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starcrossedreaders · 11 months

Note

HELLO! I noticed that your requests are open AAAAH! BUT before i will tell you mine i need a silent minute to appreciate your work. ......

THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOUR WRITING STYLE, YOUR CREATIVITY, YOUR MIND, YOUR BODY, YOUR FAMILY, YOUR MOM, YOUR DAD AND OF COURSE FOR YOU!!!! because your writing style?! Im always kicking my feet how you picture Leon skdjdkdnrekekddjfj. So umm yeeah my request, if you will so kindly agree with writing it down, your majesty. KABEDON!🧎‍♀️ Yeah you saw right KA-BE-DON. I, because i love, once again your writing style, let your fantasy bring out the best of you! Love you and now i will, finally take my leave. (I dont want to pressure you so, if i can, feel free to ignore this! And sorry if there was some kind of a mistake! English is not my first language tee hee) SENDING LOVE 🦫

Author's Note: KABEDON!!! Whenever I think of Leon and kabedon I can only picture a cocky RE2 STEP BRO LEON. So that's what I just wrote :) and Im not sorry. ENJOY!

Warnings: StepBro!Leon, stepcest Fem implied reader. Oral male receiving, sloppy toppy, cursing, uses of names like whore and slut Leon being a meanie weenie :(

Summer was always a dreadful time for you. Divorced parents were nothing to take lightly, especially when your mom packed her bags and moved across the country. In that short period of time, she found a wonderful husband who just also happens to have a son your age. Leon, the biggest asshole you have ever met in your lifetime.

These first few weeks have been awful, the teasing and bullying were getting on your nerves. Today was going to be no different. Your mom and Leon's dad went off to work in the early hours of the day, leaving you two alone once again.

Rolling over in your bed you could hear Leon's loud music playing in the garage. Looking at the time on your phone you groaned. 8:30 in the morning and he's already working on that damn Jeep. Whoever told him that building a Jeep was a great idea is stupid.

Rolling out of bed you lazily put on some shorts. Swinging your door open the cool A/C greeted you. Basking in the cool air you took your time to walk to the connected garage.

When you opened the door loud music spilled into the quiet house. Scanning the garage you were met with Leon's back contorting with each movement. The garage door was open and his Jeep was parked half-way into the garage. Leon was ducked under the hood as he worked on something. His t-shirt was tucked into his jean pocket. His other pocket had an assortment of tools. You watched as a bead of sweat ran down his neck onto his back, entranced by his tan skin and muscled back.

Cringing at the thoughts that ran through your head you walked down the few steps and stormed over to his speaker and slammed down on it, abruptly stopping the music.

"Good morning to you too," Leon wasn't phased one bit. This wasn't the first time you've done this to him these past weeks.

"Seriously Leon, you're going to wake up the whole fucking neighborhood." You watched as Leon worked on the engine hands on your hips.

He twisted his arm to tighten a bolt before he carefully ducked out from under the hood. Grabbing a work rag he turned around and leaned on the car. Leon gave you a look of annoyance but you were too busy admiring his arms.

As he wiped the grease off of his hands his forearms would twist causing his veins to reveal themselves. Trailing your eyes up you tracked his defined collarbone and dragged your eyes down to his chest. His v-line hid behind his boxers. His jeans hung off his hips showing the elastic of boxers. Sweat dripped down his chest down to his grease-covered stomach. He had noticeable abs that moved as he pushed himself off of the car.

Leon watched as you practically undressed him with your eyes. The smirk that adorned his face was almost cocky if it weren't for his boyish features that still remained. To enamored by your thoughts you didn't notice Leon push off of his Jeep and stalk over to you.

Before you could chastise Leon again your back hit the wall as a soft don rang to the left side of your head. Leon's musk scent wafted to your nose as his body heat radiated into you. Your nose bumped into his chest as you looked up at him. Leon was already looking down at you with that stupid smirk on his face.

"Y'know it's not nice to stare, especially at your own brother." His voice was deep and husky. His hot breath fanned over your face.

Scoffing you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting, besides it's not like you're my actual brother."

Leon clicked his tongue. "I wasn't the one staring sweetheart." The name made your stomach twist and thigh squeeze together.

"Whatever, just keep the music down." You tried to duck under Leon's arm to leave this awful situation.

Before you could make your escape Leon's hand wrapped around your hair and shoved you to your knees. The hard cement bit into your knees as you slammed to the floor. Leon's hand held the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. He angled your head so you looked up at him. His other hand came down and cupped your cheek. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip before he pushed it into your mouth.

"God, you look so good on your knees little sis." A groan lay dormant in the back of his throat.

Your eyes scanned over his body trying to avoid his icy blue stare. Trailing down to his groin you were met with his member tight in his jeans. Your eyes widened at the sight.

"See what you do to your brother. Walking around in those skimpy shorts. You're practically begging to get bent over and fucked." His lewd words made your pussy clench around nothing as the hot arousal made your head heavy and full of want and need.

Pulling his thumb out of your mouth his hand went up to his jeans and unzipped them. He pumped his dick a few times before he pulled the raging cock out of its confinements. It sprang out, tip red and oozing pre-cum. The sight made your mouth water, but everything about this was wrong. So so wrong but in that moment any and all reason went out of the door.

Grabbing your jaw he pried your mouth open with ease. "Stick it out," His voice was dark and filled with command. Your nipples harden against your shirt as Leon's uncut cock neared your mouth.

Listening to him you stuck your tongue out and looked up at him, eyes glossed over. The sight made him twitch.

“What a good girl you are, helping your big bro out.” He tapped his tip on your tongue twice.

Strands of salty pre-cum stick to your tongue before Leon slowly slid his dick in your mouth. It was huge, to say the least. He stretched your jaw wide open leaving it to soon ache. For Leon though, your mouth was heaven to him.

Your tongue wrapped around his dick closing your mouth around him as the tip hit the back of your throat. Gagging tears brimmed your eyes before Leon quickly pulled out of your mouth.

Hissing Leon’s deep voice rattled through you. “Fuck you’re such a fucking slut. Now suck it.” He tapped his dick on your mouth once before he put both hands on the wall above you for stability.

Doing as told you gripped his cock. He was so thick, the thought of him being inside of you sent stars to your vision and slick between your legs. Bring his dick towards your mouth you kiss the tip. This simple action had Leon groaning and throwing his head back.

“Fuck don’t be a tease.” Rolling your eyes you left small kitten licks along him.

You wish his pants were down, you wanted no, needed to taste his balls. Moaning you sucked his tip in your mouth. Your moans vibrated up to his balls, Leon let out a shaky breath curling one of his hands into a fist. He was just so big in your mouth. Your jaw ached as your clit pulsed with need.

“G-god, your mouth.” His words were shaky. He rolled his hips pushing his cock further in your mouth.

You move your hands on his thighs for support as you take him deeper. In one go Leon grabbed the back of your head making a makeshift ponytail as he shoved the rest of his dick in your mouth. He moaned at the overwhelming feeling as you gagged. His tip kissed the back of your throat, gagging you. Your nose was met with his curls at the base of his cock.

“Look at you, taking my big cock so well.” He watched as you coughed. Pulling your head back he watched as his pre-cum and drool fell dripping down your chin.

Pulling you off of him he gave you a moment to breathe before he was shoving himself right back into your mouth. His tip teased the back of your sore throat once more. Salty tears ran down your cheeks as your hole turned syrupy. You grinded down on nothing with need.

“Goddamn. Look how pretty you look, letting me throat fuck you like the whore you are.” Leon’s hungry eyes pierced into you.

“Didn’t know my sister was such a slut.” His words had you squeezing your eyes shut the further he fucked down into your throat.

“M’gonna cum.” Your muffled moans clouded Leon’s vision.

“Yea? I’m gonna paint your pretty little throat and you’re going To .Take. Every. Ounce.” WIth each word he slammed his tip in the back of your throat.

“Fuckfuckfuckkk.” With one last thrust his cock was throbbing as white cum spurted out painting the back of your throat as promised.

He slowly slid his sensitive cock out of your mouth leaving a trail of salty cum in his wake. When he pulled it out his dick went limp as his blue eyes went soft. Cupping your cheek he wiped your tears away as your cringed, swallowing his seed.

“Such a good girl.” Wiping your mouth Leon helped you up and even handed you a bottle of water.

The cold water soothed your sore throat, turning towards Leon you pointed. "What happened just now stays between us. Our parents can't know." Your voice was stern and laced with a plea.

Leon only scoffed before he smirked. "What? It's not like I'm your actual brother." His mocking tone pushed each one of your buttons.

"Besides I'm sure the neighbors heard you choking on my big fat co-" You were quick to cut Leon off.

"Stop!" You groaned in embarrassment and stormed off to the few steps leading into the house Leon hot on your heels. Before you could twist the door knob he grabbed your arm.

"Hey," His voice was soft as you turned to look at him.

"I promise this stays between us, no one will know not even Chris." You scanned his face body sagging before you said. "Thank you."

Smiling he took one step up to you. Cupping your face in between his hands his blue eyes scanned over your features before he leaned in a pressed a soft and sweet kiss to your lips.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Taglist: @hermizery @alewesker @ballorawan740 @lastaceylia00 @chunnies @d10nsaint @darklinxx

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ichatake · 13 days

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Hii! Can I request a Kakashixreaderxobito fic where the reader is helping Obito “re enter” society and they basically become best friends( but Kakashi starts to feel weird about it because he actually fell for the reader too (but refuses to accept love because duh) ya know, some angst to get through the week 🕺 I hope that makes sense hahaha thank youuu so much! 🫶

Requests are open! (Request rules)

A/N: This is one of my longest works I’ve ever made tee hee. I really hope you enjoy!! (Sorry it seems a little rushed :( )

Summary: Obito, after surviving the war was allowed back into the village. You made it your mission to make sure he gets completely rehabilitated. However, a certain someone gets jealous at the loss of attention.

Pairing: Obito x reader x kakashi

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It was a process. Everything that came after the war was a process. Great ninjas were lost, and some were found. Heartbreaks and heartwarmths were felt by all the people who were affected by this dreadful event. However, they sought to move forward, and push the formidable thoughts away. Because there was no time for regret, but only determination to bring back the villages—the families that were caught in the hellfire.

