproduct of him being an exorcist. Of course, now we know that he was just posing as an exorcist. But he’s the one that came down to below Hell City, the one to make the arrest.” 

That had been Hansol that day. You remember thinking that the back of his head had struck you as familiar in the moment before Ten was dragging you away. But you’d never made the connection. Why would you? Hansol had always seemed just a normal guy up until the moment the door in the Church had opened to reveal him with the pastor, but even then you’d still believed him to be human, something you’d wholly believed up until earlier, when his hood fell back. 

Ten shakes his head and slumps down into a crouch beside the bars. “Damn, he had his hood back up by the time I got there after sending you away.” He stares at the floor and shakes his head. “If I’d known who he was, you can bet I’d have fought him then and there. We should’ve ended him the day we met him.”

“Then you’d definitely be down here for that. I’m sure killing a Watcher is no easy feat, and it’s definitely one that they would consider punishable.” You lift your hands to your face, digging the heels of your palms against your eyes. “It’s too late now, regardless. He’s up there, and when I came down here, WinWin and Mark were fighting with him, making a good distraction. So, what exactly did you two do that landed you here, in the dungeon of the Watchers? The one that brought us inside the House said that you both broke some accord? But he wouldn’t go into any more detail than that. No one will tell us anything more than that.” You glance over towards the mouth of the tunnel, and you see Renjun hovering there, all silvery and quietly, trying not to draw attention to himself. You look back to Yuta, and you ask, “What accord? What did you do?”

Neither Yuta nor Ten says anything. They neither one look directly at you, either. 

“Please,” you beg, “Just tell me. We want to get you out of here, and if we can’t break you out, then the next best thing is going to be to help defend you in what is surely going to be a farcical trial.” Yuta at least looks up now, staring at your face like he’s trying to memorize it. Ten keeps watching the play of shadows by his feet. “I need to know what the two demons I love did that ended them up in a supernatural prison in Purgatory.”

The dungeon falls silent while you await an answer. You hear water dripping somewhere from the stones. Renjun sits silently back where you left him beside the stairs, but a glance in his direction reveals that he is still sitting there, silvery and quiet. You wait, silent and unmoving, your mind whirring as you look back and forth between Yuta and Ten, waiting for one of them to tell you what must be such a terrible thing for them to have done if they’re so reluctant to tell you.

After several long moments of silence, Yuta sighs. A heavy sound that crackles with exhaustion. 

“We took you. That’s what we did.” 

The quiet air buzzes after his admission. They took you? Just because two demons brought you back to Hell City, they were here in Watcher prison? 

“That doesn’t make sense. Why is that such a crime?” You ask.  

“We weren’t supposed to take you,” Yuta admits. “That was the accord. A peace accord between demons and Watchers. The demons leave you to a human life of ignorance. The Watchers leave you alone as well.” 

But what makes you so special that they would make a specific rule for that? Yeah, there’s the whole thing with you being part-human with demon powers, but that can’t be unusual enough to call for a special accord being put in place. 

Yuta answers the question without you having to ask it aloud.           

“Such beings as you are aren’t meant to exist, not in their ideology. It creates too much risk, too much of a crossover between the supernatural world and the ignorant world that humans live in. They wanted to eliminate such a risky concern, put you to death before your existence could become a problem, but instead demons and Watchers signed a peace. You were safe being raised in your faith, in your little Church, unaware of this whole world. Things got a little more complicated after your parents died.”

“Complicated how?” Your voice shrinks, half-swallowed by the dark shadows of the dungeon. The flickering light of the flames above you seem smaller, dimmer as you listen calmly. 

Yuta stares at you, his eyes warm brown, watchful and focused. “Everything grew tangled,” he explains. “The specifics of the accord were a little hazy.”

Okay, and?

Ten lifts his head suddenly, and his face is pale, eyes dark and blazing as he confesses, “Everything was complicated, and to make it worse, we lied.” 

Your body goes cold, a shiver slithering along your stiffening spine. They lied? 

Yuta hisses something under his breath, doing his best to glare sideways at Ten, but the bars and the wall between them entirely prevent that. He turns back to you. “After your parents died, there was a risk that you might dig into the mystery of their deaths, and you could discover the meaning of the sigils, that there were demons involved. Maybe you would fall down a pathway that would lead you to discovering who you really were. That you had powers. Everyone was watching for you then, we told you that. Demons were looking for you, the Watchers were too.” 

“We shouldn’t have lied to you,” Ten interjects, talking over Yuta. 

Your belly goes tight. The ‘to you’ part of Ten’s statement has your body locking up. When he’d first said that they lied, you thought he meant in general. Not that the two of them lied to you. What did they lie about?

Apparently no longer satisfied with sitting silent and letting Yuta tell his version of this story, Ten continues speaking. “Your parents, they were hiding you and keeping you safe, like we told you. That much was the truth. But all those symbols that were found in your house weren’t all done by your parents. The sigils were from both demons and the Watchers, acts of protection against the other. But some had been secretly sewn into your clothes, invisibly painted on the bottoms of your shoes. Your mother was thorough so that you wouldn’t be taken from her.”

Yuta leans his head against the bars, closing his eyes. “Why don’t you just tell her everything, Ten?”

“I will,” Ten shoots back. “I wanted to be honest from the start. You’re the one that fed her fictitious stories on that very first day. And look where we are now because of it! She never would’ve come with us if we’d just told her the whole truth that day! All of this could have been prevented!” 

“Of course she wouldn’t have come with us!” Yuta snaps. “She would’ve thought we were even crazier than she already did if we’d told her the truth!” 

Ten hisses through his teeth. “But then why haven’t you told her anything since then? I wanted to, but you insisted on skipping around, skirting the truth with more lies.” 

They begin bickering back and forth, forgetting that you’re there at all as they snipe at each other. 

Meanwhile, you tune them out to instead mull over what else they’ve been saying. They’ve both lied to you. Apparently from the very start, they’ve been lying. Did they lie about what happened to your parents? About their involvements in your parents' deaths? Or have they lied about something else? You wish everyone would stop talking around the subject, and just get straight to an answer. 

“Hey!” Suddenly, Renjun is standing there in front of the bars. “Stop fighting and just answer her questions! We don’t have long down here before our time is up and the Watchers notice she’s missing, so start talking or we’re just going to leave now.”

If either Yuta or Ten is shocked by the sudden appearance of Renjun, they don’t question it. Instead Yuta slumps against the cell’s bars. Ten clears his throat, looking at you once again. 

“Like I was saying, we lied. There’s a lot we lied about, honestly. I was going to tell you the truth, but Yuta decided to make up a story. He came up with the lie about the demon deal, and I couldn’t contradict him, so I went along with it. You know how lies can be, darling. They snowball, and this one did so rapidly. I tried to tell you the truth, telling you that you were one of us, but Yuta didn’t even want to tell you that you were half-demon. He just wanted to let you believe that you were just the human byproduct of a demon deal to conceive, but that part isn’t even true. All of that was a lie.”

You feel like the ground is rocking beneath you, suddenly unsteady under your feet. You tip your head back against the wall, staring up at the dark stone ceiling of the dungeon. Beside you, Renjun’s back hits the wall, and he slides down to sit on the floor as well. The side of his hand touches yours, and that’s the only thing keeping you feeling even a little bit grounded in reality while the rest of your mind slips far back into the past, to the graveyard on that All Hallows’ Eve night when you first met Ten and Yuta. 

It’s amazing how quickly your memory of that night has blurred. You can remember the rain, remember the horror and terror and panic of two random men approaching you in the dark cemetery and turning your world entirely on its head. But so much of what was said blurs in your memory, though you vaguely recall what now seem to be lies. You replay what you can remember of that night from start to finish. 

Yuta’s voice in the here and now is what pulls you away from your memories. “We didn’t lie about everything. I promise.” And he must mean it because he uses your name, the sound so sincere from his lips. “We were the demons assigned to your case, told to find you and protect you. After your parents died, everyone went looking for you. The protection of your mother had broken, and then when you moved out from beneath that roof, you lost even more protection, and after years, the last of the protections woven into your clothes and on your shoes faded away. That’s when we found you, and we knew that the Watchers were looking for you too.” 

“Hold on,” you cut in, lifting a hand to make Yuta pause in his story. “I’m still stuck on what Ten was saying. The bit about you wanting me to believe that I was a full human born from a demon deal to conceive, and how all of that was a lie. What does that mean?”

Yuta’s eyes burn for a moment. “We weren’t ever supposed to tell you this. It was part of the deal, the accord your mother signed.”

“Well, you broke the accord when you brought me to Hell City, didn’t you?” You fold your arms across your chest. “So what’s really holding you back from telling me more? From telling me the whole truth?”

You’re running out of time and you know it. You can feel the seconds passing with each drip of water in one of the dark corners of this dungeon. And beside you, Renjun keeps alert, glancing upwards every few seconds. 

“I want the whole, entire truth. I’m tired of lies.” A hit of anger simmers in your chest. You love both of the demons imprisoned before you, but the idea that they’ve been lying to you this entire time? You would be crazy to ignore that as a huge issue, but right now you need the whole truth. It’s your life, don’t you deserve to know it?

“Ten, you tell her,” Yuta says, and he leans back, sinking half into shadow. “I don’t think she wants to hear anymore from me.”

That’s not true. You want to hear no more lies, just the solid truth. 

Ten begins, “What I meant when I said that is that all of it is a lie. The demon deal, the conception story, that bit about the Changeling which he just said to get you to stop freaking out, and of course, you being even an ounce human.” A jolt passes through you as you process Ten’s words, but he continues. “Your mother was one of us, a demon. Your father, not the one who raised you, but your true father, was a Watcher.”

Beside you Renjun twitches when you glance at him. The way he’s completely avoiding looking back at you tells you that he knew about this, or at least suspected it. If what Ten is saying is actually true this time, you’re not so different from Renjun. Half-Watcher, half-Other. 

“What you are, darling, it’s never happened before,” Ten says, “Watchers and demons don’t exactly mix well, and your mother and the Watcher who got her pregnant didn’t necessarily mix too well. The sex worked for them, obviously, but everyone in the demon world knows that as soon as your mother realized she was pregnant, she stopped showing up when he summoned her to meet. She wanted nothing more to do with him.”

Ten says all of this plainly, straightforwardly with a level voice that makes you want to believe that this is fact. But still doubt resides in your mind. They’ve lied to you once, why not lie again? And besides, how could your mother be a demon? She raised you in the faith! She took you to Church every weekend and every feast day. She blessed you, she took the Eucharist and dipped her fingers in holy water. You know from the firsthand experience that that isn’t something even a partial demon can do. She’d even taken you on a trip to a monastery, where she’d sat at your side while a monk had blessed and prayed over you. She hadn’t even looked remotely uncomfortable.

But you don’t say anything, and Ten just continues with the story. Your story.

“No one in Hell has ever seen a demon carry the baby of a high and holy Watcher. Of the rare unholy unions between demons and Watchers, never has one produced anything until you. So no one knew what would happen to your mother,” Ten says. “But apparently having the seed of a Watcher, blessed and holy, inside her began to change her. She couldn’t stand being in Hell anymore, Heaven was nowhere within her reach, and she feared hiding away in Purgatory because of what the Watchers might do to her if they discovered her. She landed on Earth on two feet, building a life around her instantly. She met a man, settled down with him, had you.

“It wasn’t much later when the Watchers caught on, but by that point there were already demons watching over you. Both the demons and the Watchers wished to have you under their control. There was clashing, fighting, war almost broke out over your cradle. But your mother met with the High Watcher and with Our Queen of the Night, and together they came up with a peace accord. Your mother signed it. Our Queen of the Night, the ruler of demons, signed it as well. And the High Watcher, as the spokesman for the Watchers, signed it. All three spoke for their separate parties: for you, for the demons, for the Watchers. We told you the truth about this next part. Your mother and her human lover, they were free to raise you in ignorance of who and what you were. You would be safe and protected from our world, that no one could touch you while you were under her protection, while the peace accord remained in place. 

“But your mother didn’t consider the loophole, about what would happen to you after her death, because she didn’t consider that possibility. Demons are immortal unless something particularly fatal occurs, and nothing like that should have ever happened to her. Except that she had a miracle baby, half-demon and half-Watcher, and everyone wanted to get their hands on you.”

Yuta reappears then from the shadows of his cell, his cheek leaning against the bars, his gaze stuck imploringly on yours when he says, “It wasn’t a demon deal that claimed your parents' lives. That was the first and most stupid lie I could think of when I realized Ten was going to tell you the truth. I don’t truly know if it was someone rogue, if it was an assassin dispatched by the High Watcher or one deployed by our Queen of the Night, but someone came for your parents, hoping to hurry along that little loophole in the accord. Without your mother’s protection, you belonged to whoever got you first, and everyone was curious about the kind of powers you would have. Because between your mother, who was quite a powerful demon, and your father being a high-level Watcher, you would have to be extremely powerful.”

“High-level Watchers are basically gods,” Renjun says quietly at your side. “I told you about their endless pursuit for knowledge, and for them knowledge is equal to power. They have their own territories, their own Houses, and they only report to the High Watcher on special occasions. They have powers on tier with the God of the Abrahamic religions, to create, to destroy, to be all-seeing and just about be all-knowing. If your father is one of them, then you being half-demon as well basically means you could possess unheard of powers.”

If that’s true then why didn’t you discover your powers until you came to Hell City? Shouldn’t they have been bursting out of you at random, uncontrollable since you were never taught how to handle them? And then why had it been so difficult for you to even summon a meager flame when Ten and Yuta had tried so hard with you? Why did you often feel so small, so human, so powerless if you were in fact a damned divine being, both holy and unholy?

“Your mother’s protections were more thorough than anyone understood,” Yuta says softly. “She twisted the Watcher’s protections with her own demon powers. She imbibed and strengthened the demon sigils with her blood. She was extremely powerful in her own right, and she cast protections over you herself, secret ones that suppressed your powers. But, in time, everything faded. And when we found you, Ten and I, we knew you’d be better here, with us.”

Ten picks up the story, looking right at you as he says, “The Watchers feared the kind of power you might hold. Half-demon, half-Watcher. A goddess with unknown powers. So when your mother signed the accord, putting it in bloody writing that she would bury and suppress your powers, restrict all of your knowledge of the world that you were born to be a part of, that was it. Official. As long as you remained powerless, kept in the dark about demons and Watchers, werewolves and monsters, living essentially as a human, then you would be untouchable. But we ruined that the first moment I stepped into your life. Yuta and I corrupted the peace accord as soon as we told you what we were, as soon as we invited you to come to Hell City with us, but it was the only way, and we knew it. It was only a matter of time before someone else would find you. Like I said, we were assigned your case by our Queen, so we would protect you, no matter what happened.” Ten sighs, and he stretches his hand out from inside his cell, reaching towards you as he says, “And in protecting you, darling, we found we liked you. A lot.”

Angry and confused, shaken by all of this flipping of your world on its head, you still can’t deny yourself the touch of Ten’s hand. You scoot forward away from the wall, and you clutch Ten’s hand in yours. You lean in to him, letting him bring your joined hands up so he can brush his fingers against your cheek. While you lean into Ten’s touch, Yuta begins speaking again, his voice a little rough and tired, yet still, he speaks. 

“Once we brought you to Hell City, our Queen of the Night demanded reports on your well-being, on your progress of discovering your powers. When I let you go back to Earth, we were punished for the error in judgment, and it was a massive error. People knew about you. Being in Hell City had stripped away the last of your mother’s protections, awakening your powers and bringing forth the demonhood she’d hidden deep inside you. Watchers were watching you again, though they hadn’t been able to see you since you were a baby. Rogue demons who hungered for the power our Queen refused them were hunting for you. Even humans, those who have knowledge of the layers to this reality, the ones who search for knowledge and power and have no limit to what they will do, they too were searching for you. 

“Clearly, letting you go back was a huge mistake. You were being hunted, and now we know that one of those hunters found you.” Hansol. “He found you so quickly, and I guess he was just meant to keep a close watch on you, probably to see what you knew or didn’t know. But with the safety of your mother’s protections stripped away, I doubt he was the only one coming close to you.” And then, begrudgingly, Yuta admits, “Though I suppose we have a little to be grateful to him for. His presence likely acted as protection too. No one would harm you with a Watcher at your side.

“But they were definitely out there, the number of people who knew about the miracle you are, who were searching for you, kept increasing. When we brought you back, it was worse. Our Queen kept sending us away on missions to dispatch those looking for you or who would do you harm in other ways. We knew the Watchers were looking for you again as well. They knew you were with demons, though at the time we weren’t sure how they knew that, but luckily they didn’t have our identities, and they weren’t certain we had you in Hell City.”

“We didn’t know what they would do to you if they found you.” Ten’s voice is soft, ripe with emotion as he continues to hold his hand to your cheek, his eyes on yours through the bars. “That is why, that night when we left you, I sent you away and told you to protect yourself, to let in no one but WinWin or Mark. Because I knew they were the only ones we could trust you to, even though they were in the dark about the risk of it all. They believed what we’d told you, nothing more. They thought you were only half-human, and they knew little to none about Watchers and rogues who would tear you apart for a taste of your powers. We could trust them because they both love you as much as we do.”

That, at least, is a relief in all of this. At least WinWin and Mark haven’t been lying to you too. You’re not sure you could take it. 

You understand, partially, why Yuta and Ten had lied to you. At the time when you first came to Hell City with them, you wouldn’t have believed any of this. You wouldn’t have even understood half of it. Hell, you had struggled to wrap your mind around being half-demon for the longest time, refusing to even attempt to reach for powers until after your return to Hell City, after the nightmare that was being chained up by the pastor. Forget how crazy all of this about Watchers and the true revelation of your parentage sounds now. If they’d mentioned any of this in the cemetery, you would have walked away and written them down in your history as weirdos trying to pull a prank on you.  

But all of this, they’ve done it to protect you. If they’d told you the truth that night, even if you hadn’t gone with them, if you’d believed them to be crazy, a part of you still would have wondered if there was truth in what they said.  You would have let your curiosity get the best of you. Just the mention of things pertaining to werewolves had gotten you to the library in Hell City for research, and if you’d attempted researching the Watchers or hybrid supernatural creatures when you were in the ignorant human world, that surely would have sent up some red flags somewhere in the system, and the Watchers and demons and all the bad would have been on you. 

But, you still wish they would have been more honest. That Yuta and Ten wouldn’t have dug so deep into the lie that they were being almost buried in it now, sitting here in these dungeon cells. And the fact remains that they’d gone through all of this to keep you mostly from the Watchers, and now here you stand, in the heart of the House of the Watchers, unharmed. But they broke the rules, violating the accord by taking you, so of course, the Watchers are seeking retribution.

“We have to go soon,” Renjun whispers from his spot against the wall. “I have a feeling that our time is almost up.” 

You sigh, reluctant to leave. You love them, both of these demons even though they lied to you. Ten’s palm feels warmer as you nuzzle your cheek against it, cradling your hand against the back of his. 

“Do you forgive me?” Yuta asks, and you open your eyes to see him watching, dark sadness glimmering in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have lied, but we couldn’t tell you the whole truth. I’m sorry, my love. I thought we were keeping you safer if you didn’t know. I just wanted to get you to come with us so we could keep you safe. I didn’t expect we’d fall in love with you, or that telling you the truth would be like this.”

“I always imagined we’d tell you the truth over a nice candlelit dinner,” Ten says lightly, “Or maybe in bed when we’ve worn you out to the point that you’re too exhausted to be angry with us for lying. But there’s kinda candles.” He nods at the flickering lights you’d lit on the wall along the dungeon passage. “So this is almost the same, right? A nice, cozy dungeon date? With little to no hope of us getting out of here?”

The reminder of that makes your heart sink to new depths. You reach for Yuta’s hand where it dangles out of his cell. He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, and Ten just cups your cheek in his hand. You need them to make it out of here. You don’t know what happens to them if they make it to the trial and are found guilty for this absolute bullshit crime. Just because they were the first ones to get to you? That’s basically what they’re being charged with, but if the Watchers had found you first, then it’s not very likely that they would stand accused of breaking the accord. 

“Wait. Hold on. Rewind this back a bit.” You sit up straight, looking back and forth between your boyfriends, holding Yuta’s hand on one side and Ten’s hand on the other. “So this whole thing—you being imprisoned by the Watchers and pending a criminal trial—is because I agreed to leave my seemingly human life on earth to come to Hell City with you two?”

Ten nods first, but it is Yuta that speaks up, saying, “Well, yeah. We broke the peace accord.”

But they didn’t. Not really. 

If you consider everything that they’ve said, and if it’s the full truth this time, which you feel like it must be, then they haven’t really done anything wrong at all. 

“But my parents… my mother died. According to what you’ve told me, the peace between the demons and the Watchers was to end after her death, essentially, because I wasn’t under her protection any longer. Like you said, everyone including demons and Watchers were looking for me after they died, but there were still some lingering protections which is why it took you two so long to find me. Right?”

Yuta agrees, his head cocked slightly to the side. 

“But even if you consider the accord still in effect because I was ignorant of this world, how can they really prove that you are the ones that told me about all of this, effectively breaking the last little bit of the rules? How do the Watchers know that I didn’t discover a little of it by myself? Like you said, until the last of the protections wore off after I returned from Hell City, the Watchers hadn’t been able to see me since I was a kid. How do they know I didn’t learn about any of this in the meantime, before I ever met you?”

What are they going to do? Make you swear an oath at this trial? You don’t see the purpose in it, there’s nothing truly holding you to not perjuring yourself. What is there for you to fear about lying under oath here? 

Yuta and Ten both stare at you, and you can feel Renjun’s gaze on the back of your head as well. You squeeze your boyfriends’ hands. “How do they know that I wasn’t aware of my powers before I met you?”

“You can’t lie,” Ten says, his voice scraping against his throat. “You didn’t have access to your power before we teased it out of you. Darling, they know. They’re Watchers. They saw everything after Yuta returned you from Hell City thanks to that dick Hansol. They know about everything with that pastor.”

Renjun’s feet scuff against the floor as he stands, suddenly alert. “We have to go.”

You hold tighter to Ten and Yuta’s hands. “I need a little longer.”

“We don’t have time. The House just shifted again. I can hear them up there. There are a lot of Watchers moving around, they’re searching. We’re already over time. Say your goodbyes. You have one minute.”

Renjun takes off for the stairs at the other end of the level, fading into the shadows. 

You don’t want to leave. You want to implant yourself in the stone right here, to sit with Yuta and Ten until the universe crumbles around you. If you let go now, you’re not sure when or if you’ll ever get to touch them again. 

“You’re crying.” Yuta’s hand pulls away from yours, and his fingertips touch your cheek, wiping away a tear. “Don’t cry for us. We’ll be okay. Like you were just saying, pretty girl, they don’t really have the solid evidence to convict us. We can still get out of this.”

Hot tears drown the sight of the dungeon, the cells, and your two demons. Each of them wipe at your tears, trying to speak lightheartedly and teasing to draw a smile out of you before you have to go. But you can’t smile. You’re sinking into fear and sadness, into the overwhelmingly dark thoughts that this is the last time you’ll get to see them before they sit before the High Watcher. 

“We love you,” Yuta says. “We’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

You’re not sure how he can truly promise that, but he does. When he twists his fingers in your hair and draws you forward, your lips meet his in a brief kiss through the bars of the cell. It’s over too soon, but then you’re moving over to Ten, and it’s deeply uncomfortable to hug someone when there are broad iron bars in between you, and even more awkward to turn that hug into a kiss, but you manage. 

“Stop crying,” Ten teases as he pulls back. “Even if they do find us guilty, at least you’ve still got WinWin and Mark.”

That doesn’t make you feel any better, actually. You push at him through the bars, and Ten laughs, a bright sound that echoes around the dungeon. He holds onto your hand, reeling you back together. Ten rests his forehead against the bar you lean your head against. 

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

You sniffle, and Ten taps his fingertips beneath your chin. “I’m serious about WinWin and Mark. They both love you too. Let them take care of you while we can’t.” His serious expression cracks, taking on a teasing grin and a lilt in his voice when he says, “We’ve been gone from you for long enough that I’m sure you’re horny, and I know you’ve been sad and worried so you won’t have let WinWin do anything more than maybe kiss you.” Yo I hate that he’s completely right; he knows you too well. “And Mark, well, he’s probably still too scared of us and of hurting you to make a move, but maybe you should make the first move.”

“Ten, seriously?” Yuta says from next door. “We’re going to trial to determine life or death, and you’re worried she might be horny?”

Ten shrugs, his smile not quite reaching his eyes when he says, “We’ve all got our priorities, and her feeling good has always been at the top of my list.”

From the dungeon floor above you, you hear Renjun call your name. 

“That’s my time.” You press forward, managing one last fleeting kiss on Ten’s lips. “I love you,” and teasingly you add on, “Maybe I’ll take your advice.” 

Ten snickers as you move away to reach into Yuta’s cell. You tug him as close to the bars as you can, kissing Yuta one more time. 

“I forgive you for lying about all of that. I know you only did it for me.” You sigh the words against his lips. “Thank you, Yuta. For everything, as always. I love you.”

He smiles as you back away, and as you turn to climb the steps of the passage, Yuta calls out after you, saying, “You’re too sad, my love. Maybe you should take Ten’s advice!”

You can’t believe they’re both advising you to go get fucked by their two best friends while they’re still imprisoned. Not that you haven’t thought about it a few times over recent days. But at least the thought is making you laugh and smile instead of just shedding useless tears over the situation. 

You walk away, your heart breaking as you begin to climb. 

Renjun is already ahead of you, waiting partway up the narrow curve of stairs that lead up toward the rest of the House. He stands frozen on the steps, his head cocked in a way that must mean that he’s listening. He holds his hand up as you approach. “Something is wrong.”

The smile that had managed to rise on your lips while thinking about the half-joking parting advice of your boyfriends now fades away. 

Slowly, Renjun turns to face you, and in the flickering candlelight of the tunnel’s lamps, you see his face has fallen pale, his expression tight when he says, “I smell blood.”

<-previous || next–>

a/n: sorry to leave you all on another sudden ending like that, but it just make you more excited for next week’s update, doesn’t it? 

I hope this chapter finally brought some clarity to some questions that you may have had, but I also hope it’s left you with a few more.

Also, if any part of that story doesn’t make sense please let me know because I might need to edit it for clarity lol 

I’m sure it’s no surprise at all when I say thank you so much for reading, and please show this update a little love with likes, reblogs, and comments. Thank you!

[sqtorux]

twisted discipline?

# their reactions when some random guy dares to lay his hand on you in public

## incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji and yuta

+ (replaced sukuna with yuta because we all know kuna would kill the guy on the spot and also bc i love ruthless borderline yandere behind your back yuta <3)

[sugurizz]

(Smut/ NSFW +18 - minors DNI !)

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ── lover boy! Yuuta

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's playing handball with his friends. His soft dark locks and slender body caught your eye; running around shirtless as his tall frame prances around left and right. with his shiny lips curled up in a smile and his bubbly laughs resonating through the breeze.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who gets so shy when he sees that his ball landed next to you; the cute girl he's been eyeing up throughout the whole game. your sparkly asscheeks barely covered in your bikini strings and your breasts flushed against the warm sand really sent his brain spiralling.

He shyly grabs the ball as he approaches you, asks you if you'd care to join in. Then he furiously blushes when you redirect the question at him "Why don't you come chill under my parasol instead?"

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's hoping your parasol is large enough to cover up on both of you. you're straddeling his lap, messing up his hair and telling him that "he's the cutest boy you saw in the whole beach" as you plant kisses everywhere on his cheeks, chest, neck and lips. You giggle at every flustered whine he lets, until he grabs your hand, asking you to follow him...

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's eating your ass in his little cabin, smothering his face in your tender skin and drowning himself in the milky scent of your pussy. his blushy cheeks, cute eyebags and adorable noises make your pussy wetter for him.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who (un)surprisingly under his cute aura and puppy eyes hides the thickest cock that dangles alongside his left thigh..

"Oh, sorry...is it too b-big?" he mumbles when you tug down on his boxers, his veiny length springs free, almost slaps your cheek as it stands proud against his stomach.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now humping you like a bunny in heat. heavy breathes and frustrated sighs escape his pretty lips. face is still soaked in your sweet juices but he could care less..

"You sure you can take me?...don't wanna see you in pain".

"I'd die for your big cock, handsome angel." you whisper, grabbing his mushroon tip and smearing it across your pussy lips.

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's now into demon mode, the sweetness and shyness are long gone with his schlong bullying your pussy senseless. He groans over and over in your ear "you'll be my cute girlfriend...we'll feel good together..every day..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who watches you with blown dark pupils as you squirt all over his stomach, fevereshly crying out a "Yess daddy.. I'm all yours! Make me yours!.."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's so embarassed to see his thick cum spurt uncontrollably out his tip because of how hard you squirted on him.

"Sorry, I cum a lot...I'll bring a-"

He stares at you as you collect the ropes of seed he freshly spurted on your breasts, slowly lift your fingers then smear them on your tongue as you lock eyes with him.

"Come kiss me, Yuuta..."

Beach Boy! Yuuta who's shamelessly snowballing with you, making the loudest sloppiest sounds with his own cum bubbling on both your lips and dribbling down your chins. "One more round, angel boy?" You smirk as he struggles to hide his cute boner again...

[viasdreams]

🎀𓂃 ࣪˖

nct 127 boyfriend texts !!

a/n: happy belated 127 day!! dont look at the header for too long plz😬

[heyimkana]

Currently thinking about... how break-up sex would go with JJK men...

Like what if, even though you're both so in love with each other, the situation you're in right now forces you to break up with them. They'll try to fight about it, of course, you're crazy about each other, after all. But you insist on breaking up, even going as far as to tell them that you don't love them anymore just so they'll believe you. And before you say goodbye, you ask them to hold you one last time.

Satoru would be quiet. Sex was always fun with him. rough, fast, exhausting, but never boring. Sex with him was always filled with laughter, giggles, and playful kisses that would end with gasps and moans but your last time with him would be quiet. So quiet, in fact, that you could probably hear the sound of him gritting his teeth while he was fucking you from behind, all because he was trying to stop himself from saying, "This is a joke. This must be a joke. We play tricks on each other all the time. You're just trying to get back at me, aren't you, baby? There's no way you don't love me anymore. But even if you do, I don't care. I had let someone go a long time ago and I'd spent years of my life regretting it. I'm not letting you go, not now, not ever. You're staying. No, I'll make you stay." He wouldn't look at you when he fucked you, not once, as he was actually scared that you truly hated him then. But it wouldn't matter if you did. He was never going to let you go.

Suguru would listen with his stoic face intact when you told him that you wanted to break up with him. And softly, he'd ask you why, and you'd lie and tell him that you just didn't love him anymore and his eyes would turn cold as he looked at you, trying to read between your lies and you were scared that he'd know the truth. And if you told him that you wanted him to hold you one last time, he would smile and say, "Sure." but it felt so eerie that you had goosebumps breaking on your skin. Suguru would drag you out of the bed, tear open your dress and his grip was hard enough to leave bruises on your skin but he would still be smiling, even when you flinched in pain. "You like it better like this anyway, right?" he'd say as he fucked you standing up from behind with his fingers wrapped around your neck. He'd have you stand in front of a mirror, making sure to see the pathetic face you made every time he fucked you stupid. He'd show you that you were his in every way possible, making sure you understand that you were going to fucking regret it if you decided to leave him.

Yuuji would be so confused. He'd be confused when you kissed him after you said you didn't love him anymore. He'd be confused when you still hugged him afterward, and kissed his neck, and tugged onto his shirt before you pulled it over his head. He'd be confused when you asked him to hold you one last time, and he wouldn't say anything when you pushed him down to the bed. It was only when you sat on his lap, trying to slide his cock inside that he'd stop you. "No, wait, I can't do it," he would say, unable to look at you because suddenly, tears started to brim in his eyes. "If you're going to leave me after we're done, I can't do it. I love you. I don't know why you suddenly changed your mind about me, but I'm still in love with you and I don't think I can love anyone else but you. You'll break me if you do this, so please..." His voice would break and he would hug you close, his chin placed on your shoulder, his voice, sketched with the tears he was trying to hold back, reverberating right in your ear. "Please stop and tell me. I'm an idiot so I'm very slow at figuring things out and I don't know if I hurt you and I'm sorry but... I want to understand... Why...? Why are you leaving me? Am I... not enough for you?"

Megumi would not do it. He wouldn't kiss you. He wouldn't touch you. He'd only clench his jaw and ball his fingers into fists the second the words "I don't love you anymore" flowed past your lips. And when you tried to kiss him, he'd take a step back, his voice deep when he asked you, "Have I done something wrong?" You'd shake your head no, saying "It's not because of you, Megumi. It's me—" and he'd cut you off with a "Don't give me that bullshit." He'd raise his voice, but only because he was shaking inside. "If that's true, then tell me what it is! Whatever you did, I'll forgive you. If it's a part of you that you think is the problem, I'll accept it. If it's the situation we're in, let me know so I can fix it. Don't just show up and tell me you don't love me anymore, don't—" he took a breath, his voice breaking at the end. His face would twist in heartbreak when he finally gathered the strength to look at you in the eyes. His voice would soften when he continued, "Don't tell me you're leaving me. Please."

Yuuta would feel a thousand emotions at once. For the first few minutes when you told him you didn't love him anymore, he'd keep asking you, "Why? Was it something I said? What did I do wrong? How can I make this right? Please. Tell me. Tell me so I can fix everything." And you'd see tears glazing his eyes and he would look so frightened, so heartbroken, unable to believe that the love of his life was slipping out of his fingers. When you told him, "It doesn't matter, Yuu. I just can't do this anymore." Yuuta would panic, colors leaving his face and he'd start begging, "No, please, you can't leave me. I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my everything, please don't do this to me, please tell me how to make things right," and it was breaking your heart seeing him like this so you'd try to distract him by kissing him.

He'd whimper against your mouth, cupping your face with both hands, still whispering, "Don't leave me" again and again. He'd slowly regain his composure, his body melting under your kiss and when you started touching him, he'd respond with as much passion, love, and desire as he usually offered you, not knowing that it was going to be his last time with you. It was only when he was holding you in his arms, your legs tangled around his waist, his mouth slicked with your cum, his hips thrusting slow but deep, that you told him the truth, "This is going to be our last time."

Yuuta would freeze, his eyes turning round in both surprise and horror, but after that... You'd find your body folded in half, your head trapped between your knees, your jaw hanging low on your face, unable to even scream his name as he was fucking the breath out of you. His usually delicate moans would turn into heavy grunts, and he'd bunch the sheets under his fingers before he grabbed your wrists and pinned them to the bed, holding them with one hand as he used his other one to grip firmly onto the back of your thigh, pushing you up even further so he could bury himself deep inside you.

"You're not leaving me," he'd breathe out. "I won't let you. We promised each other we'd be together until we die. I won't let you break it." He'd kiss you, rough and messy, smothering you with it. He'd see a hint of fear written in your eyes, maybe you'd even cry a little from how rough he was being with you, but he'd kiss the tears away, his smile looking both beautiful and terrifying when he said, "Don't worry, Sweetheart. There's nothing to be afraid of. No one will love you better than me, I promise you. And if anyone dares to come between us," he'd angle your face to the side, lick a stripe up your neck before he let his smile graze your ear.

"I'll fucking kill them."

[hinamie]

hi!! I love your art and the jjk atla au has grabbed my brain in Ways That I Cannot Explain. i love them sm. also ty for the inuokko promise, bc trust they are my favorite ship ever (sorry itafushi, you guys are second place). i wish you well in the process and hope that everything goes smoothly for you!!!!

!!! thank u so much I'm happy u like my art and our little passion project <3 <3 <3

also. hm . inuokko u say :>

pov u look up and u see this ^

jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[niki-phoria]

떠오른 달 그 위로 / 이 밤을 날아 crazy over you

megumi, yuuji, yuuta, and toge boyfriend headcannons!

notes: gn!reader (no pronouns specified), 400ish words each, part two of my ramblings with @ffinnamon, this is not proofread please forgive any mistakes lmao, 圣诞快乐！happy holidays everyone :)), title from enhypen - moonstruck

━━ boyfriend!megumi who doesn’t confess to you - gojo does. it only takes one offhand comment from your teacher as he scrolls through his phone, snickering to himself when you begin sprinting towards the dorms

━━ boyfriend!megumi who smiles softly when you confess. your words jumble together as you rush to tell him that you like him too. you only stop when he softly chuckles, quietly reminding you to calm down and take a breath. he hopes that his flushed cheeks don’t look as red as they feel as he clings to the remains of his nonchalant reputation

━━ boyfriend!megumi who always carries a digital camera in his pocket. you rarely notice, but he pulls it out at random, taking a few moments to snap candid photos of his favourite moments: when you kneel down to pet a stray cat wandering through the streets of kyoto; how bright your smile is when you beat yuuji in a sparring match; snowflakes decorate your hair on winter days when you drag him outside for a walk despite the cold

━━ boyfriend!megumi who kisses you first. it’s another moment where your beauty shines through despite the world around you. he’s always worried - always on alert for another curse or waiting for a sign of danger. but your touch sends shivers racing down his spine. your smile is outshines the sun. and when your lips meet his own, the weight of the world doesn’t feel so heavy anymore

━━ boyfriend!megumi whose friends are constantly teasing him. yuuji has enough grace to bite his tongue when he realizes the implication of his words, but nobara kicks him beneath the table when he rolls his eyes, swearing, “we’re just trying to help!”