You had thankfully survived the war right along with some of your comrades. You had lost some to the Ten Tailed beast, but you knew the only way to honor their lives was to remember them for the outstanding ninjas they were. They had fought their final battle alongside you, and it was time for them to rest as the brave heroes they were. Your heart had been shattered by everything that had occurred—the deaths and the revelations. The revelation of the man who seemed like the spitting image of a boy you once knew. A kind, sweet boy that strived to become the Hokage. A boy with dreams so big, he’d do anything to achieve them. Obito Uchiha.

It shattered you to see who he had become, and why he had become this new person. It hurt how he didn’t think of himself as Obito Uchiha, but as someone else. He lived as someone else. It broke you a little, because you couldn’t wrap your head around this. How could this man—the boy you once admired when you were both at the academy—become so heartless. You couldn’t understand it. However, as if the universe was trying to put the pieces back in place, Obito had a change of heart. You thank Naruto for this—you didn’t know how the boy did it, but he always managed to get into people’s hearts. And just like Sasuke, Obito was welcomed—with very hesitant open arms, back into the leaf village.

Of course, this wasn’t an easy process. There were still people who didn’t trust him, and wanted nothing to do with him. It was a hard decision to make, but everyone deserves a second chance. So, the decision was made. He would be welcomed back to the village on the conditions of having someone watch him at all times—or as they called it—being under supervision. This was, to Obito, reasonable. He had been one of the main causes of the war, so the least he could do was accept this with a good heart. The difficult part was searching for someone who would actually agree to watch him. They needed a strong ninja. One that could put Obito in his place if he ever did anything remotely threatening. They thought Kakashi would’ve been the perfect candidate, but he was now the Hokage.

However, they never expected you to volunteer. You were a great ninja. Strong, smart, truthful. You were fit for the job, sure, but they were hesitant to just let you supervise him. But, after some convincing, you were allowed to take Obito under your wing, and trust me, it was a hard process. This man had been socially secluded. He was hated by most of the villagers, and he could see it. Anytime he walked down the roads of Konoha, the people would glare and snarl at him. He was a monster to them, and he knew that. He was difficult to crack open. I mean, did you really expect him to be just like he was when he was a kid? Of course not, you knew better than that.

You would always notice how his eyes landed on the ground, and he walked with his head low. You also knew he was slightly embarrassed of his scars. They were permanent proof of everything that had happened since the beginning. How could you get him used to society again? Had you volunteered to do this with blind eyes?

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“Are you hungry?” You asked as you searched around in the kitchen. You didn’t think the ‘have him under your supervision at all times’ rule was going to be this strict. I mean, he was living with you now. It’s been about two weeks since he’s been in your house, and he’s still tense. The unfamiliar atmosphere was just… not easy to get used to. At least for him. He wasn’t used to people, or kindness, or just… this.

“No,” he mumbled while he sat tensely on the dining chair. He looked like a black dot on a white sheet of paper. He didn’t quite fit in anywhere. You’ve tried to get him to speak more, but the most you get out of him a day is a few polite sentences. That’s it.

You frown, looking back at him as he looks out the window, “well you have to eat something. You can’t just go without eating for long hours,” you say as you lean on the counter, “how about we get some ramen, I bet you’d—,”

“I don’t want to go out,” he quickly cut you off, his head snapping towards you. Although the action might’ve seemed rude, his tone was soft, and… tired. He genuinely didn’t want to go out. Not that it surprises you. This isn’t the first time he’s refused to leave the house.

You sigh and rub your face, not out of frustration, but because you were thinking of a way to convince him, “I know that you don’t like going out—I understand, but you’ll make no progress being stuck in here with me,” you look at him to see a reaction, but his face still held that frown you hated to see. “I mean, sure, you can stay here if you want to, but you already know I’m not good at conversation. I’m pretty boring,” you chuckle, your attempts to lighten the mood were pretty bad.

You walk over to the dining table and sit across from him, crossing your legs and looking out the window, “you’ll have more fun outside than in here. Unless you want me to bore you with some of my life stories,”

His brow was raised with curiosity, his interest being peeked, “Maybe not,” he says and sits a little straight, his body turning to face you. You were surprised at this, just a little. He had never made an effort to keep the conversation going. He usually just stayed quiet or gave dry responses.

“Oh come on, you definitely don’t want to hear that,” you chuckle nervously, but his eye never left yours. “We don’t know that,”

“Okay then…,” you pause for a moment before continuing what you were going to say, “I’ll tell you about a few things, and if you're not bored out of your mind, we can stay here for the rest of the day. If you are, however, we’re taking a walk,” you say, although you knew that even if he was fed up with your blabbering, he’d still prefer that over going out. With a nod, he agreed to your offer and listened attentively.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Hours had passed since the offer. It turns out, you weren’t really bored at all. At least, in his eyes. You two hadn’t spoken since his ‘death’ so he had missed out on a lot of things. It was interesting to hear all of the stories you had. You were… cool. He thought. Yeah, you weren’t half as bad as he thought you were, no offense. He caught himself wanting to know more, nodding and interrupting you sometimes to just ask about certain things. To you, this was a massive win! He seemed to be getting used to you, and he was warming up a little.

“So you teach?” He asks, amusement laced his voice, “what? Is that really absurd?” You raise a brow, crossing your arms slightly while he gently waved his hand over his face, “No, no, I just remember you as a bad teacher,”

“A bad—excuse me?” You gasp with fake offense, which made him crack a smile. Your heart almost stopped because this was the first time he smiled since he got here. “I’m just saying, remember that time I asked you to teach me about a specific Jutsu?” He asks and you nod your head, “well, I have great memories of you shaking your head in disappointment and telling me I was doing it all wrong,” he looks at you and almost cracks a chuckle,

“Okay, I was young alright? I didn’t have the patience I have now,” you chuckle and shake your head, “so, for your information, I’m a very good teacher,”

He made an expression that screamed ‘suuuure’, which made you laugh, “oh, come on, don’t look at me like that,”

He shrugs, “I’ll believe that when I hear it from your students,” he says, not expecting anything to come from it, but a lightbulb had just been lit in your mind, “Alright, then let’s go talk to them,”

His eye suddenly widens as you say this, “what?” He watches you as you stand up and grab your keys. “Lets go talk to them so you see what a good teacher I am,” you say with your hands on your hip.

“I— I didn’t really mean it like that. It was just a joke—,”

“Joke or not, you deserve to meet them. Come on, they’ll love you,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

With a lot of convincing, you had gotten Obito to go outside. He was once again going into shut off mode. He didn’t speak and his eyes were glued to the ground. However, you wanted him to look forward to going out, so you tried your best to make him comfortable. “You see, they’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” you say to catch his attention. He slightly looks up from the ground, to look at you. You were a few feet ahead of him, guiding him though the village. “This one boy, he really reminds me of you,” you look back at him, only for him to look back at the ground. “How so?” He asks quietly.

“Well, he’s very stubborn. Always having a rivalry with his teammate and—,” you stop yourself and clear your throat, “he’s just like you in different ways,” she says and stops in front of Ichiraku. Two silhouettes sat inside. “Ah, here they are,” you say as you enter, looking back at Obito with a reassuring smile. He looks at you and hesitantly enters the shop, looking at the two boys who were sitting on the other side.

They look back at you and one of them grins, greeting you loudly while the other sits calm and politely says hello. The loud one had thick black hair, round dark eyes and a contagious smile, while the quiet one was quite the opposite. It made Obito… uncomfortable. No, not because he didn’t know them or anything, but the similarities between them and Obito and Kakashi were unsettling.

“I thought you weren’t showing up,” Toko, the loud one, whines, “I’m not surprised, she’s always late,” Kenji, the quiet one says. His nose was buried in his book while his friend rolled his eyes.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” You chuckle and stand aside, “I’m here with a guest,”

Kenji lowers his book in curiosity, his pale eyes falling onto Obito with a monotone expression. It reminded him so much of Kakashi. “A guest? Where?” Toko asked, before he looked at the obvious answer right in front of him. “Oh—Oh!” He exclaims, his eyes slightly wide. “You’re—youre,”

“Obito,” you say, “Obito, this is Toko and Kenji,” you introduce them, earning an awkward ‘hey’ from Obito, and the same with Kenji. However, Toko immediately stood up in his seat, “I have so many questions,” he says with bright eyes, “I never thought I’d see you in person so soon,”

Obito was taken slightly aback, he wasn’t expecting such a reaction, and to be honest, the boy kind of reminded him of himself. “Sit down Toko,” Kenji scoffs, but it was obvious the boy had some questions of his own.

“Now, now boys, I don’t think Obito feels comfortable answering questions just yet. He’s still getting used to things and—,”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off before you continue. He sat down beside Toko, who seemed like he was shaking out of excitement. For the first time since Obito got here, he felt… visible. Like he wasn’t being judged by anyone. On the contrary, the boys looked at him not with disgust, but interest.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to,” you reassure, worried that he might be doing this because he felt forced to, “I’m sure,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The night went on smoothly. You were surprised at how much Obito talked—heck, he talked more with your students than with you! The conversation ranged from different types of Jutsus, to the sharingan, to the Uchihas. You had been worried all night that Toko might ask something too personal that would make Obito uncomfortable, but to your surprise, he seemed to be very at ease. Even Kenji had begun to ask some questions, to your surprise.

Of course, the night was coming to an end, and the boys needed to leave. They said their goodbyes and left, making you sit there with Obito. You were silent for a few minutes before you looked at him, “Are you okay?” You asked, concerned that one of the boys asked him something offensive.

“Yeah,” he says and looks at you, his eyes wandering your face and his lips moving as if to say something. You wait patiently for him to speak, tilting your head to the side, “what is it?”

His lips press against each other, turning them into a flat line before he finally speaks, “there’s two of them, aren’t there supposed to be three?” He asks, his eye staring deep into yours.

“Oh..,” you say and look down for a moment, “yeah, there’s supposed to be three,” you look at your nails, trying to find them interesting as the topic makes you a little saddened.

“Then what happened?” He asks curiously, not catching the glimpse of your smile fading slowly. Now it was your turn to bite your lips. You didn’t know how to bring this up because you never liked bringing it up. No one ever asked before either, because the whole village knew what happened.

“We uh… we lost her,” you say with grief, “on a mission,”

“Oh… I’m sorry,” he says and shook his head, “I shouldn’t have asked—,”

“You didn’t know. It’s okay,” you smile reassuringly and pay for the meals. “I’m okay. And so are the boys. They’re strong,” you stand up and look outside, “it’s getting dark, we should probably head back home,”

“…yeah,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“So, you haven’t made any progress?” The silver haired man you know as Kakashi asks from in front of you. Considering he had become Hokage almost immediately after the war, you two barely got to see each other. Obito was currently getting tested at the infirmary for… who knows what. Kakashi didn’t give details about it.