━━ boyfriend!megumi who lets you take care of him. he sighs as you tuck the blankets snugly around his body, forcing him to lay down and stay in his dorm. he swears your fussing is annoying, but you meet no resistance when you force him to lay down, complete with a new box of tissues and a full water bottle by his side. “get some rest, megumi,” you say as you tug his curtains closed. “you can’t exercise any curses unless you’re feeling healthy”

━━ boyfriend!megumi who opens up to you. his shoulder just barely brushes against yours as he moves to sit beside you. he doesn’t move away when you reach over, gingerly taking his hand into your own. your fingertips stroke against the bruises decorating his knuckles when he quietly speaks. “i had a sister,” he begins. “her name was tsumiki”

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who doesn’t have any experience with dating and never wanted to. he had never paid attention to gossip from his peers. he lives life in the moment, too caught up with the experiences of right now to worry about labels

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who sheepishly smiles when you ask him what your relationship status is. he casually shrugs as he turns to face you, washing your worries away easily. “honestly i’m not sure.” he shoves his hands into his pockets. “but i like you. a lot”

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who loves to watch movies with you. he curls up against your side, his arm thrown lazily around your waist and his legs half entangled with yours. he smiles brightly when he leans upwards just enough to press a chaste kiss against the skin of your cheek. “i bet you’ll love this one,” he says

━━ boyfriend!yuuji whose dates are almost always impulsive. he’s never been good at planning. outings consist of him excitedly tugging on your wrist as he leads you in the direction of a new sushi restaurant he hadn’t noticed before or closing his eyes and pointing to a poster to pick which movie you’ll watch

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who kisses you first. his hands clumsily rest on your shoulders, awkwardly holding you close. his lips feel chapped against your own. the kiss itself is short and a little messy. admittedly, he’s never done this before. but he makes up for it when he leans in again, this time slower, and all but melts into the comforting feeling of your touch

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who acts impulsively. he charges headfirst into danger with no regard for personal safety, focused only on saving everyone around him. his hands are littered in bruises and his uniform is soaked in blood, but none of that matters when he’s standing in front of you, still breathing. “i’m sorry,” he whispers. “i’ll be more careful. i promise”

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who brings you to his grandfather’s grave. the soles of your shoes sink into the muddy earth. you silently watch as he carefully places a small bouquet of flowers beside the headstone, whispering a few words beneath his breath

━━ boyfriend!yuuji who snores. loudly. it’s almost impossible to sleep beside him because he’s so loud. his body sprawls across the provided twin sized mattress like a starfish; his legs threaten to fall off of the bed. you chuckle softly at the sight as you lean down. he doesn’t even stir when you brush a few stray strands of hair away from his face. “good night, yuuji”

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who is oblivious to his feelings at first. he annoys all his friends with his rambling about you and your small habits. toge sighs when he derails the walk home to buy a keychain for a movie you like or to buy you a snack from a nearby vending machine. despite everything, he doesn’t realize how deep his feelings really are until maki swats at his shoulder, huffing as she rolls her eyes. “you have a crush, dumbass”

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who confesses with a bouquet of flowers and a sweet love letter. he anxiously fidgets with his hands as you accept the gift, waiting with his heart in his throat and butterflies in his stomach as he waits for your reaction. life seems to pause until you pull him into a tight hug, whispering a soft, “i’d love to go on a date with you”

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who refuses to let you walk home alone. he intertwines his fingers with your own as you move side-by-side down the small sidewalk. your quiet reassurances that he doesn’t have to join you all the way home are silenced when he gives your hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “but i want to,” he smiles

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who calls you everyday when he’s away. even if he has to wake up in the middle of the night, he makes sure you both talk at least once a day. your conversations can last for hours as you talk about anything that comes to mind

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who is constantly worried about your well-being. he constantly fusses over you: he all but forces a pair of thick wool gloves over your hands in the winter; he insists you visit shoko after every mission; at even the smallest signs you’re catching a cold he begs gojo to cancel your missions and makes you soup

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who wants to kiss you so badly but always chickens out at the last second. it’s embarrassing, really, how he gets so nervous around you. his face flushes a deep shade of red and his hands shake at his sides as he curls his fingers into fists in the hopes that you won’t notice his nerves

━━ boyfriend!yuuta who clings to you every time you kiss him. his hands rest gingerly against your cheeks or fist tightly into the fabric of your sweater - anything to keep you close to him. his eyes flutter shut as he melts into you; he’s never the first to pull away

━━ boyfriend!toge who confesses with a handwritten note and a bag of your favourite snacks. he awkwardly stares at the dirt covering his shoes as you read it. his handwriting is a little messy and the ink is smudged in a few places, but you accept it with a bright smile nonetheless

━━ boyfriend!toge who laughs loudly when you kiss him for the first time. his face brightens in an undeniable blush as he pulls you into a tight hug. he presses another kiss against your cheek and hides his face in the crook of your neck. he never mentions it, but there’s a big smile on his face for the rest of the day

━━ boyfriend!toge who is a little insecure about his speech. it’s not easy just being able to communicate in origini ingredients. but you always notice when he falls more silent than usual and make sure to ease his worries as much as you can

━━ boyfriend!toge who shows his affection through quality time. during your lunch breaks or down time he’ll occasionally move to sit beside you. his shoulder just barely brushes against your own as he silently watches you gossip with maki or yell out words of encouragement that make megumi scoff

━━ boyfriend!toge who smiles the brightest you have ever seen when you hesitantly show him the first sentences you had learned in sign language. his face flushes almost immediately; blood spreads across his cheeks and ears, painting his features a soft shade of pink

━━ boyfriend!toge who only exposes his face around you. your fingertips gently trace against the deep indents on his skin. his eyes flutter shut and a soft sigh escapes him as he leans further into your touch

━━ boyfriend!toge who hates when you go on missions. his hands gently grip onto your wrist as he pulls you into a tight hug. he leans his head into the crook of your neck, peppering faint kisses against any skin he can reach. he stares into your eyes when he finally pulls away, doing his best as he silently reminds you to be safe

━━ boyfriend!toge who teaches you how to play his favourite video games. he sits behind you with his arms wrapped gingerly around your waist, guiding your hands on the controller or showing you which route to take. sometimes yuuta or yuuji will join and the night will end with all of you asleep in a pile on the couch

━━ boyfriend!toge who hates waking up in the morning. his arms snake around your waist, pulling you back towards your bed as he curls his body against you. he blinks up at you with tired eyes, whispering a quiet “fish flakes”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @ffinnamon @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or reblogging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[cumironi]

Yuta and a 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 reader who has a habit of making nsfw jokes at any given time..?

SUPER FREAKY GIRL: YUTA OKKOTSU

yuta okkotsu loves having you as his girlfriend, but there is nothing that would prepare yuta from this side of you— making everything sensual; you just love having your shy boyfriend flustered and blushing, just overall giving him a hard time. . . and a boner.

w/c: 5.7k

warning : lots and lots of suggestive conversation, fluff.

𝜗𝜚 . . . i'm having too much fun writing this one because yuuta is one of my favorites jjk's character.

yuuta okkotsu is head over heels for you. as your boyfriend, he treasures the moments you share and finds immense joy in every little aspect of your relationship. he loves the way you look at him, how you laugh at his jokes, and the tenderness of your touch. however, there's a unique side to your dynamic that always keeps him on his toes and completely off guard.

you have an incredible talent for dropping cheeky, flirtatious comments at the most unexpected moments. whether you're out with friends, in a casual setting, or sharing a quiet evening alone, you never miss an opportunity to tease him with your playful remarks. it doesn't matter if you're surrounded by people or if it's just the two of you—your provocative comments come effortlessly, catching him by surprise every single time.

yuuta finds himself blushing and stumbling over his words, his usually composed demeanor melting away under your mischievous influence. the way you playfully provoke him, turning his calm and collected nature into a flustered mess, is something he can't quite get used to, even though he adores it. your comments add a layer of excitement and unpredictability to your relationship, making every interaction with you both exhilarating and endearing. It’s a playful dance that keeps your connection vibrant and full of sparks, and yuuta wouldn’t have it any other way.

just like that moment, you and yuuta were deep into your combat training at the usual training ground, along with your friends. as you both took a brief pause to catch your breath, you decided to lighten the mood with a flirty comment.

with a playful smirk, you said, “you know, yuuta, if you keep dodging my attacks like that, i might just have to find another way to catch your attention. should i flash you some tits?”

yuuta, slightly flustered and caught off guard, tried to maintain his composure but ended up stumbling over his own feet, falling to the ground with a surprised laugh. his cheeks flushed a soft pink as he looked up at you, his usual calm demeanor giving way to a charmingly embarrassed smile.

yuuta's reaction was absolutely adorable, and you couldn't help but feel a hint of satisfaction that you'd managed to break through his otherwise calm demeanor. he chuckled softly as he attempted to pick himself up from the ground, still wearing that endearing blush on his face.

“that's— ah. . .”

his voice was shaky, a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure, but it was clear that your words had made his heart skip a beat or two.

“i-i wouldn't... mind— uh. . .”

and don't forget the other day when you and yuuta were hanging out with friends in inumaki’s room, the group chatting and laughing together. yuuta was seated on the floor beside you, comfortably leaning against the wall as he engaged in conversation with his friends. you, sitting next to him, were enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and the easy camaraderie.

as the conversation flowed around you, you decided to add a bit of playful mischief to the mix. without drawing attention, you let your hand slide down and gently squeeze yuuta's thigh. his eyes widened slightly, and he momentarily faltered in his conversation, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink.

yuuta tried to maintain his composure, but the warmth of your touch and the unexpected squeeze made him shift uncomfortably. his friends, too engrossed in their discussions, didn’t notice the subtle exchange. you couldn't help but smile at his reaction, enjoying the way your simple gesture made him blush and fidget while trying to keep up with the conversation.

when your friends don't notice, you lean closer, “have you been working out with gojo, babe?” you smile at him, your sweet, sweet, innocent smile. “it feels like your thighs have gotten more muscle than before,” you give his thigh another squeeze. “can i make a mess on your thigh?” you whisper in his ear, slightly giving it a kiss.

you and your dirty jokes. . .

you were spending a cozy evening in yuuta okkotsu’s dorm room. the room was softly lit, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. you were lying on your stomach on his bed, deeply focused on your lego puzzle as you assembled the pieces with meticulous care. meanwhile, yuuta sat on the sofa near the bed, engrossed in a book, his gentle presence adding to the comfort of the night.

every now and then, you glanced over at yuuta, admiring the way he seemed completely absorbed in his reading, his eyes scanning the pages with a look of serene concentration. the quiet of the room was punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages and the occasional click of lego pieces snapping into place.

you couldn’t resist taking advantage of the peaceful moment to tease him a little. with a playful smirk, you glanced up and called out, “babe, do you have a driver's license?” you ask him. yuuta looked up from his book, a hint of surprise on his face at the unexpected question. he blinked a few times, considering the question before replying.

“a... driver's license? yeah, i do. i got it a year ago. why do you ask?” his expression was equal parts confusion and curiosity, and he marked his page before fully turning his attention towards you. the lamplight cast a soft glow over his features, making his dark eyes seem even more intense as he looked at you, waiting for your response.

you smile, looking over your shoulder to look at your boyfriend, “do you think i need a driver's license, too, to ride you?” yuuta's face instantly turns a deep shade of scarlet, and he splutters wordlessly, clearly caught off guard by your suggestive comment. his heart rate quickens, and it's clear that your words have had quite the effect on him.

he swallows hard, attempting to regain his composure as he struggles to find a suitable response to your question. after a moment, he manages to blurt out a response, his voice shaky and his eyes wide with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

“y-you— uh, i mean, n-no, you don't. . .”

his cheeks were flushed, and he shifted nervously on the sofa, his heart still racing from your playful comment. he couldn't help but feel flustered by your boldness, but at the same time, he found your confidence and assertiveness incredibly attractive. clearing his throat, he tried to respond in a more composed manner, attempting to hide the effect your words had on him.

“no, baby... y-you don't need a d-driver's license to...” he stumbled over his words, unable to finish the sentence as his mind wandered to the possible implications. yuuta's brain is short-circuited, his thoughts overwhelmed by the sudden fantasy that had filled his mind. he flushed an even deeper shade of red, his eyes widening in surprise as his imagination ran wild for a moment. he clenched his jaw, trying to compose himself, but he couldn't shake off the effect your words had on him.

he swallowed hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the sofa as he tried to collect his thoughts. “baby, that's... um... t-that's not fair...” he groaned, almost whining.

you chuckled, amused by how easily your boyfriend became a blushing mess. you push yourself away from the comfort of his bed to walk over him. instinctively, yuuta opens his arms, gladly and warmly welcoming you to his lap.

“what's not fair? i'm just asking you a question,” you look down at him. yuuta's arms automatically wrap around you as you settle in his lap, pulling you closer to him. the warmth of his embrace provides a sense of comfort and intimacy, and he gazes up at you with a mix of slight embarrassment and affection.

“you know what's not fair,” he mutters, his voice still faintly hoarse from the earlier flustered response. he lets out a soft chuckle, his cheeks still tinged with a hint of pink. his eyes fix on yours, a slight pout on his lips as he pretends to be indignant.

“you're playing with my heart,” yuuta leaned back into the sofa, pulling you even closer against his chest as he continued to pout slightly. despite his feigned indignation, there was a hint of playfulness in his eyes, a glimmer of enjoyment in the way he reacted to your teasing.

his arms wrapped around your waist, his touch firm and warm. he could feel your body pressed against him, and the closeness only heightened the intimacy between you. his heart raced in his chest, the sound of it like a gentle thrum against your skin.

“you're being mean,” he accused, his voice soft and somewhat teasing. yuuta's grip on your waist tightened slightly, the playful pout still on his lips. he looked up at you with the cutest puppy dog eyes, his face the picture of exaggerated disappointment, but there was a hint of mischief behind his gaze.

he let out a soft sigh, his voice a playful grumble as he continued his act of indignation. “you're toying with my emotions... it's not fair. i can't handle it when you say things like that.”

yuuta's eyes never left yours, holding your gaze with a mixture of playful affection and mock frustration. he maintained his pout, his lips pressed together in a fake frown as he continued to grumble about your behavior.

he shifted slightly underneath you, causing your hips to press against his crotch, eliciting a sharp inhale from him as he seemed to be struggling to keep up with the charade. his hands moved to grip your hips, his fingers pressing gently into your skin as if to silently urge you to stop teasing him. “i'm sorry baby, didn't mean to,” you murmur, voice so low yuuta is afraid it reaches his crotch, especially with that little smile of yours. but knowing your nature, he knows you didn't feel sorry at all, not even a wee.

yuuta swallows hard, your sultry voice sending a shiver down his spine and straight to his core. despite your mock apology, he can tell from the look in your eyes that you're not even remotely sorry at all. he takes a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as your words and your body pressed against him have an undeniable effect on him. but he plays along, feigning a pout as he speaks in a slightly breathless voice.

“you're not sorry. you're a tease.”

yuuta's words were barely a murmur as he struggled to rein in the desires growing within him. he shifted slightly, his grip on your hips becoming more firm. his body tensed beneath you, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to maintain his composure. yet, despite his attempts to keep his cool, he couldn't help but find your teasing behavior incredibly tantalizing. the way you made his body respond so intensely to your every word and touch was both maddening and irresistible.

“no, i mean it, i'm really sorry,” you again, murmur softly. your hands are moving around, caressing yuuta's bare chest. now he kind of regrets wearing nothing but a black boxer when you are around.

yuuta's breath hitches as your fingers caress his bare chest, the sensation sending a rush of heat through his body. he bites his lip, trying to maintain his composure as your touch ignites a fire within him. he knows he's fighting a losing battle, but he still tries to keep up his act of feigned disappointment.

“you— ah. . . you really don't seem like you're sorry,” he replies as softly as he can, his voice sounding a little more huskier than usual. you laugh a little before shaking your head, “no, not at all.” slowly you move your hips— your palm puts pressure on his chest.

yuuta's eyes widen slightly as you move your hips, your touch causing a sharp intake of breath to escape from his lips. the pressure of your palm on his chest combined with your seductive movements makes his heart race even faster, his chest rising and falling more rapidly as his restraint begins to falter.

“you... tease,” he whispers under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and undeniable desire. his hands grip your hips a bit tighter as he struggles to keep control of his own body's reactions. yuuta's body trembles involuntarily as you move against him, the friction between your bodies causing him to bite back a moan.

his eyes are fixed on yours, his expression now a mix of pleading and arousal. he wants you, desperately, but he knows you're enjoying this little game of tease and denial. he swallows hard, his voice strained as he speaks. “you, you're driving me crazy teasing me like this.”

suddenly, you stop moving, and he looks at you confused, eyebrows knitting together the moment his body is covered with cold nothing.

“i'm hungry,” you said. getting up from his lap and walking over to your phone. yuuta was too stunned to speak, he looked at you with eyes wide open, having his brain working twice as hard to process what the fuck is just happened— you standing near his bed with nothing but his navy blue shirt.

yuuta was left speechless, his body cold and abandoned as you abruptly got up from his lap. he sat frozen, watching you as you stood near the bed. his mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions; frustration, confusion, and undeniable arousal. he felt vulnerable and exposed, his body still tingling from your touch, yet now left with nothing to relieve the tension.

“hungry?? seriously?”

yuuta’s voice was a bit strained, a mix of annoyance and disbelief. here he was, sitting there half-naked and flustered because of your actions, and all you could say was that you were hungry.

he ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts and regain his composure, but it was difficult to do so while feeling so exposed and wanting nothing more than to have you back on his lap.

“you… you can’t just leave me like this and then say you’re hungry…” he wanted to protest, to pull you back to where you belong and demand that you finish what you started. but he also knew you well enough to know that your teasing could continue for much longer if he didn't tread carefully. you turn your head, masking a confused look, purposely acting oblivious to make your boyfriend frustrated; it works. “like what?” you ask, “i can't eat now?” you added.

yuuta's frustration grew as you played oblivious, pretending to be completely unaware of the effect you had on him. his jaw clenched, and he let out a small, frustrated noise as he tried to find the right words to respond. he knew you were enjoying this, reveling in his growing frustration.