“No, that’s not what I said,” you furrow your brows, “he’s having a hard time getting around. He doesn’t like going outside because people treat him nasty—,”

“And rightfully so. (Y/N), you might not get it, but this is the man who almost wiped the earth clean,” he says in a serious tone, “I know you keep thinking he’s like he used to be—the Obito from the past, but he’s not,”

“He’s trying—,”

“He’s a criminal,” you were slightly taken aback by his tone. You had never heard Kakashi speak about someone so roughly, and you’ve known him for years. You had become good friends since he became a teacher—so it really did surprise you. “You can’t be treating him like some old friend. You must take this seriously,”

“Everyone deserves a chance. He was your friend. You know him better than anyone here,” you say as you sat uncomfortably, “Even Sasuke isn’t being shunned to this extreme,”

“Because Sasuke didn’t start a war,” he refutes, “Then what are you suggesting I do?” You ask as you cross your arms, “I don’t get why you're being so.. so,” you look at him and sigh, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been really out of it. You know I hate mistreatment,” you rub your temples.

“It’s okay,” he sighs, “I just want to make sure you're not doing this because you feel forced to—,”

“I would never. I volunteer to supervise him, and I intend to make this an easy process for every party,” you say confidently, “after all, Obito and I are getting along just fine. He’s even met my students. I’ve seen good progress in him, even if it takes a little time,” you smile, “it’s like I’m slowly bringing him back,”

Kakashi stares at you for a few seconds—it was impossible to read his expression or what he was thinking, but his brows were furrowed together. You might've thought he had an expression of distaste if it weren’t for his mask, “I see… then that’s all for today. I wanted to check up on your progress, but I see that you are doing fine by yourself,”

You frown slightly at his words. You would’ve felt praised if it weren’t for his tone of voice. It seemed a little cold. You didn’t understand why—maybe it was because he was still bitter about everything that happened in the war, just like everyone else, but he out of all people should understand Obito, or at least, try to. “Right, then I’ll get going,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

It seemed the time that you used to spend with Kakashi was replaced by Obito. You two seemed to get closer to each other with each day, and you were glad. He woke up early in the morning now, telling you good morning, and asking what you would do today. If you had to go out, he’d go with you. If you stayed inside, he’d stay with you—Although you mostly thought it was because he literally had no choice but to do so.

You saw him smile more often, and the village seemed to be accepting him more and more. All of your hard work was starting to pay off. Your students seemed to love him, and so did Naruto. Obito loved to speak with your students as well. They reminded him so much of himself when he was younger. Your friendship grew so much, he even insisted on going to watch you train your students. You were glad—no, not glad. You were happy to hear this, immediately agreeing to his request.

Currently, you were sitting down on the grass while your two students sparred, Obito sitting right beside you. “You know, they remind me a lot of how things used to be,” he says while looking at the two boys, “you really weren’t kidding when you said Toko was my twin,” he chuckles, leaning back against a tree.

“I told you,” you smile at him gently before looking back at your students. “So, have you spoken to Kakashi yet?” you ask curiously, considering the last time you spoke to Kakashi about Obito he was a little… bitter about it. You understood why, but it didn’t mean you wanted that to happen.

“No, not since after… everything,” He says with a straight face, "I don't think he’d want to talk to me ever. Not that I care much anyways, I also carry resentment,” he says, not meeting your eyes as he’s focused on the two figures in front of him. They fought hand to hand, and their friendly rivalness was giving him nostalgia. The sound of their weapons clanking made him remember just how much he and Kakashi would always fight. Rin would always watch. His face drops at the memories.

“I see,” you frown, “I just wanted to know because you two deserve to flip the page and start anew,” you look at him, “I certainly forgive you. And I don’t blame you—,”

“(Y/N), I’m not a good person,” he cuts you off with furrowed brows, “And I don’t expect anyone to forgive me. Especially not kakashi. After everything that’s happened, the best thing we can do is forget we even exist,”

“I don’t think that way,” you say sternly, “I believe everyone deserves a chance, and that doesn’t exclude you. You had your reasons—heck, you were a kid when you were manipulated—”

“Manipulated?” his head snaps towards you, “it was my decision,”

“You were a kid,” you refute, but he shakes his head, “It doesn't matter,”

“It does! You were a kid, you were vulnerable—”

“And what do you know?” he asks, a little agitated. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way, but his chest was slightly burning up. “You weren't there when it happened. You didn’t know Kakashi, Rin or me that well. So how could you possibly know what I feel? How could you understand?”

“Because I have a heart. You were a vulnerable kid who was grieving the death of someone you loved. You were filled with rage, and Madara took advantage of that,” you spoke calmly, because the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel even worse than he already was, “You didn’t speak to the people you held closest to your heart. You were ripped away from the village in hopes of false promises,” everything you said, you knew because of him. He had talked about this with you shortly after becoming more comfortable with you. You did know, you weren’t exactly there, but you did understand him.

“Please don’t live your life regretting what you did, or hanging onto hatred,” you frown and put a hand on his shoulder, “This is a new beginning for you. One that you were given even after thinking you didn’t deserve it,” you smile, “take advantage of that and work on yourself. If you’re having a hard time doing so, then I’ll help you. I will always be here for you,”

Your words left him speechless. Honestly, he didn’t know what to say. He was at a loss for words. You made him feel… different. A good difference. It was like you were the thing he most longed for. You were pure kindness… It almost reminded him of Rin. No, it did remind him of Rin. His eye never left yours as he tried to think of something to say. Your hand on his shoulder felt so tender and gentle, something he hadn't experienced in a long time. “I care for you Obito,”

He stares at you for what felt like ages, but finally, he worked up the courage to say something, “thank you,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“I want a rematch!,” Toko whines, looking at the other teenager who stood crossed arms, “I already won, I don’t think you want me to beat you again,” he says and rolls his eyes.

“Okay boys, that’s all for today. Go home and rest,” you say and chuckle, seeing how Kenji helps Toko up from the ground. The boys packed their things before saying goodbye to both you and Obito. After they left, it was silent. Obito was still deep in thought after your conversation.

“Well, I need you to help me get some things. We’re kind of out of groceries and I need to restock,” you say before turning to him, “Unless you want to go home. That’s okay, I’ll do the grocer—”

“No, I’ll come with,” you were once again surprised by this, but immediately smile, “Okay then,”

It’s safe to assume that you and Obito were starting to become closer than what anyone imagined. Some might say it's too close. He seemed to smile more around you, and since some time had passed, he was now allowed to roam freely without having to be under your supervision. However, he refused to leave your side, and you didn’t mind at all. You were glad, because the bubbling feeling in your stomach everytime he laughed or made you laugh was amazing.

However, you were conflicted. For the longest time, you had always liked a certain silver haired Jonin. Kakashi was always your crush—kind of. You weren’t obsessed with him, but there was an obvious interest. You spent a lot of time together, and were set out on a lot of missions together as well. It’s safe to say that you were always together at all times. You weren’t sure if he had actually reciprocated your feelings, because he never showed any sign of interest in you. I guess that’s kind of why you started losing feelings for him as soon as he became Hokage. He was always busy, and you were too. He never seemed to be interested in you the way you were of him, so it didn’t matter.

Obito seemed to be replacing Kakashi in every sense of the matter. He was now the person you’d spend your time with 24/7. You laughed and joked with him, ate with him, lived in the same house as him. Everything you did, he was right by your side. And the best thing about all of this was that Obito seemed to be interested in you too. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the way compliments would slip out of his mouth from time to time would make your stomach flip. The way he now sits right beside you instead of across you everytime you eat just to be closer to you made you feel amazing. He was trying to be as subtle as possible, but he failed miserably. To him, you had become someone he truly cared for. You were so kind to him, even after everything. You trusted him, because you knew who he was. You understood him in every sense of his being, and he was glad. He was just so glad he had you. Because it was as if the universe reunited you two. It was meant to happen.

It seemed the tables had been severely flipped, much to someone’s distaste. Kakashi, although always busy, heard the talk of the town. He heard the rumors, he heard the stories. He heard about how you and Obito were supposedly going out. Or how you were supposedly spotted at a restaurant together. All of this, Kakahsi could handle, because he knew they were just rumors of the town. Of course the people would start to assume things like that. Obito had to be with you at all times, so of course it would stir up a few rumors here and there. But, it made him wonder if it was actually true.

What exactly were you to Kakashi? Why did he find himself caring so much about these stupid rumors going around? He never admitted this before, but you were special to him. Ever since you were kids, he had an interest in you. At the academy and even after joining the Anbu. You always had a special place in Kakashi’s heart. To him, you were priceless. You cared too much about silly things, and too little of yourself. He hated that about you, but he also loved it. Because it left room for him to love you. He always found himself thinking about you, both when he was a kid, and still to this day. He cursed himself for never telling you how he truly felt, but to him, his romantic feelings would subside with time. They didn’t, of course, he was just lying to himself.

Why exactly did he refuse to believe his feelings towards you? Well, he’s always been alone, and when he’s not, he ends up losing those closest to him. He didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t afford to love you when he knew that you might leave him. He couldn’t afford another heartbreak, so he treated you as a friend. He was sure you liked him, he wasn’t stupid, and he was glad. He bathed in your sweetness, and he loved it. He loved knowing that you felt the same. However, his biggest mistake was never saying anything. Because now, he was worried that you didn’t want him anymore. Now that you didn’t want him, he wanted you the most. You barely come visit him at his office anymore, and when you do, it's strictly professional. He had never expected things to go this way. Sure, he was now the Hokage, but out of all the people to treat him with such ‘respect’, he didn’t expect it from you. He thought you’d stay the same as you were. Heck, you didn’t even call him by his name anymore. It was either Hatake or Sir, and neither of them left a good taste in his mouth.

That’s why he made sure that tonight, he’d make up for all the time he wasted just pushing you away.

“You called me here for something, Sir?” you ask as you enter his office,

“You know you don’t have to use formalities when we’re alone, right?” he asks with a chuckle, earning and chuckle from you, “I mean, you’re the Hokage, it’s disrespectful to talk to you as if you’re a normal person,”

He shakes his head before sitting down, “How have you been?” he asks, waiting for you to sit down, which you did.

“Um… Well, i’ve been good,” you say hesitantly, “It’s been peaceful,”

“Is that so? I would’ve assumed you’d be stressed thanks to Obito,” he says and rests his chin on the palm of his hand. You quickly look at him and smile, shaking your head with a chuckle. You instantly melt into the conversation, as if you two had never stopped hanging out, “Oh no, he’s an angel,” you cover your mouth with a giggle, “He’s already getting used to everything. You should’ve seen him helping the seniors. They love him,”

The more you spoke about Obito, the more his expression seemed to change, “i see,” he clears his throat, “I’m glad you’re getting along,” he says a little bitterly, but you didn’t quite catch that.

“I was meaning to ask,” you look at him with a smile, “Have you gotten to speak to him? I think it would be a good idea to talk things out. He told me he hasn’t spoken to you since he got here, so…,” you look at your hands, “maybe it wouldn’t be a bother if you two got to speak. I know things are tense right now, so I wanted to—,”

“I don’t think he’d want to agree with that. We’ve parted ways. It’s better to leave things as they are right now. Let things smooth as they go,” he says, earning a small ‘oh’ from you. He noticed how your smile slightly dropped.

“But, I do have tonight free. I was meaning to ask you— well, if you wanted to go out and eat. You know, so we can catch up,” he was hopeful. There was a big chance you’d say no, but to his surprise, your eyes lit up and your smile came back to your pretty face. “Of course, around what time were you planning? Not that I’ll be busy anytime today, I’m free all day,” you smile excitedly.

“How does six sound?”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“You’re going out?” Obito asks as he lays on your bed. He had a habit of laying on it whenever he could. He would always say it was much more comfortable than his.

“yeah, I thought I told you?” you say as you look through your closet, “No, not really. Where are you going?” he asks curiously, sitting up to look at what clothes you were pulling out.

“I’m going out to meet the Hokage,” you say with a smile, slightly excited that you would get to catch up with him again. This made Obito raise a brow, “So, you’re going out to meet Kakashi,” he states with a ‘matter of fact’ tone “Yes,” you affirm and turn to him. He lays back down, but still looks at you, “Why? Is it like, some weird date or something?”

“No! We’re just going to catch up since we barely spent any time together since he became Hokage,” you say and hold up a dress, “Do you think this is nice?” you smile and show off your dress. A hand comes and pushes the dress aside gently, “It sounds like a date to me,” he looks at your face, kneeling on the bed now.

“Obito, it’s not a date,” you put the dress down, “Even if it was, what's the big deal?”

“Nothing, I’m just saying,” he stands up and walks towards the closet, pulling out another dress, This one was a navy colored one, nothing fancy, but it was still pretty “This one would look way better,” he grins “It’s my favorite color too,”

You smile and take the dress, “Alright,”

After getting dressed and ready, you say goodbye to Obito, who is still on your bed. You heard him ask for some sweets when you got back—but you didn’t really hear him well.

You were both excited and nervous. You didn’t know what to expect. I mean, you knew Kakashi wanted to catch up, sure, but you didn’t know what to expect from yourself. One day you thought you were completely over Kakashi, and now you’re questioning your feelings again. To some extent, your feelings for Kakashi were still very much strong and alive. You were dumb for thinking that you could just forget about him. However, you also felt a little something for Obito. Your mind was reeling with many thoughts. You honestly didn’t know what to do anymore. It was like Kakashi controlled what you felt, and when you could feel it without even trying. You didn’t blame him of course, but it frustrated you a lot.

After a while of walking, you finally saw Kakashi waiting for you at the bridge. You smile and walk towards him, his head turning towards you once he hears your shoes. You assume he smiled at you at the way his eyes turn into crescent moons, “hey,” he greets, turning to face you. “You look wonderful,”

“Thank you,” you reply, your smile never leaving your face as your cheeks are dusted pink. You give him a compliment in return as well, “So, where are we going to eat?” You ask, standing besides him as he begins to lead the way, “I reserved a spot at the new restaurant that just opened recently. I’ve heard real good things about it, and I wanted to bring someone special with me,”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, but you didn’t want to think much of it, “I see,” your cheeks were dusted pink, your lips forming a small smile as you looked down. He noticed this, and smiled to himself. After all this time, he still had that effect on you.

The restaurant was pretty different from all the others in Konoha. It was a little more modern than any other restaurant, and it just screamed expensive. “Wow, this place looks amazing,” you say as you look around, already sitting across from Kakashi, “I’m not sure I can afford to come here more than two times. It looks really expensive,” you laugh, earning a chuckle from him, “Maybe you won’t have to pay. If you come with me, I’ll definitely make sure to pay for everything. Just like tonight,” he tilts his head with a smile, his eyes closed.

“Oh no, don’t bother, I brought money—,”

“I said I’ll pay (Y/N), don’t worry about it,” he put a hand over yours when you went to reach for your pouch. You look at his hand and then at him, “Are you sure?” He nods and leans back, pulling his hand away from yours, “of course, I was the one who invited you. I’m not letting you pay,” he chuckles. He was so handsome.

The afternoon was going really well. Both were having a nice conversation during your meal—although, you had no idea how he was eating since not once did you see him pull down his mask—and were just enjoying yourselves. You felt euphoric. It was nice being with him again. You had forgotten exactly why you had fallen for him all those years ago, and today you were being reminded. He was so nice, so funny, so perfect to you. He read you like a book and listened to everything you had to say. It was just nice.

“You know, I missed this,” you say, taking the last bite of your food and smiling, “I forgot when was the last time that we actually spoke like this. For hours,” you rest your chin on your palm, “I thought we wouldn’t get to do this anymore”

“I thought so too,” he says and looks into your eyes. He fell quiet as he stared at you. This had to be the moment. He needed to tell you now, because he wouldn’t get another chance if he didn’t.

“(Y/N), I have something really important I want to say,” he says, suddenly a little more serious than before, “I want you to be honest with me,”

You furrow your brows, sitting upright and nodding, “yeah, of course. What is it?”

“How do you really feel about me?” You were taken aback by his question, “I thought you wanted to say something important, not ask me something,” you chuckle a little nervously, trying to avoid answering, but he shook his head, “I’ll tell you when you answer me,”

“Well, I think…,” you stop for a moment, trying to form the words you so badly wanted to utter. ‘I’ve been in love with you for the past fifteen years,’ is all you wanted to say, but you couldn’t. Not when you were torn between telling him and forgetting Obito, or just never telling him at all. “You’re a wonderful person,” you say, and look at him. However, it seemed like that wasn’t the answer he wanted. “And I appreciate you a lot, for always being there for me for as long as I remember,”

The table was now quiet. He seemed to be thinking of what to say, and you were nervously waiting for his answer.

“Do you like me? Romantically,” he asks again, now going straight to the point, making your heart beat faster, “what?” You ask, gulping down the lump in your throat.

“Because I like you. I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember,” he declares, making your heart almost stop. You didn’t expect this. You never would’ve expected this. He had never treated you romantically in his life, so what was the occasion?

“I… Kakashi, I don’t understand,” you furrow your brows, “If that is really true, how come you never told me before—or at least dropped hints,”

“I didn’t want to give you false hopes. I wasn’t sure before, mostly because I was afraid to get hurt,” he admits, “but now I’m sure,”

“But why now? Why now all of a sudden?” You ask, the timing seemed weird. How come now, that you weren’t speaking as much as before, he wanted to confess. Why now?

“I.. don’t know,” he blinks, “but what matters is that I told you,”

“I.. Are you being genuine?” You frown, “because the timing seems a little strange. I don’t understand why you suddenly seem interested in me. I mean, we haven’t hung out, we haven’t spoken—you never showed interest in me before this moment. Why is it that now you suddenly want to say this to me,” you didn’t understand why you weren’t happy. I mean, you liked him, of course, but it felt strange.

The puzzle pieces didn’t fit, and the only reason as to why he was seemingly starting to take an interest now, was because you were spending more time with Obito. You didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but come on, it was plausible. It made sense if you thought about it. They technically hated each other, and it was no secret they were rivals and will always be rivals. It looked as if now that Obito was winning your attention, Kakashi wanted it back.

“Of course I’m being genuine. I’ve always liked you,” he frowns, “Do you not like me?”

“It’s… it’s not that. I just, I don’t think I want anything right now. The timing seems off and I— I just don’t know if I’m sure of what I’m feeling,”

The air seemed to get tense the more you spoke. You seemed conflicted, and Kakashi knew why. He knew why you were conflicted. “This is about Obito, isn’t it?” He suddenly asks, making your head snap towards him. “I…,” you didn’t know how to answer, because to some extent, yes, it was about Obito,

“I knew it,” he leans back, “you like him,”

“It’s not like that,”

“Then why is it that you suddenly changed your mind? I mean, I know you like me. Or at least liked. So why else would you not accept me?”

Now that makes you uncomfortable. He was speaking the truth, but the way he said it sounded wrong.

“Kakashi, things change,” you begin to explain, but you never expected what he said next.

“(Y/N), you can’t just fall for him. I’m not sure if he likes you, but if he does, it’s not genuine. It’s not fair to take advantage of someone who obviously has never been treated nicely before. Of course he’d fall for the first person to show him an ounce of respect,”

Your jaw dropped at his words. You couldn’t believe what you just heard. You had to process everything twice just to make sure you weren’t making things up. Kakashi had to admit he was talking out of frustration—since he wasn’t getting you easily. But this reached a whole different level.

“Unbelievable,” you finally say, reaching for your pouch and pulling out money. You slam it onto the table and stand up.

“(Y/N), wait—,”

“I want you to know that Obito deserves to be loved too, you know. Don’t you ever tell me I’m taking advantage of someone just because I love them,” you scoff and take your things, starting to storm your way out of there. Before you could leave, Kakashi caught your wrist, “I didn’t mean it like that,” he tries to convince, but you pull your arm away, “I know what you meant,” you snarl and finally exit, leaving a guilty Kakashi behind.

The walk home was hot. You felt hot all around. You were angry. Angry and hurt. His words kept swirling in your head.

‘It’s not fair to take advantage of someone who obviously has never been treated nicely before,’

Who did he think he was? How could he even say that? It hurts you. It hurt you because you liked him so much, but this? This made you think about what you felt. It made you question things.

Maybe you were overreacting. You didn’t know. Right now, you didn’t want to know. You got home and quickly stormed towards your bedroom after locking the door. You looked disheveled—and once you reached your bedroom, Obito quickly sat up from your bed, “you’re here early,” he says, but quickly stopped when he saw your red face. Concern washes over him as he stands up, “hey, what’s wrong?”