“no... you can eat later— i…”

he swallowed hard, his mind filled with images of you on top of him, your hands running all over his body. but he quickly shook his head, trying to snap out of his fantasies and focus on the current moment. you groan a little, pretend to be a little annoyed, “but baby, i'm hungry. . .” you look at him while pouting. you again, walk over and stand before him— making him eye-level with your bare thigh. your eyes focusing on your screen, scrolling through a bunch of restaurants and ready to order some food.

yuuta's breath catches in his throat as you step close to him again, his eyes fixated on your bare thigh right in front of him. his hands clench at his sides as he struggles to keep himself from reaching out and pulling you onto his lap.

he takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts and find some semblance of control, but the sight of you in that position makes it increasingly difficult. he can feel the tension and desire rising within him, and he knows you're just stoking the flames even higher.

“babe. . . we can order later.”

yuuta's voice is low and strained as he speaks. his gaze is fixed on your legs, the temptation to reach out and run his hands up your thighs almost unbearable. his heart is racing, and he's struggling to keep his thoughts from spiraling out of control.

leaning forward slightly, he looks up at you, his eyes pleading and filled with a mixture of lust and frustration, “can't we... can't we do something else first, please...?”

yuuta's gentle and desperate comment seemed to fall on deaf ears as you continued to focus intently on your phone, scrolling through various food options. absorbed in your thoughts, you muttered aloud about your cravings.

“hmm, what should we have for dinner tonight?” you pondered, your eyes glued to the screen. “i’m really craving some chicken. it sounds so good right now. what about you, babe? any particular food you’re in the mood for?” you didn’t even bother to look up, lost in your own world of food choices. yuuta’s dark blue eyes followed you with a frustrated face.

yuuta groaned internally as you continued to obliviously scroll through your phone and discuss dinner options. he knew you were teasing him, prolonging his suffering by pretending not to notice his growing desperation. his eyes darkened as he watched you, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment of this maddening game.

he bit his lip, trying to rein in his frustration and maintain his composure, but it was a losing battle. he wanted you, wanted you badly, and you seemed determined to keep him in this state of agonizing limbo.

“babe, please. . . i don't care about dinner right now,” his voice was strained, a mixture of frustration and desire as he pleaded with you to stop this maddening game. his hands gripped the edge of the sofa, knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to snatch your phone away and show you exactly what he wanted.

“i just want you, i need you... please. can we do something else first?” he couldn’t hide the pleading tone in his voice, the words coming out almost like a desperate whimper. yuuta's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response, his eyes fixed on you, silently begging you to put down the phone and give him the attention he so desperately craved.

he could feel the tension in the air, the palpable sexual energy between you both, and he knew that you were fully aware of the effect you had on him. but you continued to act nonchalant, driving him to the edge of his patience. he swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke again.

“babe... please...”

“later baby,” you mumble while your eyes are still on your phone, you touching his cheek for a second before walking away to sit on his bed. yuuta's heart sank as you dismissed him, your careless words and brief touch doing nothing to quell the fire burning within him.

he watched in disappointment as you walked away and sat on the bed, a small part of him hoping that you were just trying to build up the tension, but the logical part of his brain knew that you were actually serious about waiting.

he let out a frustrated sigh, his body still aching with desire as he tried to accept that he would have to wait a while longer for the release he craved.

“later? great...”

yuuta leaned back on the sofa, feeling defeated and frustrated by your lack of attention. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and push aside the growing disappointment and lust coursing through his body. it was difficult, knowing that the object of his desire was right there, casually scrolling through the phone while he stewed in his own frustration.

he fidgeted on the sofa, shifting his weight and trying to find a comfortable position while he waited for you to finish your phone business so that you could finally give him the attention he craved so badly. yuuta's mind is raced, filled with a mix of emotions and thoughts. he couldn't understand how you could be so unaffected by the tension and desire that was palpable between you both.

as he sat there waiting, he began to imagine different scenarios in his mind. scenarios where you suddenly set your phone down and pounced on him, giving him the release he so desperately needed. but he knew that was unrealistic, and it only served to frustrate him further.

“done!” you declared with a sense of satisfaction as you tossed your phone onto his bed. finally, you turned to yuuta, giving him a sweet, reassuring smile. with a playful bounce in your step, you pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to him, making him think that you were ready to spend some quality time together.

however, his hopeful anticipation quickly turned to confusion as you walked right past him and headed towards the fridge. opening the door, you bent over to peer inside, scanning the contents with focused determination.

“yuuta, baby,” you called out, “do you still have that vanilla ice cream? i’ve been craving it all day!” your tone was light and cheerful, clearly more interested in satisfying your sweet tooth than in the cozy moment he had hoped for. yuuta's face fell as he watched you walk past him without even acknowledging his desperate need for your attention. his heart sank as you bent over and started rummaging through the fridge, your focus completely on your craving for ice cream.

he couldn’t believe how easily you seemed to forget about his frustration and desire, as if they were completely insignificant compared to your hunger for sweets. he frowned as he spoke, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

“mmm, yeah, it’s still in there…”

after a thorough search through the fridge, you finally spotted the vanilla ice cream tucked in the back. with a satisfied grin, you pulled it out and made your way back to yuuta. you plopped down beside him on the sofa, the ice cream container now in your hands.

without giving yuuta much attention, you set the ice cream on the coffee table and reach for the remote. you turned on the tv, casually flipping through channels as you settled into a comfortable position beside him. you pull the shirt up to your chest, showing yuuta your matching black underwear. the evening’s cozy atmosphere resumed as you started to focus on the show, your attention now firmly on the screen and the ice cream in your hand.

yuuta watched with a mixture of disbelief and frustration as you sat down next to him, completely oblivious to the needs he had been shamelessly expressing just moments ago. he couldn’t believe that you were actually more interested in watching tv and eating ice cream than paying any attention to him.

“what are you doing?” he asked in disbelief. his eyes couldn’t help but roam over your body as you pulled the shirt up and revealed your matching underwear. his body involuntarily reacted to the sight, but it only frustrated him even more, knowing that you had no intentions of satisfying his desires.

you turn your head to him, a confused look coloring your pretty face with a pair of your eyebrows arch, “what? i didn't want the ice cream to get to your shirt,” you tell the boy before turning your attention back to the tv.

yuuta let out a small, scoffing laugh at your nonchalant response. he couldn't believe that you were even more concerned about getting ice cream on his shirt than you were about his obvious frustration and need.

“oh, thanks for that,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes. “i really appreciate you looking out for my shirt, but i think i was hoping for your attention on something else…” you just nodded, clearly not really paying attention to whatever he just said.

yuuta gritted his teeth, feeling increasingly frustrated and ignored. he watched as you continued eating your ice cream and watching tv, as if he wasn’t even there. he could feel the heat rising in his body, a mixture of anger and arousal that he couldn’t seem to control.

he shifted on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable, but the friction between his body and the fabric only made his frustration grow even more. he clenched his fists and tried to speak calmly, despite the frustration threatening to boil over.

“love... can we talk for a minute?”

“hm?” you hummed softly.

you turn your head to him— eyebrows arching for the second time. he watches how you lick your ice cream, starting from the bottom, and dragging your tongue to the top before putting the ice cream full inside your mouth.

yuuta couldn't believe how completely innocent and oblivious you were acting as you licked your ice cream in that incredibly seductive manner. it was driving him insane, his body responding with desperate need even though he was angry at your indifference.

“can you... can you stop doing that for a minute?“ he tried to keep his voice steady, failing to conceal the desire lacing his words. “i need to talk to you about something... it's important.” your side lips irk, like you're mocking him, “what? you wish it was your dick, huh?”

yuuta's face flushed red at your blunt and accurate comment. it was as if you had read his mind and were now taunting him with his own desires. he fidgeted on the sofa, trying to keep his tone steady despite the obvious discomfort in his pants.

“shut up...” he muttered, his voice low and full of frustrated arousal. “i just want to talk to you about... something else, okay?” yuuta's eyes darken as you mock him with that smirk on your face, your words going straight to the growing frustration and arousal within him.

you nodded, “okay.”

but your hand is moving slowly— fingers pinching your ice cream stick and pulling it out and in for a few times, still with that mocking smirk in your lips. yuuta watched as your hand moved, and he couldn’t help but let out a small, involuntary moan. he knew you were doing it on purpose, trying to tease and torture him even more, and it was working all too well. he bit his lip and clenched his fists, trying to keep his control and not give in to the growing need in his body.

“why... why are you doing this to me?” he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of desire and frustration. yuuta's body is tense as he watches you play with the ice cream stick, the sounds of your slurping and licking adding to his growing ache. he can feel his self-control slipping, the desire for you growing stronger with each passing moment.

“i just— i just want to talk to you... can you please. . .put the ice cream down for a minute?” his voice is pleading now, desperation bleeding into the words. again, you nodded, “yes, babe.” so you are putting the ice cream down— down to your throat until you gag before slowly pulling the ice cream out of your mouth.

yuuta’s eyes darkened as he watched you put the ice cream down your throat, the sight of you gagging only adding to the overwhelming mix of desire and frustration coursing through him. he swallows hard, his voice growing even more strained as he speaks, “y/n, that's not what i meant...”

yuuta's frustration and arousal reach a boiling point as he watches you continue to tease him on purpose, making it increasingly difficult for him to think clearly. he knows he should put an end to this maddening game, but his body is betraying him, responding to every action and movement you make.

he takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his desire and speak calmly, yet he can't help the hint of pleading in his voice, “can you please, just stop what you're doing and talk to me?” you nodded enthusiastically, your smile widening as you finally turned your attention back to yuuta. “yes, baby, i’m all done now. we can talk,” you reassured him, placing the ice cream stick down on the table with a contented sigh.

he noticed a small smudge of ice cream lingering at the corner of your lips. the sight made you look even more sensual. you were clearly enjoying the moment, and the bit of ice cream on your lips only added to the fire. it was white and creamy and all yuuta could ever think was how you look with his cum on your lips.

he swallowed hard, his mind wandering to thoughts of how you would look with it replaced by his own... he tried to brush away the thought, but the image was already burned into his mind. “thanks, listen, I really do need to talk to you about something...”

yuuta’s voice trailed off as his gaze fixated on the ice cream smudge on your lip. His mind was overwhelmed with thoughts and images of what he wanted to do to you, and he found it increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation. he cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice even as he continued speaking, “it's important... or at least, i think it is, but i can't concentrate with... with...” he pauses, his eyes locked on that damn smudge of ice cream on your lip.

“with what?”

yuuta’s frustration and desire grew stronger as he continued to stare at your lip, the ice cream smudge taunting him. he knew he should just blurt out what he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. he took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and form a coherent sentence.

“that, that ice cream smudged... on your lip,” he manages to say, his voice strained and low, “it's distracting me.” he tried to keep his voice steady, but he could hear the slight waver in his tone, betraying the struggle he was having to keep his focus and control. he clenched his fists, silently willing you to just wipe that damn ice cream smudge off your lip, but you just sat there, seemingly oblivious to the effect it was having on him.

he shifted on the sofa, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the movement only served to remind him of the growing ache in his body. he wanted to reach out and wipe it off himself, but he knew that would only make things worse. he swallowed hard, his voice strained as he spoke again, “babe... can you please just wipe that ice cream off your lip? it's driving me insane.”

“oh?” your thumb moves across your lips, brushing the ice cream off of you before licking your finger. “sweet, just like when i swallow you.” yuuta's breath hitched as he watched you wipe the ice cream off your lips with your finger, and then casually licking it clean, as if you were blissfully unaware of the effect you had on him.

he couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at your nonchalant attitude, but at the same time, his body responded to the sight, stirring with renewed desire at your words, “babe... what are you doing to me...”

you taking off your shirt before moving closer, “wanna taste yourself?” you mumble on his lips after you ring your arms around his neck, closing any gap between you and him. yuuta let out a soft moan as he feels your lips on his, the taste of the sweet ice cream still lingering on them. your arms around his neck only added to his growing arousal, and he found it increasingly difficult to keep his control.

he let his hands roam over your bare skin, tracing the curves and ridges of your body with his fingers as he spoke in a ragged whisper, “god, you're driving me crazy... you know that?”

smiling, you whisper “i know,” on his lips as you push him to lie on the couch, slowly with you on top of him. yuuta's body responds eagerly to your touch and movement, his hands instinctively reaching for your hips and holding you gently in place on top of him. he can feel the heat from your body radiating through him, the sweet, lingering taste of the ice cream still clinging to your lips.

he looks up at you with a mixture of frustration and desire, his voice coming out in a low, gravelly whisper, “you're going to be the death of me, you know that? i-i want you so badly.”

“we can forget the chicken, i'm craving to get rail out of nowhere,” you mumble on his lips, licking his bottom lips. a low, guttural moan escapes from yuuta's lips as he feels you licking his bottom lip, his body responding immediately to your touch and words. he can feel his resolve slipping as his hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you even closer to him on the sofa.

he manages to speak through gasps and breaths, “jesus... the things you do to me.” he can feel the heat of your body pressed against his, his hands begin to roam over the bare skin of your back, tracing the contour of your curves as he no longer fights the rising tide of desire and frustration within him.

by the end of the night, yuuta had certainly made sure that you were thoroughly exhausted and satisfied, paying you back for all the teasing and driving him crazy. the combination of his pent-up frustration and desire had led to a night of intense passion and energy that left you both breathless and spent.

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

Left On Read - Yuta x Reader SMAU

chap 5: crash out masterlist

you didn’t want to forgive toge, considering how he called you a hoe and all. but, you’re open to the aspect of meeting his friend panda. you also appreciated his apology, much better than yujis, who’s supposed to be your best friend.

after sending the last text, yuta turned his phone on do not disturb and got smile ready for you.

“it’s a bit scary, but don’t worry, i’m here for you.” he said with a genuine smile.

for once in your life, you didn’t feel like the second choice.

-

hai guys! i’m glad everyone is in agreement that they do NOT deserve forgiveness 😭 watching you guys tweak out in the comments is the funniest thing ever DO IT MORE I HATE THEM ALL!

also guys would it be whorish of me to make multiple guys have one sided crushes on yn.. main love interest will be yuta my glorious king but i think it’d be funny for everyone to switch up after her immaculate glow up from moving on to a dif friend group 🤤🤤

@shokosbunny @kalulakunundrum @tenthmilo @maddietries @genxnarumi @reiluvr @love-me-satoru @crystal-freak24 @gigiiiiislife @juujujs @heartz4nanami @justmare @noomimi @thirtykiwis @luvsymai @walllflowerrrsss

[yuutawe]

yuuta okkotsu is not the type of man who says “you’re mine”. he says “i’m yours” — as a simple statement of a fact.

he has no shame uttering the words over and over again. “yours, yours. i’m only yours”.

[essmeow]

AN ITADORI GUIDE TO PUBLIC HIGHSCHOOL

WITH: megumi fushiguro x reader

you've gone to a boarding school almost your whole life, but you're jealous of your twin brother yuji's fun high school experience—so you transfer. though falling in love with his best friend wasn't part of the plan...

status : currently on hiatus

tags : found family , fluff & crack , highschool/modern au , uncle sukuna , may be ooc , smau + written parts , cursing , fem! reader , language , angst if you squint

TABLE OF CONTENT:

INTROS: family ties questionable group + moodboard

01 : suprise! 02 : mitski & mondays 03 : homework answers? 04 : sato-who? 05 : no. 1 party anthem 06 : (they long to be) close to you 07 : vegetable pasta 08 : ...under construction...

[sluttyten]

UNHOLY - Chapter Eleven

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

genre: supernatural au

characters: fem reader, yuta, ten, winwin, mark, others mentioned

tags: polyamory, smut, threesome, double penetration, poly negotiations, angst

length: 9,263

summary: you explore the house of the watchers

<-previous || next–>

The House of the Watchers must be endless. The halls wind in infinite paths, the odd clinking and clanging sounds echo from a distance no matter how quickly you walk towards them. Even when you, Mark, and WinWin reach the main corridor of the ground floor, it extends in either direction as far as you can see. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” Mark says, raking his fingers through his hair. Instinctively you reach for his hand, pulling it away from his hair like you’d done several times over the past stressful week. “How can something this big even exist?”

“Have you seen the underground of Hell City?” WinWin asks rhetorically. “That place is fucking huge too. It shouldn’t make sense either. All of this, everything in our world is made by magic. It doesn’t have to make sense.” He glances quickly down at your fingers tangled with Mark’s. 

You quickly loosen your hold, stepping away from both of them to figure out which direction you want to go. 

You’re almost certain that heading to the right will eventually spit you back out in the entrance hall, so heading left will take you even deeper into this maze-like manor. You feel the cold almost-brush of Mark’s arm beside yours, radiating a chill from his skin as he steps up beside you. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks. 

“I think we should go that way.” You point to the left. 

“And what exactly are we looking for?” WinWin keeps his voice low, glancing around even though you can’t even see any Watchers along this long stretch of hallway, though to be fair there could be hundreds of them tucked behind the many doors that lead off of this single hall. 

You shrug. “We’re just looking. To see what we can see.”

Behind you, on the stairs that the three of you descended just a moment ago, comes the whisper of footsteps. 

A pair of Watchers in white robes appear. Both have their hoods drawn up over their heads, and one carries a stack of books while the other has his arms full with an odd assortment of metal scraps, a bag of broken glass, a couple precariously perched beakers filled with oddly colored solutions, and a single potted plant with tendrils that have wound their way over the Watcher’s shoulders and neck like a child holding on. The pair of them don’t spare your trio a glance. They just immediately turn off the stairs and head left, exactly as you’d intended to do. 

“Should we follow them?” Mark asks, whispering now. 

“It’s not following. We happen to be going that direction too,” WinWin says, and immediately he marches off behind the Watchers. 

You must admit, if this little adventure you’re on to explore the Watchers’ House is meant to sate your curiosity, following these two Watchers seems like a good place to start. 

They’re quietly conversing as they walk a short distance ahead of the three of you. You can’t make out anything more than the low rumble of their voices. It doesn’t help that Mark has begun nervously talking beside you, commenting on the tapestries and portraits that fill the walls in between the doorways here. WinWin is just ahead of you, his head cocked slightly to the side, his gaze trained on the two Watchers in front of him, so maybe he is eavesdropping on them. 

They take a sudden right turn, climbing up a narrow staircase that emerges in a corridor that is filled with sunlight, bright enough to cast its light down to the hallway you’re standing in. The burbling sound of voices comes down with the light. 

WinWin turns at the base of the stairs, checking to make sure that you and Mark are still behind him. “Do we go that way?”

You shrug. “Sure, let’s see what they’re up to.”

You take the lead now, though WinWin sticks as close as your shadow, Mark trailing behind. The sunlight is warm against your skin, reminding you of a blazing summer day. You recall late spring and early summer days during middle school; the way the light would pour in through the big windows in the classroom to stretch like a lazy cat over your desk, pulling you inevitably towards sleepiness. That’s what this feels like. The same still air of your schooldays, filled with drowsy-making elements. 