You stay silent, taking off your shoes while shaking slightly, “(Y/N), what’s going on?” he asks again, coming closer to you and placing his gentle hands on your shoulders, “Hey, look at me,”

You finally look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. You were so mad, so frustrated, that you couldn’t hold back your tears, “what’s wrong?” His voice was so gentle, so soothing. It was exactly what you needed right now. You had possibly ruined your relationship with Kakashi—no, you didn’t ruin it. He did.

“I just,” you choked as your tears finally fell. You hated crying. You hated that you cried when you just wanted to yell.

Instead of pushing you to speak, Obito pulled you into a hug. His arms wrapped around your waist as his hand held your head and pushed it towards his chest. It was so warm. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he whispers, his fingers gently tangling themselves into your hair. Your arms found themselves wrapping around him as well, holding onto him for what seemed like hours. Yet he never moved. He never uttered a word to hurt you. On the contrary, he let you know he was there for you. This is what you needed…

“Thank you, Obito,”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Days passed by since what happened at the restaurant, and today was the first time since the incident that you were called to the Hokage’s office. You felt dread wash over you when you received the message, you didn’t want to go, not after what happened. Oh, had I mentioned how Obito and you now seemed to be inseparable? That interaction had built a strong bond between the two of you. No words were spoken that night, but they didn’t have to be. Both of you created a connection no other person could achieve.

With every step you took, your body felt heavier. Dread consumed you and you couldn’t seem to open the door to his office. You didn’t know what to expect… however, you managed to build the courage to enter his office, straightening yourself and walking towards his desk, “you called for me, sir?”

His head tilts upwards to look at you, “Yes,” he answers dryly and pulls a scroll from his desk, “a mission for you, out in Kirigakure,” he waits for you to take the scroll, watching you intently. You felt as if his eyes were burning holes onto your skin. You reached for the scroll and took it.

“Take both your students with you,” he adds, and looks down at some papers, “that’s all,”

You weren’t expecting this attitude, but then again, what were you expecting? You felt weird. “Right, thank you,” you say, bowing respectfully before turning towards the exit. As you were about to open the door, he called for you. You turn your head towards him, and wait for him to speak.

“Just know that I’m sorry,” he says, which you simply nodded and left. Once you were out of sight, your heart dropped to your stomach. ‘You should’ve said something’ you thought, mentally facepalming. ‘He was trying to apologize and you just left? You’re so stupid’ you insult yourself as you walk out of the building. You wondered what this mission was about, but you didn’t check until you were back home.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

The mission was simple. There were some ninja terrorizing the village and they needed some help catching them. It wasn’t an S rank mission, but it was still pretty high up there. You assumed the ninja were pretty darn strong if you had to be sent out.

“A mission in the mist village?” Asked Obito as he peeked over your shoulder to see what the scroll said. “Apparently. It’ll take a few days I guess,” you sigh and place the scroll on the desk of your room, going to grab a bag to pack some things. Obito read the scroll with furrowed brows, “why couldn’t he send Naruto and his gang? I mean, they could handle it themselves,” he asks and watches you pack, “because they’re busy with their own missions,” you say, throwing some clothes and tools into your bag, “I have to leave in a few hours, so please keep the place tidy,” you say, turning towards him.

“Of course,” he shrugs and sits down on the bed, “and make sure to eat well—and don’t drool on my pillows this time,” you laugh as he blushed slightly, “that was one time,” he argued

“I know, I’m just messing with you,”

Once it was time to leave, you took your bag and wore your headband. Obito followed behind you as you walked towards the door. “Hey,” he called before you opened the door. You turn to him and raise a brow, “what is it?”

“Please be careful,” he says, obviously worried, “I mean, I know you’ll kick ass, but please be careful,” he smiles at you worriedly, but you grinned reassuringly, “don’t worry Obito, I’ll come back in one piece,” you chuckle and open your arms. He immediately leaned in to give you a strong hug, and for a moment it seemed like he didn’t want to let go. However, you needed to leave and he let go. He smiled gently and pinched your cheek, “alright, I’ll see you soon then,” he says and you nod, leaving him behind. You wondered what he’d do while you were gone, but decided it was better to keep your mind focused on your mission.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Now while you were gone, a surprise arrived at your doorstep. When Obito answered the door, it was two of Kakashi’s secretaries. “Obito Uchiha, you have been summoned to the Hokage’s office on urgent request,”

Him? What for? Although Obito wanted to ask these exact questions, he only nodded and followed them to the building. He hadn’t been called there for about two months, what could he possibly be called over there for.

Once they arrived, he was left alone in front of the office doors. Everything seemed different. The village itself had changed too much since the last time he was there—well, when he was a kid. He shook the thoughts away and entered the office. Finally, after two long months, Kakashi and Obito were back face to face.

“You called me,” Obito states, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he waits for Kakashi to speak. The silver haired man looks up from his paperwork, his dark eyes burning into Obito’s.

“Yes, we need to talk,”

136 notes · View notes

haruchi-slit · 5 months

Text

BAD (GOOD) IDEA!

synopsis: Summoning a incubus, Sukuna

warnings: Sukuna has horns, he's a demon/curse, monster fucking, Sukuna has 2 pps and a mouth on his belly, dub con, MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND CUTTING (IT'S FOR THE RITUAL) fucking against the wall, THE RITUAL THINGY ISN'T REAL! English isn't my first language so please forgive me if my grammar's wrong and yeaa a lot of other kinky stuff ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ

a/n: might do a Higuruma, Gojo, or Toji smut/ff/fluff next, any ways isn't Sukuna's just such a cutiepatootie i also tend to use complete English words for sukuna instead of Contractions, like: isn't - is not cause, get it? he's a 1000 year's old tee-hee this is a late Christmas present ;>

After you applied and got accepted at the company your friend's working, you visited your local library to read, and maybe borrow some books, a particular book, caught your attention, it's designed with eyes and plant vines, so curiosity got the better out off you.

"Miss can I borrow this?" you asked as you put the book on the counter,

"Oh hi!, yes, yes you can ma'am, but be really careful" she said, not paying attention to what the librarian, you carelessly dug your own grave, or maybe..not.

"Your Id please, ma'am" the employee says

"Yeah, here" you said looking for your Id in your wallet, once you found your Id you gave it to the librarian.

You got home, completely tired, you placed the book down on your study table, you sat down and decided to read it once you opened it, you realized that the pages only contains pictures, you saw a four armed human with horns, you're not quite sure if it was a demon or a human, while looking thru the pages, a particular page had your eyes dazzling.

it was an instruction on how to summon the

"human" in the book.

You knew it's not a good idea to build and set a little shrine to summon the "human" in the book, but you thought,

"Curses, demons, or other evil spirits don't exist" you scoffed "what else could go wrong"

you shrugged snickering to your self.

You deeply cutted the tip of your finger, you watched your blood drip to the palm of your hand you drew a box with a mouth and four eyes on the paper, As you were doing the ritual, the little shrine you made lits up and turned into ashes, as a portal appears on your bedroom floor, it was the "human" in the book,

he wears a woman's kimono, he has horns, four eyes, you can't help but to look on his stomach with a huge mouth, his about 8ft tall, he has tattoos all over his body and only two arms?, you we're taken a back as you screamed in terror, which made the demon shot the deadliest glare.

"Is that how you greet your guest?, humans." he rolled his eyes as he unclasped his arms,

"F-fuck!" you exclaimed, while you ran fast as you could to unlock your door, but unfortunately the demon appears in front of your bedroom door in a matter of second, which results you bumping on his muscular stomach,

"Summoning me and then running away?, that is quite rude for a lady is it not?, come on do not be scared of me, brat." the demon said forming a devious smirk.

"What-what in the hell are you!?" you breath uncontrollably.

"What do you think human?, I'm a Incubus, you did not read the book?"

you tilted your head, "A what?" you asked, he chuckles at your naive response.

"I'll show what an incubus can do" he once again plastered his devious smirk.

He throws you on your soft mattress causing you to lay flat, you were completely frozen, he towers on top of you, with his muscular and obviously strong structure, you knew you were hopeless.

He lightly sat on your knees, traping you, making sure you can't move,

he removes his kimono, revealing his other set of arms

"Hey- what do your think you're doing!?" you stutter,

he shot seductive glares and you can't lie he's damn fucking attractive!, he acted like he didn't heard you, as he remove his undergarments and tossed it to the ground, he then shook his head as he shushes your mouth, he lifts you up and makes you sit on his lap, you were still in shock so tried to look away, he grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him.

"Eyes on me little one."

you bit your lips trying not to cry, but it was no avail your tears dripped down your cheeks and the demon found it pathetic.

"Humans are so emotional" he chuckles as he leans close to your face, he then licks your tears of, "I'll make you cry in pleasure too" he said and kissed you, you responded to the kiss, you don't know why but the kiss was sloppy, rough, he was dominant, and he doesn't hide it, he bits your lower lip to open your mouth in which he succeed, he roams his tongue in your mouth transferring some of his saliva in you, tongues currently fighting for dominance, you were so lost in the deep kiss, so he took the opportunity to slide the tongue on his belly in your shorts taking you by surprise, you let out a breathy moan as you once again latched your mouth on his lips, his belly tongue draws up and down licking every cornee of your vagina, your short were completely wet by how the demon was spitting on your pussy and abusing it, you broke the deep kiss as soon as you felt his dick erect, you looked at your back as you realized he has two dicks you gasp, you couldn't believe a living being could have two!

"What?, are you surprised little human?" he asked his tongue still moving down your pussy, "Nnn~ ha!" you whimpered as you nodded several times, "feeling good brat?"

"Ha! ugh hah!" you nodded once again, your hand going up to your tits squishing together,

the demon, once again, laughed at your pathetic state

"still not enough?, human are soo greedy" he says as he stood up and lifts you up high against the wall then tore your shorts and panties off, he uses his lower set of arms to hold your lower thigh as the upper set of arms was used as a support to your waist, he leveled your body to his mouth and remember his 8ft tall, so your literally high up against the wall, he spreads your legs wider as he latched his mouth on your pussy, sloppily eating it, focusing on your clit more, so you'll lose your mind faster, he fucking knows how to work that tongue up, his a 1000 years old curse after all, you were above the cloud, in how fucking good he was,

"oh fuuhh!!~ demon, hah! incubus! what ever you are nnn~ so fucking good!" you moaned

"Don't call me shits you brat, Sukuna or Ryomen your choice, little human."

he said while you didn't respond, he latched his mouth on your pussy again, burying his face furthermore making your back arch, against the wall, the room was filled with slurping sounds, whimpers and moans, you feel your walls starting to twitch you knew you're close, and Sukuna noticed so he fasten his pace flicking your puffy clit, spitting on your pussy with no remorse.

"R-ryomen!~ Fuck!" you screamed, as you orgasmed on his long tongue,

"You like that hmm?~" he asked but you couldn't respond cause you were still high,

"ok that's enough foreplay." he said as he aligns his dicks on your pussy and ass.

he slams his dick in you while his arms still supports your little body, he pins your whole body against the wall, his cocks were thick, and quite long, "So- f'king big! i can't!" you cried out "you'll tear me up Ryo!" you added scratching on his shoulders and back,

"oh come on little human, you can do it" he laughs as he pushes his dicks in you,

"my dicks just half way there don't pass out"

penetrating both of your holes

"Ryomen Oh my!" you bit your tongue in result it bleed, "shushh" Sukana says as he kissed your lips, you tasted the metallic taste of your blood while kissing him, as his dicks finally enters both your holes, you can feel his other cock moving in your ass, making it more ten times good, tongue lolled up, saliva dripping from both ends of your mouth, eyes almost crossing, his cocks hits every spot, with every thrust, you scream, and each scream was punctuated,

"Ah~hah, your pussy won't let me move that much, so t-tight" Sukuna states, as he buried his face to the crook of your collarbone, you can feel your pussy latching on his cock like it was it's life source, like if it disappears it would die, "Sukuna nnn!" you moaned your brain turned into a mush with all the pleasure, his cocks hitting each and every g-spot in your body, his cock kissing your womb with his thrust after trust, he lifts you up once again toward your mattress making you sit on top of him, letting you take control,

"come on little human show me what you got."

you bounced up and down holding on to his horns for support as his lower set of arms is buried deep on the flesh of your hips, as his top set of arms was on top of his head,after bouncing on top of him non-stop he came after, your eyelid fell after that, and then you woke up, with heavy breaths, you observed the room your in, you're still in your bed room, fully clothed under your blanket, you looked at your digital clock beside your bed, and realized it was time for your work,

"Thank god it was just a wet dream haha~" you yawned,

"oops, can't be late for my new job" you lightly laughed. Unfortunately you we're late.

Upon arriving at your workplace, you we're 20 minutes late. your friend, Geto greets you after coming out of the elevator,

"oh good morning~, the boss is waiting for you" Geto says and points a the door, that you assumed the boss's office,

"uh-oh, is it because im late?" you asked

which made Geto shrug " I don't know" he says "just goo aheadd, I'll grab you some coffee, see you later" added.

You knocked on your Boss's office

"Come in" a familiar voice, as soon as you opened the door, your boss greets you,

"Did you have fun last night, little human?"

"Ryomen..."

a/n: no part two👹

#jjk smut #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #incubus sukuna #jjk #toji smut #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #smut sukuna

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clusterfuck-yandere · 1 year

Text

PUPPY OBSESSION V

Yandere Leon Kennedy x Reader

Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Y’all wanted it, so y’all got it. Thank you for being so patient and waiting an entire fucking year (Christ, has it really been that long??). And so — without further ado — I hope you enjoy part 5 of this quirky series, tee hee.

This is in HC format.

The reader is gender neutral.

Contains: feelings of paranoia, being hunted, deliberations on murder, Stockholm syndrome if you squint.

↳ ༉‧₊ You woke up to the worst pain in your life.

And that’s no exaggeration, either.

Your legs felt like they were splintering at the bone, and your cheeks stung of tiny cuts. Not to mention your aching joints and muscles.

After a while, however, you managed to sit upright without falling flat back on the ground. And that’s when you decided to assess your current situation;

You had no idea where the fuck you were.

It was morning, at least, so you were able to see the tall trees that surrounded your battered form. The only thing you could hear were the soft chirps of distant birds.

Lost in a forest, you noted. So, escaping WASN’T just a dream…

Part of you wanted to rejoice at this revelation. You were finally free; free from him. After being in that basement for god knows how long, you escaped..!!

But another part of you knew it wasn’t that simple.

You knew he was coming after you. Hell, he was probably searching all night, and even still searching. There’s no way he would just let you hit him with a vase, jump through a window, and disappear into the woods.

You might’ve escaped, but you quite literally weren’t out of the woods yet.

Which is why you found yourself struggling to your feet. It hurt like a bitch (maybe jumping out of a window was a bad idea), but the remaining adrenaline of the night before — mixed with your unwavering determination — got you standing in no time.

If you wanted to remain free, you had to keep moving.

It was the only way.

↳ ༉‧₊ Walking through the woods was a nightmare in itself.

And it wasn’t because your legs ached with every step. Well, that might’ve been part of it, but it definitely was the least of your worries.

Every single sound you heard — every snap of a twig or crunch of a leaf — sent waves of terror through your body. For all you knew, any of those sounds could’ve been him.

God, what if he was following you from a distance? Carefully watching until you took a rest, which would be the perfect moment for him to catch you off guard?

Then again, he probably wouldn’t be patient enough for that. If he saw you, he’d probably waste no time in tackling you or something.

A shiver went up your spine, though you didn’t know if it was the chilly morning air or the thought of him charging at you…

All the more reason to keep moving, you told yourself.

But… moving towards where?

These woods were unfamiliar to you, and you weren’t sure if Leon had neighbors in the woods.

Maybe you could find a nearby town? Or a campsite of some sort? Even a highway would be good enough.

Whatever was closest, you’d find a way to work with it.

Anywhere that wasn’t near him was like heaven, after all.

↳ ༉‧₊ The woods seemed to go on for hours.

And, admittedly, it probably did.

You had no idea how long you were walking for. But the sun was right above your head, meaning it was almost likely around noontime.

Though your rumbling stomach was really the only indication you needed for the time…

Okay, you had to admit; your escape wasn’t so well-thought out. You were so hung up on the actual escape part that you didn’t really think about what would happen afterwards. And that was really evident in your lack of food… which is kind of important for survival.

Maybe I should’ve taken a bit longer to plan…

You shook the thought from your head. There was no way you would spend anymore time in that place. If you had to sleep one more night with him, you might’ve lost it.

… Though, maybe you already have lost it.

Even so, you still had to keep moving. No matter how tired your pained legs were, you had to keep looking for something. There was no time for a break; you couldn’t take a break.

↳ ༉‧₊ Your body, however, had other plans.

By the time the sky was a brilliant orange color, you were practically crawling on the forest floor.

You bitterly thought about how pathetic you must’ve looked; wrinkled clothing caked in mud, dirt underneath your fingernails, hands clawing into the earth to drag the rest of your body forward…

And it didn’t help that your stomach was rumbling louder than you would’ve preferred…

Or that your throat felt so dry…

However, your luck seemed to be turning around a bit when your ears picked up on a soft, trickling, gushing noise.

Water.

The thought of a river or stream nearby motivates you enough to shakily get off of the ground, your legs stumbling towards the promising sounds of nice, cold water.

It didn’t take long before you managed to find yourself on a riverbank, jagged pebbles crunching under your feet as you lurched towards the clear and glittering water.

You wasted no time in cupping your hands and plunging them into the river. The cool water felt refreshing against your hands, creating a soothing ripple effect across your entire aching body.

Was this water clean? Probably not. God knows what nasty particles were swimming around in this unfiltered river water, and you did not want to know where this water was coming from.

But none of that stopped you from bringing your hands up to your lips and gulping it down.

You repeated this action about 5 or 6 times, the cool water doing good to quench your thirst. Despite the earthy taste — and the overwhelming flavor of straight-up river — it was probably the best water you’ve had in a while.

↳ ༉‧₊ It was then that you decided to take a break for the rest of the night.

The sun was barely peeking behind the tree line at this point, and wandering in the dark wasn’t going to do you any favors.

Besides, that little voice in the back of your head that was pleading for you to rest was getting on your nerves.

You cupped some water into your hands once more to splash your face, effectively removing whatever dirt and grime you had collected. The cold liquid against your skin made you feel much more rejuvenated than when you initially woke up.

You also took the time to dip your sore feet into the river to provide some sense of relief. A sigh of relief was pulled from your lips as you looked up to the darkening sky.

Why did it have to be you? Why did this sick fuck have to destroy everything — your promising career, your general sense of safety, your entire life — all because of his borderline psychotic obsession?

Did you piss off whatever god was out there so badly that they decided to punish you like this? Did they create Leon Kennedy to be your own personal demon? Someone that would latch himself onto you like a parasite and drain you of everything you loved?

I... I have to make you love me, his twisted voice echoed in your head. I— I need to make you love me… pl— please— please love me…

Love me…

A distant twig snapping made your shoulders jolt.

↳ ༉‧₊ It was him.

There was something about the way a shiver ran up your spine that made you know.

He was somewhere nearby.

So, as quietly as you could manage, you pulled your feet out from the river and frantically scanned your surroundings.

There was a thick, good-sized tree with a bush next to it that would (hopefully) provide adequate cover should he look your way. Hiding from him made you feel pathetic — you were supposed to be an officer; someone who was fearless and brave — but you had no idea what he was armed with.

Or if he minded cuddling with a dead body.

That’s why you darted towards the tree. You paid extra mind towards the dead leaves on the ground, making sure not to create any sound that would alert him, as you dove behind your makeshift cover.

It was quiet for a few moments. The only sound you could hear was the trickling body of water next to you, and you were starting to doubt yourself.

Maybe it wasn’t him after all…

But another twig snapped — sounding much closer than before — and your stomach dropped completely.

Crunch… crunch… crunch… crunch…

You could hear dead leaves being stepped on by careful feet, getting louder and louder by the second. Your head carefully peaked out from behind the tree and bush as you silently prayed for it to be someone else; anyone else.

But, of course, fate never worked in your favor.

When he came into your field of vision, you had to fight your initial urge to bolt the other direction. But you knew better than to give away your location and have him chase you in your current state.

So, instead, you took notice of his current state.

He was still in his RPD uniform, though it was caked in mud and dirt. His hair was sporting a similar grimy look with dirty blonde strands poking every which way.

You weren’t close enough to admire him in full detail, but you did manage to catch the cuts that littered his face.