You blink as you emerge fully, stepping up into the corridor. Clear panes of glass run along the wall ahead of you in either direction. The windows here almost all look out over the forest and a section of the gardens you’d passed through on your intrusion into the House. Some of them look out over grassy green plains of tall grass waving in the breeze. Others look out on a regular university campus caught in the midst of autumn colors — all burnished reds, bronzes, and muddy grays. You walk closer to the window right in front of you, one looking out on a grassy plain. 

In the distance you can see shadowy mountains, hazy from the distance. Closer at hand, a group of people ride on horses, though they’re still too far away to actually make out any features. You watch their progress until a bird soaring overhead distracts you, soaring from one edge of the window pane to the next before it vanishes, the sight of it swallowed by the change in view of the next window back to the forest outside the House of the Watchers. 

“What are you looking at?” WinWin asks, “Come on, before we lose sight of them.”

You pull your gaze away from the spectacle of the windows back to the sunlit corridor. The two Watchers have joined a group of a few more white-robed men, all of them carrying a variety of objects. They’re vanishing beneath an archway some distance down the way, after which the corridor shifts into a darker, woodier style, almost gothic. 

Mark walks closer to the wall, squinting against the brightness of the pure sunlight. 

That’s something you forget about. The sunlight-sensitivity aspect of his vampirism. It doesn’t burn him or make him sparkle (which is just a ridiculous twist on the legend, you think), but his eyes are sensitive in unfiltered total daylight. Dawn and dusk are fine, since he’d clearly enjoyed the sunrise just this morning. 

“Here,” you say, manifesting quickly a pair of sunglasses for Mark. You pass them over to him. “These should help; they’ll adjust to the light levels for you.”

Mark accepts them, turning them over in his hands to get a look at them before he quickly slips them on. The lenses in the round black frames have already darkened to a near-blackout tint. “That’s perfect.” Mark pushes them up his nose, adjusting them against his ears slightly. “You manifest some insane shit, you know that?” 

Is it really that impressive? They’re transition lenses; you knew people from your hometown who wore those all the time. 

“Yeah, well, they look good on you.” You watch for a moment as Mark fidgets with them again as the three of you pass beneath the archway into the darker section of the corridor. The lenses in his glasses smoothly transition from black to clear, and he looks just like he’s wearing a pair of regular glasses.

“You look like a dork, don’t let her lie to you like that.” WinWin brushes between you and Mark, knocking into the vampire slightly. His arm swings around your shoulder, bringing you along with him as he keeps walking forward, following the sound of the Watchers’ voices. Mark hisses something under his breath that you can’t understand, and WinWin only tightens his arm around you in response.

You pass by several open doorways as you follow the voices. There’s a rectangular wood-paneled room with a roaring fireplace, a billiards table, armchairs, and air with the lingering scent of cigars. One room is just filled with plants, and a couple white-robed Watchers roam between the luscious greenery. Several of the rooms just appear dusty and dim and otherwise empty. 

It’s only when you finally catch up with the small group of Watchers you’ve been trailing that you find a room that is truly occupied.

This open door leads into a large room with lofty ceilings and windows that pour more of that clear golden sunlight into the room. There are tables positioned in a semicircle around a podium, white-robed Watchers fill in around the tables as a black-robed Watcher stands behind the podium. As you, WinWin, and Mark gather in the doorway, you realize that what you’re looking at is a classroom. Likely, it’s some sort of a lab.

The Watchers drop their hoods, revealing youthful faces around the classroom. Books are piled on the tables, the odd metal scraps and glass fragments and plants and such are laid out carefully. They’re clearly students, you realize.

The black-robed Watcher begins to speak, getting out only the words, “Today, brothers, we will be—” before he cuts himself short. His still-hooded head turns toward the doorway. You don’t have to be able to see his face to imagine the twist of his facial features, particularly since his tone gets the point across clear enough as he says, “Begone, vermin. These lessons aren’t for the likes of you.”

A force presses against your chest, forcing you and the men on either side of you, back out through the doorway. The heavy wooden door slams shut in your face. 

“That was rude.” WinWin looks like he’s ready to reach for the doorknob and force his way back into the room, but you quickly grab his hand, pulling it back down, holding it between both of yours. 

“Maybe we should move on. If this is a school too, then there’s definitely got to be a library, right? Maybe we’ll find some stuff there, information on whatever deal Yuta and Ten broke.” You look down the corridor, noticing that it opens up ahead into a separate space. “That way.”

WinWin clasps your hand in his, and you can feel the pulsing heat of his temper, the twitching of his muscles. He stalks along angrily beside you, his long legs carrying him faster than you can almost keep up with, so you’re racing along beside him. He’s irritated, on edge around the Watchers. Not that you can blame him. That one had just referred to the three of you as vermin.

You begin to realize that many of the doors you’re passing by are classrooms, either the empty dim ones, or the ones with closed doors that you can actually hear muffled voices behind if you listen closely. Once you reach the end of the corridor, a staircase winds around the square space, rising high up above you and down several floors even though you’re fairly certain that you should only be on the first or second floor up from the ground. Here, too, is evidence of this being a school. 

A directory stands on the wall, arrows pointing back down the corridor you’ve just come from, more pointing up the next flight of stairs, some pointing down, and a few more pointing towards the continuation of the corridor ahead. 

“Why can’t they have signposts like this all over this place?” WinWin asks, studying the sign. “It would help to not get lost in the maze.”

Even as you’re watching, the words and arrows begin to shuffle. The arrow beside the words ‘Portal Science’ spins in a wild circle; it began pointing right, back the direction you’ve come from but when it at last comes to a halt, it’s pointing upwards. The ‘Language Studies’ arrow now points right, the ‘Combat Training’ arrow points down, and the ‘Library’ arrow points upwards. 

Mark snorts. “That would just be too easy if they had them everywhere.” He taps the arrow beside Library. “Are we going up?”

Of course you’re going up.

It isn’t just the pursuit of knowledge that leads you upwards seeking the library. You’re curious about the entirety of the House of the Watchers. The architectural style is fascinating, especially the way that the different styles seem to blend seamlessly, shifting from gothic to Victorian to almost modern in some places. As you climb the staircase to the next floor, your feet tread in the dips of the well-traveled stone stairs, your fingers run along the marble balustrade, which is discolored and worn in spots from the hands of the many passersby over the ages. This at least is a sign that even here time passes, even where the immortal Watchers reside, there is something that wears away over time.

“It makes sense that this is a school,” WinWin says as he climbs the stairs right behind you. “If all the Watchers are here, isn’t this where they would train the young ones? But how do they even have young ones? Aren’t they all men?”

Mark clears his throat. “The encyclopedia had an explanation for that, but you never wanted to read it.”

WinWin growls softly. 

“Watchers aren’t born,” Mark explains. “They’re made.”

You vaguely recall reading that part of the passage. It had been at the very beginning, and all of the more interesting stuff had been listed deeper inside the columns dedicated to the Watchers, so you’d focused more of your attention there. You’re pretty sure the encyclopedia hadn’t gone into much deeper detail than that, so maybe that’s something else you’ll be able to learn in the library.

It takes climbing up another two levels before the signpost’s arrow for the library points to the left instead of up. 

You feel the pull – the lure of the library, quickening your pace as you turn down the hallway to the left of the landing. 

“Wait up,” WinWin calls, but you’re rushing ahead.

Eager to find the treasury of Watcher knowledge, you turn another corner, and you run headlong into someone, bowling them over completely. You’re sprawled over this person, all tangled up together in limbs and too-flowy clothing, when Mark and WinWin catch up. 

You’re struggling, truthfully, to detach yourself from this other person. WinWin hooks his fingers into the back of your shirt, and with a careful yank, he hauls you up, sitting you back down flat on your feet. He keeps his one hand safely twisted in the back of your shirt, his other arm circles around your waist like an iron bar. Mark steps halfway in front of you.

Renjun, demure as ever, still lies sprawled on the ground where you’d knocked him. His strange eyes flicker back and forth between silver and hazel as his emotions fly. 

“You again,” WinWin complains through gritted teeth. 

Mark doesn’t speak, but his stance says it all. Teeth slightly bared, one arm stretched out towards you, and he’s hunched forward over Renjun partially. 

“Both of you, stop.” You shove at WinWin’s arm around your waist, which he drops, but he doesn’t let go of your shirt. “I ran into him, it’s not like he attacked me or anything. Back off.”

Mark and WinWin both continue eyeing the odd silvery-eyed young man with suspicion. 

You reach down, holding out your hand in peace to Renjun. “I’m sorry,” you apologize. Renjun clasps your proffered hand, accepting the help in getting to his feet with a kind smile. You smile in return, releasing his hand once he’s upright, and you continue with, “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, and I shouldn’t have been running.”

“Where were you running to, if you don’t mind me asking?” Renjun asks, brushing the dust off his clothes. He glances between your face, WinWin’s, and Mark’s.

“We were looking for the library.”

WinWin pinches your arm, hissing a quiet, “Don’t!”

“Oh, stop it, would you?” You twist around to face WinWin. “What does it hurt for him to know that we’re looking for the library? It’s not illegal, we’re doing nothing wrong, and even if we were, do you think he would tattle on us to a Watcher?”

WinWin folds his arms across his chest, staring down at you, and then glaring over at Renjun. “I don’t know what he would do. But I don’t like the idea of any of them knowing what we’re doing.”

At that, Renjun snorts out a laugh. “Sorry, but they definitely do have someone keeping an eye on the three of you. You’re strangers in the House. A vampire? A werewolf? They don’t trust you or even like you.” He points back over his shoulder. “But if you’re looking for the library, it’s right there, the double doors down the hall. I won’t stop you. Or inform on you.” The last part he directs at WinWin, stepping out of the way.

Mark makes a small disgruntled noise, but he walks around Renjun, heading in the direction of the library. WinWin follows too, though he loops his fingers around your wrist and attempts to pull you along after him. 

You do your best to linger behind a moment. “Thank you, Renjun. And, again, I’m sorry.”

“It’s no problem. And if you need any help with anything else, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He smiles, a sweet expression that makes you smile too. 

You appreciate the offer of help, but of course, finding him would be the difficult part of that. Renjun waves goodbye, and then he disappears down the hallway towards the stairs. You catch up with WinWin, who only shakes his head at your friendliness with the young man that he doesn’t trust. Mark is already several feet ahead, pushing open the double doors that lead into the library.

As a child your parents had tried their very best to steer you clear of media that contained magic, but for a little girl Disney movies were almost inevitable. Sleepovers, school, good-intentioned babysitters had introduced Disney princesses into your life. Beauty and the Beast had been your favorite. The fantastic castle with its living furniture, the Beast trying to show human manners, Belle with her beautiful yellow gown, you’d been enchanted by the story and the animation. There had been no part of the movie that you loved more than the library reveal. 

That library had shown up in your dreams several times when you were in a reading phase, devouring books like it was your job. The library in the movie was enormous, decorative, everything that you could want. 

Stepping in through the doors of the Watchers’ library makes you feel like you’re in the Beast’s library at last. It is absolutely enormous; soaring ceilings at least forty feet high, massive floor to ceiling windows that flood the room with that absurdly pure sunlight. There’s a roaring fireplace big enough to probably fit your entire apartment back in your hometown, and there are a variety of cushiony chairs and sofas, reading tables and a table for books that need to be reshelved sitting in front of the fire. Narrow staircases and balconies and sliding ladders are visible all around the room. There’s a globe, which at the present moment has several Watchers surrounding it, observing small glowing marks that move across its surface. The floors are polished so well that it makes the library seem even larger, as if it extends downwards too, reflected so perfectly. 

Your awe-filled gasp captures Mark’s attention. He turns to look at you with worry, mistaking your awe-filled gasp as a reason for panic before he sees the starry way you’re drinking in the room. 

To the left and the right, the library has wings filled with shelves on the floor as well as rising up towards the ceiling. You can see Watchers milling through the rows and around on the stairs above. 

“Where do we even begin?” You sigh, stepping into the room. The scent of the books, of the fire, of something sweet and romantic, swells around you, drawing you even further into the room. “Maybe we should split up?”

You don’t even realize you’ve been whispering until Mark touches your elbow, and while pointing towards the left wing of the library, he also whispers, “I’ll look over here. Anything interesting I’ll bring to, uh, this table.” He points towards an unoccupied table in front of the fireplace. “But we might be here for….”

“Forever,” WinWin finishes for him. 

Eagerly, you nearly skip across the gleaming floor towards the right wing. You’re unsurprised when WinWin follows. 

“I don’t know what we’re looking for exactly,” he murmurs when you twist to look at him. “So I figure, I’ll just stick with you.”

You reach for WinWin’s hand, and you lace your fingers through his. “I’m not exactly sure what we’re looking for either,” you admit, “But I’ll know it when I see it.” 

What you want to find is answers. Why are Yuta and Ten really being imprisoned? What was the accord? How did they break it? Maybe you’ll find a history of the Watchers book, or a demon history book. Something like that that will clearly lay out the answers for you. 

WinWin quietly walks alongside you, holding your hand, glancing at the shelves as they rise up around you and him. You’re dwarfed by the sheer size and amount of books around you, and you think even WinWin must feel the oppressive weight of all of that knowledge around you. He clears his throat, lifting your entwined hands up so he can kiss the back of yours. You halfway ignore him, though your heart flutters as you face the shelves, scanning the titles on the spines of all of these books. 

“You know I’ve never spent much time in libraries.” WinWin’s words are soft, meant only for your ears, not for the Watcher who enters this aisle behind you. “In Hell City, I visited the library there maybe a handful of times over my whole life, never for very long. Books don’t hold a whole lot of interest for me, especially not ones like I’m sure you find here, the research, boring ones. But there was one day when I was passing by the HELP (Hell on Earth Library of the Public), shortly after you came back to the city, and I — this is kinda embarrassing to admit, honestly — I caught your scent heading inside, so I went in. At this point, I already knew how I feel about you, but you were with Yuta and Ten, wanting nothing to do with me. But I, uh, watched you.” 

That pulls your attention away from the books. You glance sideways at him, still trying to look like you’re browsing, but that’s a bit difficult because you also want to just look at him. 

WinWin looks surprisingly sheepish as he admits this. He lifts a hand to touch the back of his head, throwing a surreptitious look at you from beneath his eyelashes. “It sounds creepier than it is. You just looked pretty there among all the books, browsing the shelves. And you had this little line right here.” He touches a finger to the spot between your eyebrows. “And you kept biting your lip.” The finger drops down to brush over your bottom lip. “Your hair kept falling in front of your face and you would blow a bit of air out the side of your mouth to try to shift the hair away. It was cute, you were pretty, and I was so jealous that you weren’t mine.

“Damn,” WinWin sighs, “I’m still jealous. “I really, really like you. I feel like I deserve to have something good in my life, and I desperately want that something good to be you. Even with Yuta and Ten because they’re something good too, just in a different way.”

You’ve abandoned your browsing of the shelves entirely. Your gaze is locked on WinWin’s face. His fingers still linger at your lips, his other hand is twisted with yours.  You’ve turned to face him, taken a half step closer to him. 

“I already told you that the three of us already agreed that you’re welcome to join.” You whisper, leaning up on your toes a little. WinWin is so tall, which you’ve noticed before but right now, as you’re trying to keep your voice low, you notice it even more. You press a hand to his shoulders, lifting onto your toes as he dips his head so when you whisper your lips are closer to his ear. “I want to be good for you, WinWin.” 

“Fuck.” His fingers on your lip slip, dipping along your jaw, curling beneath your chin. You press up on your toes just that little bit more, turning your head to kiss WinWin. 

His hand previously entwined with yours falls away, instead he wraps his arm around your waist, his fingers pressing against your hip. 

It’s not a big kiss. Not dramatic. It’s hardly more than a press of your lips, but you swear WinWin is about to lose it over the kiss. You can imagine it now: him pressing you back against one of these shelves, hiking your legs up around his waist, his lips and tongue working magic against yours until you’re whimpering and moaning loud enough that every Watcher and Mark in this library can hear you. You think of getting fucked here like that, and it brings you back to the last time you got fucked — an alley in the underside of Hell City, Yuta first, Ten after. 

In the present, you fall back flat into your feet, putting a little space between you and WinWin. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, turning your back to him, running a hand over your face, pushing back a few loose hairs that tickle against your suddenly very warm face. “We need to be looking at the books. Focus.”

WinWin laughs softly, a gentle hand touching the small of your back. “Focus, right.”

That’s hard to do. You’re being hit on two sides with distractions — the memory of Yuta and Ten in the alley, paired with the sadness and panic that had followed, and on the other side are your fantasies and hot-blooded desire for WinWin. 

“Focus,” you repeat, shaking your head and walking away from him a little bit. 

WinWin stays at the section of the aisle where you left him. He tips his head back to scan the book titles on the higher shelves. You move a short distance away, close enough that if either of you spoke the other would hear it. A Watcher still stands at the end of the aisle, his black hood obscuring his face, his fingers run along the book spines. He occasionally pulls one off a shelf, flipping it open to search for something. His search appears as fruitless as your own. 

Long after you’ve gotten sucked deep into your focused search, the three of you remain in this aisle. You’ve found a few titles that seemed interesting if not promising, and they’re stacked together midway down the aisle. WinWin has a smaller stack beside himself. 

“Should we go find Mark?” WinWin asks after a long while. He’s holding his stack along with half of yours. “Maybe actually check through these books?” 

You agree, carefully lifting your stack of books. Some of them seem fragile and ancient, the binding crumbling where you touch it. You leave that aisle behind, heading for the table beside the fireplace where Mark is already sitting behind a barrier of open books. He’s still wearing the glasses you gave him earlier, and they do give him a studious look, but you like it. 

As you place your books down on the table alongside his, you glance over your shoulder, and realize that the Watcher from the aisle has followed you out of it. He’s not trailing you to the table, but he is standing several feet away, trying to look nonchalant as he studies a star map that decorates the end of one row of shelves. It’s definitely the same one; you can just tell, and it doesn’t seem like a coincidence that he followed you and WinWin into the aisle and out of it as well. 

A few of the white-cloaked, young Watchers sit at the other tables and in the comfy chairs surrounding this massive fireplace. You notice some of them throwing strange looks in the direction of your table, but none of them say anything. There are more of the Watchers in black sitting around here as well, and they also occasionally twitch their hoods in your direction. For the most part, you’re left alone and ignored as you and the two men begin digging through the tomes you’ve gathered. 

At the opposite end of the fireplace, there’s a table of the young Watchers in their white cloaks. They’ve been whispering and quietly laughing the whole time you’ve been sitting here, reminding you a lot of university-aged boys who spend more time goofing off than actually studying. You do your best to ignore them until suddenly a few of them are standing, the laughter a little louder. 