As well as the good-sized chunk of porcelain that was embedded in his forehead.

A dark part of your mind felt satisfied at this.

↳ ༉‧₊ Fortunately for you, he didn’t seem to notice your hiding spot.

You watched him slowly the riverbank, most likely trying to pick up on any signs that you were at least nearby.

It felt like hours passed before his head lowered towards the river. His shoulders hitched upwards before sagging downwards; you guessed it was from him heaving a sigh.

Maybe that means he’s given up, you thought. Or at least moving on to a new area.

But any hope of that went out the window when he suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands clutching at the pebbles on the riverbank.

You weren’t expecting him to do that, which is probably why you felt your entire body flinch. Your eyes narrowed as you watched him intently.

What is he doing?

Your question was quickly answered by the front sniffling noises that filled the evening air. Leon’s entire body seemed to tremble as the sniffling turned into full-on sobs.

He was crying.

Of course. Just your luck to have him come to the exact same area you’re in… just to cry.

All you could do was uncomfortably watch him wail into his hands, his body curling into itself.

“… (Y/N),” you could faintly hear him whimper. “(Y/N)… wh-where are you?!”

The way he sobbed out your name crawled underneath your skin, sending a deep chill up your back.

He reminded you of a lost child crying out for his parents…

Except this lost child needs to fuck off, you mentally spat out.

In between his hiccups, you could hear those disgusting I love you’s he would mumble into your ear. The ones that would haunt you during the night, or when he was away at work.

“I… love y-you… I-I love you…”

“I love you…”

It would always roll off of his lips like a prayer.

His wailing soon turned into soft whimpers, which then turned into soft sniffles. What felt like an eternity of his cries piercing your ears was finally over.

He looked as though he was asleep.

Find a rock, a dark corner of your mind screamed. Find a rock that’s big enough to crush his skull in.

Killing him… that was…

Well…

You couldn’t explain it, but something about that idea just didn’t sit right with you.

Which was absolutely crazy to you; this was the guy that stalked you, broke into your house, kidnapped you, kept you in his basement for god knows how long, and tried force his twisted romantic fantasies onto you.

A psycho like him deserves to die, that dark voice reasoned with you.

But…

Maybe it was some sense of morality that was holding you back. To kill another human, well, is a crime. Leon is a piece of shit, but murdering him wouldn’t make you any better. As much as part of you thought he deserves death, you knew it wasn’t up to you to make that call. If anything, if he deserved anything, it was professional help (in a nice padded room far away from you, might you add).

Even so, the dark voice was persistent.

Kill him. He’s done nothing but make your life a living hell. He’s practically hunting you down, for fucks sake, and he won’t stop until he has you again.

And if that ever happens…

God, what would he even do to you?

↳ ༉‧₊ You found yourself in a moral dilemma.

The night was upon you, and Leon remained asleep on the riverbank.

It would be an easy kill, you mused to yourself. If you were quiet enough, you could pick up a rock, sneak up on him, and hit him as hard as you could. Over and over and over again.

But… what if he woke up? What if he managed to grab the rock from your hands, or heard you approach him to begin with? Would you win that fight? Would you be able to outrun him?

And… more importantly… would you have enough willpower to strike him in the first place?

Surely, you would, right? This man is terrible. All of your rage should be bubbling towards the surface, giving you the strength to cave his fucking face in.

But something was holding you back. You didn’t know what it was, but it somehow trumped over your anger and caused anxiety to claw at your mind.

Kill him… kill him… kill him…!!

You felt your hands trembling as you stared down at them.

I… I can’t…

It just wasn’t right. Leon was fucked up in the brain, sure, but should he really die because of it? In his sleep, no less?

It might not be right, but it might be the only way you can get the hell out of here.

So…

↳ ༉‧₊ What is your plan of action?

#↳ ༉‧₊ PUPPY OBSESSION #↳ ༉‧₊ YANDERE RESIDENT EVIL #↳ ༉‧₊ YANDERE LEON KENNEDY #↳ ༉‧₊ YANDERE LEON KENNEDY X READER

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caltropspress · 3 months

Text

Earl Sweatshirt: A Geography of Grief and Growth

I made myself the poet of the world. The white man had found a poetry in which there was nothing poetic….I had soon to change my tune.

—Frantz Fanon, Black Skin, White Masks (1952)

I suggest that we do not necessarily need to hear and know what is stated in its entirety, that we do not need to “master” or conquer the narrative as a whole, that we may know in fragments.

—bell hooks, “Teaching New Worlds/New Words” (1994)

Breakin’ ’em down to micro-fragments.

—Saafir, “Battle Drill” (1994)

What is asked of me is not to ascend but to descend.

—Robert Bly (1990)

Earl Sweatshirt’s arc, swerving and dervishy, isn’t difficult to see, as we’ve witnessed it with him—we’re either interlocutors or interlopers, both with questionable motives. So when Earl looks back on school daze, as he does on “OD,” we look back with him (though ours is often an imperial gaze [HOW COULD IT NOT BE?]). We tee-hee and titter as we hear that “somebody tooted in the student commons,” tooted being the most puerile word for gas he could have chosen. An array of scatological options were ignored. It’s a deliberate gesture toward juvenilia. He doesn’t want his expression to be too mature, ha. He wants to welcome you to the romper room, ha. Remaining a kid until the moment he expires, apparently. So he sets the adolescent scene: the student commons. “The bell rang,” and the accused student was spared the prolonged opprobrium. In about four seconds, the student will begin to post. He “went home and argued in the comments,” channeling his embarrassment elsewhere, talking shit (shit) on the internet behind the safety and quasi-anonymity of a screen—an odd facade. He can walk right up to your avi and diss you. That’s his philosophy. The public humiliation replaced with a private self-possession. The discomfort of the crowd exchanged for the solace of solitude.

2. DID AN ANGEL SPEAK?

The sonics of “tooted” and “student” are twee, giggle-inducing. We laugh along with the concatenation of m and n phonemes [somebody | student | commons | rang | went | home | then | in | comments]. The near-homophonous commons and comments scan hysterical. With “OD,” it’s easy to confuse adolescence with adulthood. That “somebody” committed this social transgression seems defensive. Maybe it was him—the subject, Earl, Thebe—seeing as how the rest of the song is delivered in the first-person. Embrace the Age of Immaturity. Channel the Fat Boys: Darren Robinson’s flatulent beatbox. Place it beside the disorderly lyrics that Bobbito spits: “I write my own shit from finish to start, / Diminish the heart, / I eat a knish and then I fart.” Like the Cenobites, Earl kicks a dope verse, and only that. “I keep my sentences short,” he says on “EAST.” Beauty is brevity, brevity beauty. A “brevity pack,” as Earl has referred to the Feet of Clay songs. He strives to be live ’cause he got no choice. He runs his own business like James Joyce. In A Portrait of the Artists as a Young Man, a similar flatus incident unravels. At Clongowes Wood College (Stephen Dedalus’s Coral Reef Academy), a “stout student who stood below…on the steps” by the name of Goggins “farted briefly.” Sonically, the sentence shares much with Earl’s opening line. Dixon asks, in a “soft voice,” “Did an angel speak?” But the others react with bellicosity and name-calling (stinkpot; flamingest dirty devil). Goggins doesn’t retreat home; he simply asks, “It did no one any harm, did it?” You still bet that you can harm me, but you don’t alarm me, Goggins might say another way, reprising Del the Funky Homosapien, echoplexing Masta Ace.

Earl “watched the doppler move,” the wavelength shift—the siren song of the “toot,” something insidious—or maybe it’s just the tremors we’re feeling. Woop, woop: that’s the sound of the beast, KRS would say. The frequency shivers. The shift, the movéd doppler, means Earl is immediately older, he’s the child who “get[s] introduced to violence,” even if he acknowledges the line was inspired by his nephew on a playground in South Africa, experiencing apartheid reincarnate as a whiteboy cuts him in line for the slide. Cranly, bullying Goggins, “shove[s] him violently down the steps.” The doppler moves. It slides into violence—like the violence visited upon the MOVE compound located at 6221 Osage Avenue in Philly in 1985. Gradations of black/white. ELUCID mentions the “gray on [his] face showing age” on his Osage (2016) project. Isn’t it strange—how the youngins can turn cold, hoarfrosty, in an instant? The grayscale cover to ELUCID’s tape is graced by a photograph of Birdie Africa, the sole child survivor of the siege. The bone fragments of the MOVE children have since been used in anthropology courses at UPenn and Princeton—case studies. It’s a good trope. Fascinating stuff.

4. TRYIN’ TO TRANSFORM YOU BOYS TO MEN LIKE DAYCARE

When JuJu of the Beatnuts asked, You want pain?, he wasn’t referencing the dramatical-traumatical pain Earl negotiates—JuJu’s question posed a ruffneck and ruffian pain on “Watch Out Now.” Somewhere closer to Marcy, where Jay-Z’s streets was watching. Earl clocks minutes, anaphoric with what he watches (I watched the doppler… / I watched a child…), much like Dylan’s portentous hard rain in which he saw endless racialized visions: “I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it”; “I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’”; “I saw a white ladder all covered with water.” For Earl, the ladder is a slide. The saw is watched. Witnesses all.

In “Theory as Liberatory Practice,” bell hooks writes that she “came to theory because [she] was hurting”: “I wanted to make the hurt go away. I saw in theory then a location for healing.” hooks says that she “came to theory young, when [she] was still a child,” citing Terry Eagleton who argues that “[c]hildren make the best theorists.” Children, Eagleton insists, possess “a wondering estrangement.” No wonder, then, that “since a jit” Earl has found no use in “giving up.” He rather make it make sense.

I beat you to the point. Having gained experience, there’s nothing you can tell Earl that he doesn’t already know, that he hasn’t already seen. He’s seen enough, had enough. He doesn’t await the mob’s pursuit; he places the noose on himself, he RE: DEFines it within his own lexicon. His noose, therefore, “is golden.” He’s a young youth, rockin’ the gold [noose], DEATHWORLD goose. He speaks with criminal slang, with a split tongue like ELUCID. Where ELUCID was “true and living, actual—no dull axes, owner of all heads,” Earl is “true and living, lonesome,” with no skulls to keep him company. He has to square up with the “pugilistic moments” on his own.