You lift your gaze from a page about a Watcher treatise with sirens to see that the boys are walking towards your table. And boys is an apt description; these Watchers are smooth-cheeked and bright-eyed, their faces are still a little round and soft, glowing with youth. They have a mischievous look, which should have been your first tip off.

Just as you open your mouth to say something to Mark and WinWin, the young Watcher in the lead, reaches out. 

His hand catches fast in the collar of Mark’s shirt. He hauls Mark out of his seat, throwing him down onto the ground, planting a foot on Mark’s chest. 

Immediately, you and WinWin are both on your feet. WinWin’s growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating an echo around the room. Your flames burst to the surface, flickering just across your skin — enough to be a threat, but not enough to let an errant spark set the whole library ablaze. 

“What do you think you’re doing touching our books, leech?” The Watcher sneers down at Mark, grinding his heel down against Mark’s chest. 

“We’re reading them, you dolt,” WinWin growls, a snarl ripping out from behind his teeth. “What the fuck do you think we’re doing with them?”

One of the others steps around where Mark is pinned to the ground, eyes red and burning with fury. This new big-headed Watcher slaps his hands down on the table, leering at WinWin as he brings his face dangerously close to the werewolf’s. “Didn’t know a dog could read. What other tricks can you do, mongrel?”

Mark hisses, his fingers twisting in the clean fabric of the Watcher’s robe, trying to shift the foot off his chest. WinWin’s fingers twist into claws, digging against the polished mahogany of the table, looking as if he’s about to leap across the table at the Watcher. 

You let your flames fan a little higher, finally drawing the attention of the small group to you now. You can see your flames flickering, reflected in their eyes. There is fear and awe and contempt in equally confusing measures displayed on their faces. A wave of heat pushes out from you, fluttering the thin pages of the books displayed in front of you. One particularly fragile book’s pages even curl and blacken slightly on the edges.  

“And you–” The one pinning Mark to the ground sneers at you now, his ugly face twisting. “You demon-loving, twisted little bitch.”

The next few seconds are a total blur in response to his insolence.

You can’t decide if the roaring in your ears is a result of your pulse and shock, if it’s actually the sound coming from Mark and WinWin together, or if it’s the sound of your flames growing and stretching out their blazing tendrils to sock the bastard right in his ugly face. 

All you know is that when the furious haze clears from in front of your eyes a few seconds later, the Watcher is the one on his back, his hands covering his face as he writhes in pain. Mark stands above him, bloody eyed and his fangs out. WinWin has knocked over the chair behind him, and the Watcher who had been in his face is crouching beneath the table. 

A black-robed Watcher stands beside you, his hand outstretched. Neither Mark nor WinWin so much as twitches, and it’s then that you realize the Watcher has somehow spelled them into stillness. You can almost see the invisible paralytic tendrils stretching from the Watcher’s fingertips towards the vampire and the werewolf. The way he stands and holds himself, you can once again tell it’s the same Watcher that had been in the aisle with you and WinWin. 

“Get up,” he says sharply. The two young Watchers scramble to their feet, running back off to their table, to the safety of their friends. With a wave of one hand, the Watcher sends all of the books that you had piled on your table off now to the table meant for reshelving. With his other hand, he gestures back towards the doors of the library. “Please, remove yourselves.”

“We didn’t start it,” you argue, bristling with anger since neither WinWin nor Mark seem able to. “Those ones over there –”

“I’m well aware. Please, leave.” He gestures again towards the door. 

Mark straightens, fangs still fully on display as he looks around at the other Watchers who still stare at the three of you. WinWin stalks away without a backwards glance, his hands clenched into fists, and his whole body trembles with barely restrained rage. You know that he wants to tear the Watchers limb from limb, not for them ridiculing him as a dog, but for what they said about you, how they treated Mark. 

“Let’s go, Mark.” He doesn’t budge from his spot, not until you walk around the table and grab his shirtsleeve, pulling at it. Even as you walk away from the table, from the Watchers before the fireplace, and the cluster of Watchers who turn and stare from their positions around the globe display, Mark glares at all of them, pacing along behind you, looking backwards. 

It’s only once the double doors of the library have closed behind you, thrown back out into the less glamorous state of the hallway that you feel like you can breathe again. 

WinWin stands with his back against the wall opposite the doors, arms folded across his chest, and a sour look on his face. 

Mark shakes your hand off, and immediately he walks away. 

“Where are you going?” You ask.

“I don’t know. Away.”

 He spits over his shoulder, and he keeps going, heading deeper down the hallway instead of back the way you’ve come. 

WinWin steps forward to stop you following him. “Let him be for a bit. He’s angry and just needs some time to cool off,” he explains. 

“We’re all angry, WinWin. They were being dickbags in there.” You throw a hand up, gesturing back towards the library doors. You hope your voice is loud enough to carry through the thick wood and echo around the vast library for all of them to hear. 

That draws a smirk from WinWin, amused even as he tells you, “I think he’s a little more than angry too. Mark might be embarrassed.” At your puzzled expression, he says, “Mark’s a tough guy. Head of his coven, boss of half of the Hell City underground. He doesn’t usually experience anyone besting him in anything, not like that. Not picked up, thrown down, and pinned to the ground while being ridiculed. Especially not in front of you. So he’s probably a little embarrassed. I know I would be.”

Oh. 

“Right. Maybe we should let him cool off for a while.” You feel your shoulders relax, though you didn’t realize how tense you were holding them. You exhale, bringing your hands up to your hair to just massage your scalp a little in an attempt to ease the slight headache that’s suddenly taken root. Your hands and arms still tingle from your flames, and for the first time you look down at yourself. 

The sleeves of your top are burnt, singed in some places and completely gone in others. “Damn it,” you grumble. “I ruined it already.”

“I kinda like it.” WinWin steps up to your side, sliding a hand against your waist. “A little sexy, a little dangerous.”

You bump him away with your hip. “Stop. I look ragged.”

“No, you don’t. You’re always pretty.” WinWin drapes his arm over your shoulders, spinning you around with him to head back down the hallway towards the stairs. “Trust me, princess, I’ve seen you in a lot worse of a state than you are right now, and you were still insanely attractive.” He looks down at you, gaze slipping down your frame. 

You know he’s talking about you during his rut, when you’d been dick-drunk, sweaty and naked, covered in hickeys and some minor bruising, both of you wearing scratches from the other. Your face goes a bit warm at the memory, and a slumbering beast in your belly stirs a little. 

Deciding that changing the subject is probably the safest route, you say, “How’s Mark going to find his way back to us? Or how are we going to find him?”

“I’ll be able to track him if he doesn’t show up in a bit.” WinWin taps his nose. You open your mouth, and WinWin cuts you off quickly. “No, I can’t smell them here. Before you ask. Yuta and Ten’s scents were out in the garden, but here in the house it’s too muddled, too old. I can’t tell where they are, but I think you were right last night for sure. They’re somewhere in this house, but I can’t tell exactly where.”

“Do you think if we got close, you’d be able to tell?” Suddenly, you have a hope like a tiny spark in the desolate darkness of the past several days. 

WinWin shrugs. “Maybe. But we can try.”

Truly, the House of the Watchers is absolutely massive and fully nonsensical in terms of architecture and continuity and obeying the laws of space. You and WinWin descend the series of stairs. You find the intersecting hallway that you and Renjun had passed through just this morning, the one filled with rainbow light, although two of the halls branching off of it are different than they’d been earlier. You pass workshop rooms that give off vapors and odd scents and light. You climb up towers with so many stairs that your calves ache. Through some the windows you can see far away over the forest and the garden of the Watchers’ estate, and through others you catch glimpses of many other places – a raging sea caught in the midst of a storm, a snowy peak in a mountain range, the view from a highrise in Shanghai.

WinWin doesn’t catch any scent or indication that you’re any closer to finding where the Watchers are hiding Yuta and Ten, but through your wandering, you do cross Mark’s scent a few times.

“I can’t tell if it’s from today or last night,” WinWin remarks the first time. And though he tells you each time that he detects Mark’s trail, you don’t come across him. 

You pass handfuls of Watchers. Some are by themselves, some are in pairs or other small groups. You do rediscover the vestibule that you’d passed on your way to the court room with the Watchers this morning, but it too has already moved. The courtyard doesn’t sit outside the doors of the vestibule, but rather a terrace dappled with sunlight through viney trellises. The courtroom isn’t located there anymore either.

It’s after you’ve been exploring with WinWin for at least an hour, possibly longer, that he stops in his tracks, nose lifted as he breathes in. His hand on your wrist tugs slightly, and you slow, swinging around to face him. 

“What?” You come closer as soon as you see the look on his face. Confusion. Excitement. He’s sniffing, turning his head from side to side as he catches the scent. “What, WinWin? Is it them?”

The seconds tick by painfully, anticipation and hope beating through you with every pulse of your heart. If he’s found them then all of this can be over! As soon as you’ve got Ten and Yuta back in your arms, you’re out of here. Fuck the Watchers. Fuck whatever accord they’re accusing Yuta and Ten of having broken. You’re taking your boyfriends and you’re escaping from here.

WinWin turns his head sharply, and then he snaps back around to look down at you.

“I smell… food. A lot of it.” 

Your wrist jerks almost painfully as he sets off down a staircase, around a sharp corner, he dips quickly down a narrow stairwell that’s nearly hidden in a niche, and then you’re stumbling out into glowing torchlight. Wall sconces line a richly carpeted hallway. Dark wood paneling lines the walls halfway up at which point fancy red wallpaper takes over. And there, a few short feet away from you, is a pair of doors with circular windows set in them at eye-level. 

From behind the doors you can hear sizzling, clanging, cursing, a rhythmic thudding, dicing, slicing, and chatter. The doors are kicked open, and a young woman hurries out carrying a covered platter. 

“The kitchen.” WinWin says, taking a few steps closer. He presses his nose up against one of the windows set into the doors. “Oh, damn, I’m hungry.”

The sound of a ringing bell sounds from behind the doors, followed shortly after by another. 

You stand beside WinWin, forced to stretch up on your toes slightly to see properly through the window. 

The room beyond is a blend of a modern kitchen, one that you would expect to see during the early 1900s in a fancy European house, and one even older than that. The floor and walls are both made of stone, all tightly packed together, large brown stones that give the space a cozy sort of feel. There’s a row of shiny cabinets and pots and pans and blades. There’s a wide fireplace with a big fire roasting small birds on a spit over half of it, and a large pot of some sort of stew on the other half. A cloud of steam bursts from a massive oven which one of the cooks pulls a rolling rack out of, and the rest of the kitchen is lost behind the steam. 

The wafting scent of freshly baked bread reaches you. 

WinWin pushes in through the doors before you even have the chance to fully appreciate the aroma. Naturally, you step inside right behind him. 

The action in the kitchen doesn’t quite screech to a halt, but half of the workers do pause in their jobs to look over at the two of you — the intruders in their midst. And it’s then that you actually do look at them. 

They’re elves. All of them. 

Pointed ears peek out from beneath hats, shining eyes dart between your face and WinWin’s and the door swinging back shut behind you. They’re beautiful and fine-featured, glowing in the heat of the kitchen. 

One elfin woman steps out of the cloud of steam. Her black hair is tied back, a couple curling strands escape the scarf that she wears to hold the rest back. Her eyes are bright gold, fixed on the pair of you, and she wipes her hands off on a towel at the waist of her apron before she curls her hands into fists against each hip. You can tell by her stance and the leveled gaze that she’s very likely the one running the kitchen. She’s also likely to be the one that’s about to kick you and WinWin out of the kitchen. 

“You’re not them.” She says, melodic voice carrying clear over to you. “What are you?”

Not who, but what. 

She looks away from the pair of you only long enough to sweep her piercing gaze around the room at the other elfin workers. “Get back to work. We’ve got a dinner to finish, everyone!” 

The others all burst back into motion. Noise resumes at once. The elfin woman strides closer until she’s standing just before you and WinWin. Her pointed ears glisten with small jewels, pierced all along the lobe and up to the point. She scrutinizes you even as you do her, and after a second she repeats her previous question. “What are you?”

“Sorry, miss.” WinWin dips his head, apologizing. “I'm WinWin. We’re guests, I guess, of the Watchers.”

She snorts. “Guests? That’s a new one. Usually there’s only the prisoners. And you?” Her gaze is surprisingly cold for being such a warm color. 

You manage to stutter out your name to her, intimidated by her absolute beauty. “Did — Did you say prisoners?” Your nerves can’t hold that question back from being asked aloud. The elf nods. “Do you know where they’re keeping the prisoners?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. That information is worth my life, which I would rather keep, if you don’t mind.” She wraps her hands in the towel at her waist. “We don’t get free reign of the House, generally speaking. Mostly we stay here in the kitchen or the apartments, right through there.” She points a thumb back over her shoulder towards a recessed doorway beside the fireplace. “Occasionally we run up meals when requested, but other than that, this is where we are. They keep their secrets close, you know. Is that the reason why you’ve found your way in here?”

WinWin shakes his head quickly. “No, miss. I caught a scent of the food, and, if it would be alright, I am a bit hungry.” He glances over at you, then back at her. “I’m a werewolf, so my appetite is bigger than just two meals a day.”

She makes a slight expression of disgust. “High metabolism. Typical. Follow me, I’ll get something started for you. I’m Boa, by the way.” 

Boa is graceful, floating through the workers as they hustle about, effortlessly clearing a path for you and WinWin to follow her towards the back of the kitchen. You pass the fireplace and the large oven, a rack of drying herbs, a small cool dark room that Boa tells you holds cheeses and fruits and vegetables. All the way in the back of the kitchen, snug up against the wall with windows just at the top edge, are several tables and chairs. 

“Take a seat.” Boa gestures at the tables before she turns on her heel and walks away again. 

Not all of the seats are empty. An older elfin man sits in one corner. He wears age well, with a gray beard and silver hair. His eyes are a warm shade of blue that makes you think of the ocean. If he were in the human world, you have no doubt that he would have the world swooning over him, calling him a silver fox and all sorts of less appropriate things. Yet here he sits instead, in the dim kitchen of a mythical labyrinthine manor house in Purgatory, elf ears tapering to a fine point, and he smokes a pipe. 

The old elf watches you and WinWin closely as you choose a table at the opposite end of this small dining area. WinWin pulls out a chair for you, and once you’ve sat down, he pushes it in for you like a proper gentleman. He takes the seat right beside yours at this small round table, and takes hold of your hand once more. 

“You’re still so clingy, you know that, right?” You mumble at WinWin even as you hold his hand tighter. You like the comfort of his warm hand surrounding yours. 

“It’s my job to keep you safe.” WinWin replies. “Mark and I are both fully aware of what it would mean for us if you were in anything less than perfect condition when Yuta and Ten are returned to us.” 

Boa returns a moment later, bringing with her a tray of fresh baked bread, some kind of jam, butter, a selection of cheeses and a small teapot and cups. She deposits them on the table, and then, to your surprise, she seats herself across from you. 

WinWin immediately dives into the food, ignoring the way that Boa rests her elbows on the table, tucking her folded hands beneath her chin to observe you and him with her curious golden gaze. “So he’s a werewolf,” she says, “And what are you?”

The gold of her eyes is molten, burning into you for an answer. You readily give it. “I’m human. Well, I’m a tiny bit demon too. It’s complicated, a long, confusing story.” You wave your hand, hoping she disregards that and doesn’t try to ask you for any more details. Instead, you pick up a slice of the fresh bread — still warm from the oven — and you slather it with butter. 

Boa hums, still just watching you both with an unreadable expression. “And what brings a werewolf and a not-totally-human here? As guests of the Watchers?”

You really don’t want to rehash the whole history that’s led to this moment. You pour yourself some of the tea. You smear jam across the slice of bread you’ve taken for yourself. You avoid eye contact. 

Finally WinWin speaks up for you. “They’re holding a pair of demons. The Watchers came and took them, and they refuse to tell us the actual truth of the charges, but there’s a trial set in four days. Since we came all this way, they told us to stay for the trial.” He stuffs a bite of cheese into his mouth, then continues, “The demons are her boyfriends, and they’re good friends of mine and of our vampire friend who’s with us also.”

Boa’s eyebrows lift in surprise at the mention of Mark. “Oh, now there’s a vampire too? And where is the vampire?” She scans the area as if she thinks you’re making him up or that he can turn invisible, neither of which are the case. 

“He’s wandering around.” WinWin stuffs another slice of bread into his mouth. “We’ll probably need to go find him after we’re finished here.” 

“A werewolf, a vampire, two demons, and a not-totally-human.” Boa shakes her head. “Strange. I hope the trial goes well for your demons, dear.” She stretches a hand out to lay it comfortingly over yours. “I witnessed a trial once for a friend, and the result was guilt, tragically. I never want to witness a trial like that again. We elves think of ourselves as immortal because it can take so long to age. Look at our old elf over there,” she says, gesturing behind her at the man at the table. “He’s old as we come, pretty much. A few decades shy of ninety thousand years old.”

It feels dramatic, but you can’t prevent spitting your mouthful of tea out at this new information. “Did you just say ninety thousand?”

Boa nods. “Yes. We originated around the same time as Homo sapiens, but we developed slowly over the next hundred thousand years or so, stretching out our lifespans until we have achieved this. As near to immortal as anyone could ever hope to be. He has seen it all. Lived every tragedy and great fortune of the ages. Only the Watchers predate us, and even then, it’s only the High Watcher and a few others.” 

Her tone shifts as she brings up the Watchers, filling with a less than pleased tone, and it’s increasingly obvious that although she may work here in their kitchen, she doesn’t like the Watchers. 

She doesn’t have much more to say after that, nor more to ask. Boa sits quietly while you and WinWin gorge yourselves on the bread, jam, cheeses, and tea until the arrival of a few other elves from the door Boa had earlier indicated led to apartments. She leaves you then, once more wishing you luck with the fates of your boyfriends. 

Navigating your way from the kitchen, attempting to locate Mark, somehow proves less difficult than you’d imagined. Maybe because now that WinWin’s belly is full he can concentrate more on locating Mark’s scent, or perhaps while you both sat in the kitchen, Mark wandered closer. Either way, it only takes around ten minutes of looking for Mark after you and WinWin leave the kitchen to find your missing vampire. 

He’s standing alone in a hallway, staring curiously at a portrait hanging opposite a mirror of equal size. At first when you and WinWin approach, Mark doesn’t say anything. He just continues squinting at the portrait, moving slightly to get a different angle. 

“Its eyes follow you,” he tells WinWin. “Look.” 

WinWin stands beside Mark, trying to see what he sees. 

You stand back, looking around. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see movement. There’s nothing there when you turn your head, and you tell yourself that it was just a trick of shadow and light from the window at the other end of the hall. You would have believed it too, if not for you seeing it again before your head is even fully turned back around. You turn away as much as you possibly can while still able to slightly see out of the edge of your sight. 

A black cloaked figure lingers at the corner of the hallway, hovering just there, ready to duck out of sight again. You swear it’s the same one that had been in the library earlier, but that’s been hours ago now. 

You say nothing to either Mark or WinWin, just walking along with them, leaving that portrait behind. You find it’s actually rather easy to navigate your way back to your room, using the view from the windows to attempt to orient yourself. 

Mark and WinWin are too busy talking about the things they’ve seen while Mark was separated from the two of you, so neither of them notice that you’re still being followed. The Watcher makes sure to keep his distance, trying to be stealthy in tucking himself around corners, behind statues and doorways. You can feel him watching you in addition to the occasional glimpses you catch of him.

Only once you reach the landing on the spiral staircase, heading for the door to your rooms do you notice him walking blatantly up the stairs behind you.

You turn your head, looking at him over your shoulder, but the Watcher neither slows or speeds up, doesn’t show any sign of having been caught. He just quietly and steadily climbs the steps. You speed up, though. Your arm bumps against WinWin’s as you slot your hand into his, and he only pauses in talking to Mark for a moment to smile down at you.

Mark pushes open the door to your suite of rooms, WinWin follows him inside, and you look back at the Watcher just to find that he’s standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall with his hands folded in front of him. Waiting. Or standing on guard. Either way, he’s been following you, and as you step safely into the room and close the door behind you, there’s only one thing on your mind.

Why is he following you?

<-previous || next–>

[sqtorux]

a long nap

their reactions when you take a long nap and don't reply to them

includes: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna, yuji, megumi, yuta and toge

» requested !

[sonotpattismith]

we hereby conduct this postmortem. (yuta okkotsu x reader)

WARNING: MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS BELOW

word count: 7.8k (oops) warnings: angst, mentions of death, mourning, smut, Yuta in Gojo’s body, manga spoilers 18+ summary: reader attempts to cope with Yuta’s new body, mourning the loss of his previous one a/n: Hi!!! No one really requested this but Yuta is my man fr and this idea has been heavy on my heart 😮‍💨 Yuta is aged up in this as it made more sense for the point in their relationship they were already in. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I loved making it!

Life as a sorcerer was one littered with pain, fleeting hope, loss, and regret. These pitiful factors could practically be named the pillars of the damned lifestyle. You knew what you were getting into right when you joined, and you were reminded of it as your love held you close to his chest, his large hands secured over your head as if to cement you into his memory. Yuta pulled back just a hair, still clutching your head between his hands to look at you, fingers digging into your scalp gently as his long eyes fluttered around your face.

Through the haze of your tears, he appeared blurred. Still, you could make out the inescapable expression of fear that clutched his features. It wasn’t the battle he feared— far from it. He felt as though he could slash through an army at the moment. What gripped his mind and soul so fiercely though, was the thought of leaving you behind. His warm, dark eyes regarded you with care, taking in the way you clutched at his white shirt as if willing him not to go. It broke his heart.

“Everything’s going to be alright, my love.” Yuta assured gently, trying to keep his trembling voice leveled. He was well aware of the countless sorcerers surrounding them, allowing them the privacy of their intimate moment. They pretended not to watch— not to listen, but their hearts were collectively breaking for the pair before them. “It’ll be over before we know. We’ll go home. I’ll cook you something nice— maybe not burn it this time, huh?”

A laugh escaped you despite your tear soaked face. He smiled softly at the sound. The pads of his thumbs reached out to swipe the surface area of your cheeks before pulling you in softly. Your eyes closed as he placed a soft kiss to one eye, moving to the other and doing the same.

“I want the special rice—” you choked out, attempting to pull yourself together for him. Reaching out to run your fingers gently through the end of his hair, you clarified. “The one you had in Kenya.”

“Yeah? The pilau?”

You nodded softly and forced a smile. He laughed breathily at your reply and pressed his forehead against yours.

“Okkotsu?” Their peer that called out to him sounded apologetic to be interrupting the delicate moment, but, then again, there was a war to be won.

Without tearing his gaze from yours, he nodded in understanding. Leaning down with a certain determination in his energy, Yuta captured your lips in his. It was powerful, rough— desperate. His looming figure hunched over you, as if attempting to swallow you whole. Perhaps you would have been happier if he had.

It was the last time your lips felt those of Yuta Okkotsu.

You had been sent out as support, patrolling the area. Realistically, you knew there wasn’t much that you could contribute. While you served as a perfectly decent sorcerer— your techniques were nothing to be put up against the horrors that lied beyond the culling games. It was mainly a distraction. Your peers didn’t want you to watch the fight. They didn’t want your eyes to have to bear witness should your lover be slain that night.

For a few hours, you would get updates from them. First, it was that Kenjaku was dead. A silent tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly swiped it away as you thanked them for telling you. It was a victory— one of astronomical proportions, but the fight was far from over. After the second hour with no update— a small part of you already knew. After twenty more minutes of radio silence, you forced yourself to go back inside, despite the fear raging in you of what you may find.

As you entered silently, all heads snapped toward you. You knew. Without a word, you made your way back to where Shoko had set up her make-shift infirmary. It ended up being Kusakabe that called out to you— subtle warning in his tone. As if motivated by his attempted persuasion, a few more of your peers began to step forward, but, before they could reach you, you slipped into the dimly lit hallway. Yuta’s katana was leaning up against the wall beside the infirmary, unsheathed and bloodied. Through the sound of the blood rushing through your ears, you faintly heard a commotion stirring from outside the hall. Your mind was miles away from the beloved friends and colleagues gathered just outside though. Your fingers delicately grazed the hilt of his precious katana, wondering if they had to pry it from his stiff fingers.

One more step. It was terrifying— the sense of impending doom that echoed within the chasms of your mind. Just beyond this door frame, it would no longer be a fleeting ghost story whispered between two lovers— a worst case scenario— a horrifying ‘what if’ that was consistently followed by reassuring kisses and desperate love making. The shouting behind you was growing louder now, rushed footsteps pounding down the hall, screams of your name to not go in there, you don’t need to see it.

You took the final step. The healer stood in the middle of the room and seemed to be busying herself with cleaning. She was cleaning a body. Its mid section was cut off from your vision by her somewhat tense figure. Still, laid unceremoniously at the end of the steel stretcher, the unmistakable locks of dark hair your fingers had been buried in just hours prior. As if sensing your presence, Shoko shifted to see who had been watching her work. Her movements faltered when seeing the face of the stiff corpse’s lover. It was too late though, no matter how quickly she tried to adjust her position once again, the image had been burned into your mind— branded.

The body of Yuta Okkotsu lay bare on the examining table— or what was left of his body. It had been mutilated; your beautiful love’s temple disgustingly desecrated. The cavity of his chest was practically split open, slashes running down his once gorgeously cream skin. Even worse though— his head. It was split down his forehead. His paler than usual head was turned just fractionally toward the door. Your lover stared back at you, eyes unmoving, unloving, gone.

There was blood in your mouth. The iron tinging your taste buds was the only way you realized the visceral shriek that emitted from deep within your gut. Your realization didn’t stop you though, and neither did the pain in your throat as you ripped it to shreds once again, knees buckling underneath of you.

“Yuta!” You sobbed, voice eviscerated raw already. The hurried footsteps from outside seemed to finally reach you and, before you could process what was happening, there were hands everywhere. They were on your shoulders, at your elbows, over your eyes— doing anything to attempt to shield you from the sight before you, which you assumed they never intended for you to see in the first place. It was overwhelming: the attempted, hushed coos of comfort that all merged together to sound like the humming of angered bees just waiting to strike at you; the varying grips all pulling you in separate directions, all with the intent to just get you out of that room. Still, despite their efforts, through the gaps of their fingers and shoulders, Yuta’s dead eyes still stared hauntingly back at you.

Pushing against them all with a newfound strength, you fell against the unforgiving floor on your hands and knees, determined to reach him.

“Please, he wouldn’t want you to see him like this.” Kamo attempted to get through to you, his hand once again reaching for your shoulder.

“Don’t touch me.” Your wavering, sliced whisper caused his motions to falter for a moment before reaching out anyway. Another sob was ripped from your mouth at the feeling of hands everywhere again. “Please, please, I just need to hold him. Please. Let me hold him.”

“I told you all to make sure she didn’t come in here.” The commanding voice that spoke up had all five or six desperate individuals looking toward the door. Had you been more present in the moment, you would have recognized the voice. With your peers distracted, you crawled forward once again.

“My love,” The term of endearment reached your ears, making you pause. Wide eyes staring at Yuta’s still lips, you gaped silently. Shoko suddenly moved to cover his body with a sheet she’d retrieved, breaking you from your haze. Reaching out with trembling hands, you attempted to fist the sheet between your fingers. “Please, don’t do that.”

The individuals whose hands had been grappling with you just moments prior released you all together, before another set of firm, purposeful arms slid around your midsection. In mere seconds, you were being hauled up off the floor. For a moment, you were suspended mid air by unfamiliar arms. You thrashed around furiously until they set you down on your feet once again, and you turned to smack whoever it was that was still holding you back.

When the eyes of Satoru Gojo met yours— your movements faltered. A phantom, right before your very eyes. He was real though, you could see his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths, and the warmth radiating from his arms that were still wrapped uncharacteristically around you.

“Gojo—” It was all too much, as you tried to make sense of the scene before you, all the while in the midst of mourning— or attempting to come to grips with the fact that you should be mourning. You suddenly felt as though you might pass out. Steadying a hand on the firm chest before you, your face began to pale a bit. “How are you— what’s—”

Your words failed you though— and so did your body. Satoru leaned down quickly just as you began to slip away. It was too intimate— the way he was looking into your eyes, and the manner in which he held you to his chest. You wanted to push him away, but you felt weak. The snowy whisps of his white hair swayed as he scooped you up and brushed the hair from your forehead. You flinched away from him. As you looked up incredulously at him to question his inappropriate behavior, your eyes caught the scar running along his forehead.

“Everything is okay,” he murmured, but the voice wasn’t comforting, it was confusing as it fell upon your ringing ears. “I’m here, my love.”

The term snapped you from your chance, the murmuring and shuffling around the two of you coming at you in full force as if you’d just come up from underwater. Staring unblinkingly at the man before you, you watched as his piercing, blue eyes drooped softly and uncharacteristically into a haunting stare that was so unmistakably—

“Yuta?”

Following the closure of the grueling culling games, most sorcerers were granted substantial time to rest, and both you and Go— Yuta, were unarguably granted as well. After what you’d seen, what Yuta had subjected himself to for the sake of everyone’s safety, there was a quiet understanding that the pair needed time to adjust to one another again— to heal. As you walked into your shared apartment with the unfamiliar body behind you though, you couldn’t help but gulp down the lump in your throat.

Relieved wasn’t the sufficient word to use to describe how you felt upon learning Yuta was still alive. Granted, he was certainly alive in a very different way than he had been previously— but his soul was still with you. He was still there. Still, the anxiety and grief was eating you alive. You had seen his corpse, seen his lifeless eyes staring back at you. Yet you were still expected to latch onto him once again, resume your bond as if it hadn’t already been irreparably changed. It made you feel selfish— being so uncomfortable by the means by which he remained alive. You wouldn’t say it to him, not after all that he’d been through and the selfless way he sacrificed so much for his peers.

The door of your shared apartment shut behind you. A soft sigh of relief left you. When you last exited this familiar apartment, the two of you were unsure if you’d ever return to it again. A lone tear slipped down your cheek as Yuta set his katana against the wall and came up to grasp at your shoulders. His grip was firm— firmer than you ever remember it being. Feeling the tension in your muscles, he rubbed soft circles into them.

“You want me to start a shower for you, love?” He offered in that unfamiliar voice, his cheek grazing yours as he leaned down to meet your ear. Unable to speak, you simply nodded. With a soft kiss against your temple, he made his way down the hall and disappeared into your shared bathroom. The distance eased some of the pressure building in your chest, and you leaned back to rest against the wall.

How could this ever go back to normal? Gojo was a man who had watched your love grow together from the moment the both of you were introduced as mere teenagers. He’d given a horribly anxious Yuta advice on how to talk to you, given him money to take you on a nice first date before the boy had received his first stipend from the school. And now— now you were expected to live with him, to wake up to him every morning, make love to him. He wasn’t a stranger, but in a sense of closeness and intimacy, your body saw him as just that.

With a shaky sigh, you pushed off of the wall when you heard the shower running. Entering the bathroom with your towel folded over your arms, the steam from the shower enveloped you like a warm blanket. It invited you to wash away all the atrocities you’d faced in the past weeks. You placed your towel on the sink, but your pre-shower routine was cut short when you felt fingers grasping at the hem of your shirt to pull it up. A startled gasp escaped you, and you whipped around to face Yuta. He abruptly halted his attempts to undress you, staring at you with wide eyes. Much to your mortification, he was naked.

“Oh—” You stuttered out, staring up at the ceiling, at the wall behind him, anywhere but him. “Sorry. You— you can shower first.”

Yuta stopped you with a soft hand on your wrist as you moved to exit the bathroom. You were stiff before him, flinching away just barely noticeable as your arm made contact with his bare chest.

“Hey,” he said softly with a chuckle. It sounded a bit forced though— he sounded scared. “It’s just me, love. You can— you can look at me.”

Your head was still turned away from him as he pulled you closer against the stranger’s body, leaning down to press a delicate kiss against your cheek. Your eyes drifted and were met with your reflection in the mirror, wrapped up in the arms of Satoru Gojo. Following your gaze, his icy blue eyes met yours in the reflection. As if recognizing the apprehension in your expression, his face dropped a bit. Your heart clenched guiltily.

“S’okay,” Yuta attempted a nonchalant laugh, his strong arms loosening their grip on you. He gulped down the nausea that began to stir within him along with the pang of rejection. “Umm… I’ll be out in a minute. Why don’t you pick out a movie for us to watch, yeah? We’ve probably missed out on a bunch.”

With a soft nod and forced smile, you couldn’t have exited that small bathroom quick enough.

Time. You just needed some time.

Following your own, mind numbingly relaxing shower, you made sure to dry off and dress in the safe confines of the bathroom. You smiled softly at the feeling of the fluffy rug against your toes as you stepped into your very missed room. Yuta was already under the covers, remote in hand as he read the description of the movie you’d picked out. He was chewing absentmindedly at his bottom lip, a habit you’d never seen Gojo partake in before. It made you smile softly— something that was uniquely Yuta still shining through. His gaze snapped toward you while you stood hesitantly on the side of the bed. Smiling warmly, he opened up the blanket on your side of the bed in invitation, a faint glimmer of hope sparkling in his blue eyes.

“Yu, this shirt is…” Your comment drifted as you fingered at the tshirt spread too tightly across his broad chest. It clung to his bulging arms unnaturally, straining against the muscles.

A blush painted his pale cheeks, and you were once again put off by seeing the innocent expression on the face before you. He smiled sheepishly, looking down at himself.

“I know. None of my stuff really fits me anymore.” He explained bashfully, reaching up to scratch his head awkwardly. “Guess that means we can go shopping, and you can pick out all my clothes like you always wanted to, huh?”

You giggled softly at the idea. Truthfully, you were grateful he’d put the shirt on despite its tight fit. For the past few days, he didn’t even smell like himself anymore. But now, as you timidly shuffled closer to him and buried your head into his chest, you were able to inhale the lingering scent left behind by his previous body. It was the only thing keeping you huddled closely to his new one that night.

You dreamt of him that night— the old him. He was wrapped around you, his grip merciless as he clung onto you, as if you might float away. When you turned to look at him, the sight of his big, warm, puppy dog eyes filled your chest with butterflies. You recognized the scene, it was the first time you’d tended to him following a mission. Both of you unaware of the other’s feelings, timid in the way you brushed against one another, hyper aware of every breath and stare. As you dapped the alcohol-soaked cotton against his cheek, his shaky hands came up to grip innocently onto your waist. In truth, though you teased him relentlessly for it, he really just didn’t know what to do with his hands in the moment. When he saw the way your face burned under his touch, something had shifted between you— an understanding.

Your head burrowed deeper into the pillow below you as you were pulled from your slumber by the heavy hole in your chest. The arm strewn across your waist tighter around you, drawing you closer as he hummed. You smiled softly at the sound of him awakening. Shifting to catch a glimpse of those warm eyes that had just been plaguing your dreams, you were ripped from your trance. A startled yelp escaped you, sending you flying to the other end of the bed at the sight of the electric blue eyes staring back at you. In response, Yuta jumped out of bed with a start, staring at you in bewilderment.

“I— I’m sorry,” you cried breathlessly, not even feeling it when tears began to fall down your face. It was as if you could hear his heart break as he watched you. Running a trembling hand across your damp face, you attempted to calm your breathing. “I’m sorry, Yuta. It’s not your fault, I just—”

“You need time.” He finished softly for you.

For the following weeks, Yuta slept on the couch of your shared living room. It made you feel awful, coming out every morning to see him twisted uncomfortably on the furniture that was far too small to hold him in this form. You insisted that it should be you sleeping on it, given it was you who was so startled by the arrangement, but he refused to even hear of it. He said he’s always found the couch comfortable, but you knew that was about four inches and fifty pounds of muscle ago.

With the guilt knawing away at you, you made every effort to adjust to the dramatic change. The two of you watched your usual television shows on the couch together every night before he’d give you a longing goodnight kiss on the cheek and forehead. He never pushed you for more. You had just begun feeling somewhat comfortable enough to press quick, timid kisses on his lips every now and again, and he relished in each and every one of them like a man starved. It was evident in the way his eyes remained close and his lips chased yours each time you’d pull away.

He really did mean it when he said he wanted you to go shopping with him. After one too many ripped pants and boxer briefs in the trash, you insisted it be sooner rather than later. His wispy hair did a good enough job concealing the fading scar across his forehead while you two stepped out in public for the first time again. Being out of the stuffy apartment helped to ease the underlying tension that had grown between you. Yuta was making you laugh, charming you with his sheepish jokes and shy charisma— the type only he could pull off. It was good for you. You two walked from store to store, and you felt his pinky finger graze hesitantly against yours.

Looking up at him, you found his blue orbs already focused on you. They were wide, hopeful— asking for permission. Smiling softly at him, you silently carded your hand into his large one. It felt foreign, but the wide, excited smile that he tried to conceal seemed to mask any apprehension that bubbled within you. For the remainder of the day, Yuta walked with more confidence in his stride, pulling you giddily along with him wherever his attention drew him to.

It was a much needed break from the awkward push and pull you two had found yourselves in. So, when you returned to the apartment that night, you were almost scared to break that bubble. The two of you fell into your new routine, regarding each other friendly, showering separately. You were just gathering your things when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel hung loosely around his waist. Quickly averting your gaze, you muttered an apology as you attempted to step past him.

“Hey,” he called softly, stepping to the side to block you from entering the restroom. You felt his fingers clutch your chin and turn you to face him. His platinum hair clung to his face, droplets of water spilling onto his chiseled face. A blush rose to your cheeks at the sight. An amused smile fell easily on his lips. “You haven’t blushed like this looking at me since we were in high school.”

Your brows furrowed at his words, envious on the way he seemed to be unable to find the insanity of the situation. His damp hand ran down the side of your neck, creeping over your shoulder and arm until he grasped one of your hands in his. His intense gaze stayed focused on you as he brought your hand up to place on his chest, softly running it down his abdomen.

“I want you to… be comfortable with me again. Be able to look at me again.” He mumbled, his chest beginning to rise and fall more dramatically at the sensation of your hands exploring him once again. You gulped, your fingers catching on the scar that circled all the way across his stomach, sides, and back. It made you tear away from your hesitation, finally allowing yourself to look down at his sculpted body. You circled your finger tentatively around the jagged scar, your other hand creeping up to test the waters in feeling the wet ripples of his abs. Yuta seemed to tremble under your touch, a soft moan falling from his lips at the sensation. It snapped you from your haze. It felt wrong, hearing Gojo’s voice like this, thinking of his body in such a way. You withdrew your hands from him.

“Time.” you quickly reminded him, refocusing your gaze on his face again. His lips were parted, eyes half lidded but blown out with a lustful haze. You darted past him and into the bathroom, hearing him repeat it breathlessly as you closed the door.

“Time.”

You were still a bit shaken up when you exited your shower, pacing the room pensively as you clung to your towel. Looking around, you noticed the small, discarded pile of Yuta’s old shirts that he’d likely just removed from his drawers to make room for his new ones. You smiled fondly at the sight. Picking one up, you brought it up to your face and inhaled deeply. Though evidently fading, his smell still clung to it. It was faint though, so faint that it made your eyes water as you clutched desperately at the material. He was slipping away, every part of him, and all you could do was watch as each bit was replaced. Shoving the discarded shirts into your own drawer for safe keeping, you shed your towel and slipped one over your head before climbing into bed, relishing in the soft, familiar smell that graced your senses.

After a moment or so, there was a gentle knock at the door. Yuta poked his head in and smiled hesitantly at you.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he greeted softly, stepping fully into the dim room. “I just… I wanted to say goodnight to you. You okay?”

You nodded with a sad smile, blinking rapidly to stop more tears from manifesting in your traitorous eyes. Humming softly, he sat on the edge of the bed and grasped your head between his large hands before leaning in to press a gentle kiss against each eye.

“Goodnight, my love. I love you always.”

You couldn’t stop the silent sob that wracked your body as he turned to return to the living room for the night. It was pathetic, the way you continued to mourn for the man sat just outside your grasp. Just moments ago, you stood in tears, willing him not to slip away, yet you were allowing just that.

“Yuta?” Your meek voice made him turn around in question. “Can you… can you come to bed?”

His face lit up the dark room, moonlight illuminating the way his blue eyes seemed to spark at your request.

“Y-Yes, yeah!” He stammered out, looking around eagerly. The man seemed to trip over his own legs as he made his way to the door, holding a reaffirming hand out in front of him. “Hold on, I’m gonna grab my pillows— don’t move!”

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but laugh at the way he still didn’t seem to have full control over his new body yet— at least not when he was buzzing with the excitement of a teenage boy. Just seconds later, he barreled back into the room, slamming the door behind him and eagerly jumping into his side of the bed. The both of you giggled at the way the bed creaked under his sudden weight. As the laughter subsided, he stared breathlessly at you, eyes gleaming.

“Do you think it’d be okay if I held you tonight?”

Your lips began to tremble at the pained vulnerability in his timid request. Without answering, you scooted closer to him, and he quickly opened his arms for you to tuck yourself against his chest. His chest heaved with a sigh of relief at the feeling of holding you close again. All too soon, he felt his eyes begin to droop despite his burning desire to stay awake and just be with you for a little longer. You were both fast asleep within seconds.

With his old shirt and scent wrapped around your frame, your subconscious couldn’t help but manifest him just as it had remembered him. Again, it was a familiar scene— the night before you two left your apartment for the final time. Before— what happened to him. His dark hair hung lazily over his face as he desperately grinded into you. A gasp over took you at the feeling of him entering you. Your fingernails raked mercilessly across his chest, squeezing the firm slab of muscle there. Yuta whined at the soft stinging that accompanied this action, but it only spurred him on. He wanted to mold himself to you, become one with your body. You helplessly moaned out his name.

Back in reality, beside you, Yuta was stirred from his own peaceful slumber by your shallow, whiny breaths. Your body practically trembled against him, your fingers grasping at the arm that circled your waist.

“Yuta.” Your soft moan filled his ears, making all the blood in his body rush down to the uncharted territory below his waistband. The manner in which you writhed desperately against him did nothing to calm the storm brewing in his pants. Gulping roughly, he allowed his hand to wander from your thigh up to your side, slipping under the thin fabric of your shirt— his shirt. It was the only thing donned on that trembling body of yours save for your underwear. You looked ethereal with the barely risen, morning sun kissing at your supple skin. Leaning down, he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, dragging his lips down to peck and lap aimlessly at your neck. You arched into him, rousing from your sleep with a gentle moan of his name.

“Yeah?” The man mumbled against the back of your neck, gently rutting into your ass from behind you. The wandering hand that had slipped up your shirt grazed over the lush skin of your breast before squeezing it gently between his fingers. A whimper fell from your lips. “Let me take care of you, my love, hm?”

You could only nod breathlessly, and, in an instant, he disappeared under the covers, eagerly shifting you onto your back. Typically, Yuta was a soft, gentle lover— slow in his care for your body. He loved taking his time with you, savoring each sound he could pull from you with each inch of skin he explored. Now though, as he found himself face to face with one of his favorite parts of you for the first time in weeks, he had no patience.

Wrapping his strong arms around your thighs, he shoved his face into your clothed core. A high strung moan ripped up your chest and out your throat as he mouthed lazily over you for a while, wetting the already damp fabric with his drool. Getting tired of the damned barrier, he wanted to taste you for real. In hasty motions, he ripped your underwear down your legs before settling against his breakfast once again.

“Yuta!” You gasped, face reddening with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins. He moaned against you at the sound of his name falling from your lips again. His hips involuntarily rutted against the mattress, but he stopped himself. This was about you.

Your fingers trembled, making their way under the sheets to grip his hair firmly. His head swayed side to side as he ravished you, drinking up everything you were willing to give him. Your hips bucked up to grind against his face, making the sheet fall down his back. Looking down, you were met with the sight of Satoru Gojo between your legs, lapping lewdly at your sensitive core as if it gave him life itself, as if it made the sun and the moon and brought all the stars to the night sky.

His eyes opened upon feeling your gaze on him. Those piercing blue eyes that you were becoming so accustomed to regarded you with a deep lust, a carnal desire that had your release creeping up your toes, into your legs and torso, to the very center of your mind.

No, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t come undone like this. It was so wrong, and you felt as though some part of you was betraying Yuta, despite the fact that he was the very man currently worshiping you with his tongue. You partly wondered if he knew what was going through your head right now, watching as his brows suddenly furrowed and his grip on your thighs tightened with a newfound determination. With a harsh, loud suck to your clit, his gaze demanded to be met as you tipped over the edge. Your back arched up with a deafening cry, all the while Yuta’s lips hungrily laid open mouthed kissed against your core as you came down. He caught your clit gently between his lips, pulling at it a fraction before releasing it.

You were gasping for breath, trying to catch yourself before you passed out in an overwhelmed haze. Yuta licked a final, loving stripe up your folds before peppering kisses up your trembling body. Sliding a hand under the arch of your back, he abruptly sat you up with a strength unfamiliar to you. You landed atop his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck to catch yourself before you fell back.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whimpered, capturing your lips against his desperately. They were still wet from their assault against you. Between rushed kisses, he gasped out against your lips. “So beautiful, my love. You’re everything to me.”

You moaned against him at the sound of his familiar praises, pressing your chest against his. He broke from you for barely a millisecond, tossing his shirt over his head before grappling for you once again. His hands found their natural place on your waist, gripping firmly as he brought you down to grind against his straining manhood. Gasping at the sensation of your folds sliding against his thick length, you reached up to grasp at the ends of his hair as you always did. It hit you then, as your fingers grazed the slowly growing hairs of an undercut, that you were about to make love to someone else. Breaking from him with a gasp, you looked at the man before you. His eyes were practically glowing, drinking you in in a manner that told you his thoughts were positively filthy at the present. Closing them once again, he chased your lips with a determined hand against your jaw. You flinched away. Slowly opening his eyes again, he watched in horror as you climbed off of his lap and stood from the bed, looking around for a pair of shorts.

“W-Wait!” Yuta gaped, practically tripping over himself to follow you out of the bedroom.

You pretended not to hear the desperate confusion in his tone, pretended it didn’t squeeze at your chest with guilt. Opening the fridge, you busied yourself grabbing ingredients to make you two a quick breakfast. He called out your name softly, dejected. Bracing yourself, you glanced back at him. His massive frame was hunched in on itself, and his eyes looked so hurt you could practically shoot yourself in the foot for being the cause of it.

“What are you doing?” Yuta breathed quietly, watching as you spread all the ingredients onto the counter.

“I’m making omelets. You want cheese on yours?” You asked over your shoulder, grabbing a bowl from the cabinet for mixing.

“What? No, I—” He could feel the irritation rising in his chest, and he had to take a deep breath before continuing. Stepping closer so he was right behind you, he grasped your wrist softly to halt your rushed movements. “Baby, I miss you.”

“I’m right here, Yu.” You whispered, unable to meet his unwavering gaze. You heard him sigh in frustration at your response.

“No, love,” he pleaded, grasping your hips to press you roughly against the ever present bulge in his sweatpants. Releasing a shaky breath, he snaked a hand across your collarbone before lining it with hot kisses. “I miss you.”

“Yuta,” you protested, slipping away from his grasp. “I’m sorry, I just need—”

“Time?” He cried out, tears welling up in his sad, wide eyes. “You can take all of my time— have all of it! But please just— please look me in the eyes and tell me I’ll still get you back at the end of it.”

“I’m trying!” You sobbed, smacking at his bare chest. He took it all without so much as a flinch. “I’m trying but every time I look at you all I can see is—”

“I’m not Gojo! I’m right here, I’m me. Look at me!”

“Well I don’t recognize you anymore, Yuta!”

His response got caught in his throat. Those glittering blue, six eyes watched as you fell to the floor, clutching your hands to your face. Gentle sobs shook your frame as you curled in on yourself. Yuta stood before you, unsure if touching you would be helpful or not right now.

“I saw your body, Yuta. Your head was split open. Your eyes were lifeless! I accepted that you were dead!” You felt a hesitant hand come down on your back. He slowly sat beside you on the floor. “And then you come back, and you have a new face, a new voice, you even smell different. You’re bigger and you’re stronger, and you’re not my Yuta anymore, okay? You wanted everything to go back to normal but it’s not.”

“I just… I don’t see Yuta anymore.”

Both of you agreed that you needed some time apart that day. Yuta insisted that you be the one to stay home, but you convinced him that you needed time outside of the apartment.

You found yourself in front of Shoko, who regarded you with surprise at your sudden request.

“I want to see his body.”

She blinked a few times at you, slowly. Not even Yuta himself had bothered asking what it was that they did with his body. When he came to, the only thing that was on his mind was the overwhelming relief that he’d be able to come back to you. As the healer looked over your bloodshot eyes, and the dried tears on your face as you clutched at the old t-shirt covering you, she understood what you really needed.

You blinked down at the simple grave before you. It was large, marbled and domed. It had Gojo’s name on it.

“Is this some sort of joke?” You asked breathily, your brows furrowing in anger. A fiery glare was shot in the direction of the woman standing beside you. “Where is his body?”

“Right in front of you.”

“Then why isn’t his name on here?”

“Because Yuta Okkotsu isn’t dead.” Shoko stated flatly, eyes steady on you. “Satoru Gojo is.”

The words sank into your soul as you slowly looked back up at the name etched onto the grave. It was the name of the man you were sure you had been betraying your lover with for a month. Yuta— his former body rested here, but no one mourned for him here. No, this is where they came to mourn Satoru Gojo. You were the only one who had ever mourned for Yuta.

“Satoru Gojo is dead, and the man waiting for you at home loves you— no matter the flesh that wraps his soul.”

You cried the whole way home, but, this time, your tears weren’t being shed in mourning. Rather, they fell down your face in hot streams of guilt. Yuta had been so understanding, so patient with you. He had gone through so much, lost his body, lost his mentor, his friend. The only thing he asked in return was to live the rest of his life with you once again— and you couldn’t look past the flesh attached to his kind heart.

Slowly creaking open the door of your apartment, there was music flowing softly through the air of your shared apartment. Over the rhythm, you could hear the clashing of pots and the clinking of utensils. There was a faint smell of smoke filling the room as well. Shutting the door behind you, you cautiously made your way to the kitchen, gaze melting at the scene before you.

There was an apron tied haphazardly around Yuta’s waist. It was too small on him— straining against his broad, muscular chest. The smell of smoke seemed to be coming from the large pot that was practically vibrating on the stovetop, angrily hissing at the chef, who was too distracted trying to set a pair of plates and cutlery neatly on the small dining table. He was cursing under his breath, white eyebrows pulled up and together in a concerned, puppy-dog like stare. You giggled from behind your hand. His head shot up at the sound.

“No, babe— gah!” Your lover was cut off as he tried to grab the lid off the top of the smoking pot before abruptly dropping it, seemingly burned from its hot surface. It clattered against the stove noisily. “You weren’t supposed to be home yet— shit!”

He paced the length of the kitchen, bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet as he ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. The mannerisms— they were so undeniably Yuta Okkotsu. Smiling fondly, you stepped forward to turn the stove off, making him grumble in disapproval.

“I-I was trying to make us pilau.” He pouted, those wide, puppy dog eyes taking in the sight of you. Despite the commotion you had walked into, he was relieved that you came back to him.

“Yeah?” You questioned with an amused smile, reaching behind him to untie the apron from his back and pulling it over his head. Your hands replaced the ties around his neck, pulling him down toward you. It was gonna take you a while to adjust to this sudden, more exaggerated height difference. “What happened to you not burning it this time?”

The pale skin of his neck and cheeks flushed under your intense gaze, making him chuckle nervously. It was evident in the tentative manner he slid his hands around your waist that he was unsure of what you’d be comfortable with.

“Are you gonna come down here, or are you gonna make you climb all six feet of you?”

His Adam’s Apple bobbed against his taut neck, a boyish grin spreading across his lips as he shook his head.

“I have a better idea.”

In one quick motion, he squatted down to grab the backs of your thighs and toss them high around his waist. You gasped at the abrupt motion, clinging around his chest like a spider monkey. He wasn’t even holding onto you as he began walking the both of you to your room. No, his hands were instead grasped on the sides of your head, pulling you into him for a desperate kiss. Shutting the door behind him with his foot, he turned to sit on the edge of the bed, your comparably smaller frame still attached to him.

You fell slowly into his lap, biting at his lips with an unanticipated fervor. Your hands grazed under the hem of his shirt, palms freely exploring the planes of his chest and shoulders. He whimpered under your delicate touch, breaking away from you only to allow you to pull the fabric off of him. Pushing back on his firm shoulders, he fell back against the bed with a huff, watching with bated breath as you kissed each inch of new skin you were presented with. You wanted to commit him to memory— learn the new ways to make him gasp and whimper in that way only Yuta could pull off. As you traversed down his abdomen, he reached down and yanked the hem of your loose shirt over your head, groaning at the sight of your bare chest that he’d missed so much.

Just as your lips grazed the hem of his sweatpants, he sat up abruptly to stop you.

“No, I can’t— I just need you right now.” He rasped, grasping at your waist to toss you down onto the bed.

“Jesus, Yu!” You gasped as your body bounced with the impact. He grinned sheepishly at you as he stumbled out of his sweats before crawling over your body.

“I’m sorry… not used to it yet.” He apologized before grazing his hand over your clothed core, sighing pathetically at the wetness that met his digits. Your teeth were clashing together as the two of you sloppily kissed each other— a bundle of gasps and moans. He molded himself against you as he dragged your soiled panties down your legs before standing up to remove his boxers. You tried not to stare— you really did. The last thing you wanted him to think was that you found his previous parts insufficient. Lord help you though, because— now? Yuta was massive. Watching your apprehensive expression as you took in his new, bare body, he grabbed your hips.

“Come here.” He commanded gently, easily lifting you up to sit on his lap. You both gasped as your core bumped against his painfully hard length. It was a bit embarrassing— the way he was able to wrap one arm around your waist to hold you up as the other gripped his length. The thought of all the different ways he could use this newfound strength sent bubbling excitement straight down to your core. “Take what you can, pretty girl.”

His compassionate words, even as he had you hovered over his desperately touch deprived cock warmed your heart. You nodded wordlessly, mouth falling open as he slowly lowered you onto him. Your nails dug into his shoulder to cope with the slow burning sensation that filled your core as he unconsciously bucked up into you. Before long, you were fully sheathed over his weeping member.

A long whine fell from his lips as your ass met his thighs. The sound was deeper than his usual, pitchy moans that you’d come to love, and it made a heat spread through your chest. You shifted to adjust your thighs in order to begin moving against him, desperate for any sort of friction after the long period of waiting for you to adjust to his new size, but he stopped you. Large hands came up to grip under your ass, lifting you up with ease to grind you against his already twitching length.

“Allow me, my love.”

Okay, maybe you could get used to this Yuta.

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[viasdreams]

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

shutting johnny down after he reaches out

⊹ this is part 2, you can read part 1 here!!

a/n: thank you to all the ppl that left plot suggestions in my inbox!! i <3 you !!!

fake text m.list ☁︎⋅

[siriusly-parker]

—hit me hard and soft.

billie eilish-inspired song fics!

“skinny.” — yuuji itadori x ex!chubby!reader

“i could eat that girl for lunch!” — jjk boys smau

“man, am i the greatest.” — satoru gojo, angst, hurt/comfort

“birds of a feather.” — megumi fushiguro, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

“wildflower.” — yuuta okkotsu, angst

“l’amour de ma vie.” + “blue.” — suguru geto, his pov, angst, post-defection consequences and reminiscing on the sweet sweet past