7. I AM OLDER THAN I ONCE WAS AND YOUNGER THAN I’LL BE

I’m thinking of “The Pugilist at Rest” (1991) by Thom Jones, whose epileptic protag describes a “grainy black-and-white photograph” of the bronze statue called The Pugilist at Rest. The pugilist, with a pocketful of mumbles, has “slanted, drooping brows that bespeak torn nerves” and a forehead “piled with scar tissue.” Torn nerves and scar tissue—sounds like the physical manifestations of grief. And, yes, Earl has grieved, and he continues to grieve—as listeners, we’re accustomed to his grief pedigree, as per Ka. In the past, Earl was “panicking a lot”—he just “want[ed] [his] time and [his] mind intact.” That’s a cold fact.

The narrator of “The Pugilist at Rest” readies himself for a cingulotomy—a psychosurgical procedure that will “cauterize a small spot in a nerve bundle in [his] brain.” In other words, he wants to keep his mind intact. The neurosurgeon promises the operation will lift “the heaviness of a heart blackened by sin,” which is what convinces the narrator to agree to it. Good grief, he thinks, he’s been reaping what he sowed. He “can’t go on like this,” barely living “with a deadening sense of languor,” a phrase which calls to mind Earl’s lethargic, slugabed flow. Feeling insane in the membrane, like he’s a Soul Assassinated, exploring the depths beneath his whooligan behaviors. 376 was a brothel. “Good and evil are only illusions,” Jones writes. In anticipation of the surgery, the protag considers the worst-case [so what, so what] scenario: “If they fuck up the operation, I hope I get to keep my dogs somehow.”

8. MOURNING & MEDICINE FOR MELANCHOLIA

Grief carries its own antidote along with it.

—Charles Brockden Brown, Wieland (1798)

“Grief is the door to feeling,” Robert Bly says. But Earl, on “Grief,” told us he “ain’t been outside in a minute”—and that minute, whether we’re speaking with criminal slang like Nas on “It Ain’t Hard To Tell” or not, is an eternity. Earl hadn’t crossed that threshold, hadn’t kicked in that door. MIKE would realize it much later on “No Curse Lifted (rivers of love),” how you “had to walk through the grief,” even if it “was the worst feeling.” In 2015, though, Earl found these passageways distorted. Like the undulating photograph on the cover of his first mixtape. Like the blur-obscured selfie on the cover of Some Rap Songs. Like the static-scrambled cover of I Don’t Like Shit, I Don’t Go Outside. Earl’s dealt in fragmentary confuzzled noise for a full career. He’s been standing on the corner, red burnt, moving down alien lanes paved by GBV, greenthinking to himself. It ain’t hard to tell that Earl “don’t act hard” and yet is a “hard act to follow.” The density or opacity of his exterior notwithstanding, grief don’t come easy. “As men,” Bly says, “we’re taught not to feel pain and grief as children.” So Earl spits somnolent, numb-tongued and slack-jawed. Like he said on “Cold Summers”: muffle my pain and muzzle my brain up.

“I’ve been alone in my shit for the longest,” he spit on “Grief,” and in work as recent as “Vin Skully,” he’s still figuring out “how to stay afloat in a bottomless pit.” Bly says that “we receive something from our father by standing close to him—something moves over that can’t be described in material terms.” Bly speaks of being in a “conspiracy with his mother” from early on. Earl finds himself “thinking ’bout [his] grandmama” while he wallows and lies in a bottle. “Grief” catalogs all the things his mama taught him. Earl’s work, of late, is autodestructive. He peels away and pastes back haphazardly. He vibes with this Bly shit: “If you can deny something so fundamental as grief in the whole family, you can deny anything. And then how can you write poetry if you’re involved in that much denial?”

Bly goes on to quote Alice Miller, the psychoanalyst who gave us The Drama of the Gifted Child (1979): “When you were young, you needed something you did not receive, and you will never receive it. And the proper attitude is mourning.” Mourning is the proper attitude, not blame—mourning. Mourning makes its way through moaning and mumbling—Earl’s current intonation. On “Grief,” he “cut the grass off the surface [and] pray[s] the lawnmower blade catch the back of a serpent.” Philip Larkin’s poem “The Mower” (1979) leans more literal: “The mower stalled, twice; I found / A hedgehog jammed up against the blades, / Killed. It had been in the long grass.” Larkin’s speaker genuflects before the innocent critter, recalling how he “fed it, once.” Now, he mourns how he has “mauled its unobtrusive world, / Unmendably. Burial was no help.” Earl, of course, is less forgiving of the serpents in the grass. They’re threats, not friends. Still, a void opens up when the mower—(and let’s not forget the lawnmower is a modernized scythe)—does its mowing. Grief is the door to feeling, and on the other side:

Next morning I got up and it did not. The first day after a death, the new absence Is always the same; we should be careful Of each other, we should be kind While there is still time.

9. NOBODY KNOW WHO MADE THIS WELL, FOR IT WAS HERE WHEN I WAS BORN

“Come get to know me at my innermost…”

Riveting, Earl raps. Earl raps are riveting. We fix to the flow—riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s. We’re invited to know Earl, to become familiar, and his “innermost” is a constant vacillation between optimism and [afro]pessimism. The sudden switches—these switches on bitches like fixed with hydraulics—establish what Danny Schwartz, writing for Rolling Stone, called an “uneven terrain.”

Earl’s “family business [is] anguished,” and that’s recognizable. We’ve known Earl (on “Chum”) with the “pendulum swinging slow” and low. He holed up, hostage-like, in his “heart’s bottomless pit.” Poe’s “The Pit and the Pendulum” (1842) brand of captivity. “I was sick,” that narrator says, “—sick unto death with that long agony.” Something tells me there should be an exclamation point there (SICK!). Earl Sweatshirt was down, down, down. “I was in the fucking pits for like 10 months post my pops dying,” he said in an interview. The Spanish Inquisition ain’t shit.

But for these countless downs, “OD” tracks the ups like naloxone in the nasal membrane. “Now I need atonement,” Earl notes—he makes a case for reparations. He “sets the goal[s]” like some motivational speaker. If “half [his] wings is broken,” he can “spread the other for [his] brodie OD.” Somewhat circumspect as he’s “tiptoeing,” yet the approach is laden with “too much love.” Even when his “sister showed in a rut,” he’s joining arms with her and “getting over, sending up.” That rut she walks—like Eudora Welty’s worn path (1941)—is a path through the pinewoods, and she’s suddenly Phoenix Jackson. “She was very old and small,” Welty writes, and she moves “with the balanced heaviness and lightness of a pendulum in a grandfather clock.” Even with her pentium processing and pendulum low, she swings back up—the rise of her namesake. She screams phoenix, her feathers and flames are one skin. “Living in the moment,” Earl raps, and his craft is bars. “You been corrupt”—and, sure, who hasn’t?—but you recover with “some ginabot.” Welty’s Old Phoenix surveys a spring “silently flowing through a hollow log.” She bends and drinks and says, “Sweet gum makes the water sweet.” It’s the equivalent to Earl putting “shilajit in his sippy cup,” which is “healing cuts revealingly.” And, yes, from a “sippy cup,” so we’re back to toddling around again (“Since a jit,” he says). “I can’t give enough,” Earl raps, his last winding-sheet made of nard and myrrh.

10.

We crouch and teeter, caterwauling along the ledges, for we’ve got these clumsy feet of clay. This is the intended effect[/defect]; this is the rubble of what Earl calls the “crumbling empire.” This is us feeling the violent vibes of the “death throes” he speaks of. Why would we expect anything to resemble traditional song or rhyme structure when the earth quakes, civilization trembles, and Earl’s dungeon shakes? His chains have fallen off. The tenor is tremors. He’s living the trife life—hell on earth—but still living. Earl’s done trying to not look down—he embraces an outer appearance which scans dour; he deliberately gazes into the pit, inviting the vertigo, for it “haunts the whole of existence,” as Fanon says. But Frank B. Wilderson III promises a “vengeance of vertigo.”

11.

Gallons of rubbing alcohol flow through the strip, and Earl’s lips. He’s “refilling the pump”—his heart, yeah—but with a sawed-off shotgun, hand-on-the-pump posture. There’s “no concealing it,” not even with a concealed carry permit. He brandishes right back at “the enemy up in arms bearing snubs.” The mood swings; been down so long it looks like up to him. The turns require tourniquets. This is some Battle of Dak To torture—somewhere between Retaliation and the Heavenly Divine. Emotional turmoil seems violent by design, and Earl’s “memory [is] really leaking blood.” Fear not, the blood is “congealing, stuck.” Like Havoc says, “The Mobb rollin’ thicker.” Prodigy cites it, too: “This ain’t rap—it’s bloodsport.” But Earl has known that all along—he’s been “mobbin’ deep as ’96 Havoc and Prodigy did” since 2013.

12.

HipHopDX’s Kevin Cortez referred to listeners having to “sift through the muddle” in order to appreciate the bars, but where muddle suggests a disorderly conduct, a kaos network, Earl’s style, more appropriately, models. The woozy, wavy, and inner-conflict-war-torn vocals model an abstraction that anticipates the listener’s loyalty. This is what I’ve got, brief and cryptic as the gesture may be, the model says. Writing for NME, Dhruva Balram described Earl’s lyrics as “slurred,” but slurry is the form.

13.

If the empire can deploy Orwellian technologies of repression, its outcasts have the gods of chaos on their side…

—Mike Davis, Planet of Slums (2005)

So if we’re giving ourselves over to the woozes and waves, we’ll just as well find ourselves lost. Let’s go—like those tourist books run by students—and let’s wander eastward. Follow our napkin-scrawled directions and disorientations to a somewhere elsewhere. Let’s go east for a second, for a spell, on a lark, in the dark (word to AKAI SOLO). Earl’s bloodwork contains “pieces of slums”—or more aptly, [sLUms]. He’s hand-to-hand with that Jungle Boy MIKE, but also the god Mike Davis. “[T]he cities of the future,” Davis wrote, would be “constructed out of crude brick, straw, recycled plastic, cement blocks, and scrap wood.” Just the same as an Earl Sweatshirt verse is built—under the tutelage and overstanding-sharing, symbiotically, with MIKE. Davis says our cities aren’t “cities of light soaring toward heaven,” but a world that “squats in squalor, surrounded by pollution, excrement, and decay.” Smells like somebody tooted in the student commons. Smells like a slum village, something we’ve smelled before—possibly coming straight from the slums of Shaolin.

14. ACID EASTERNS

Earl trekked to the East and squinted into “one beacon in the dust weaving”—like Clint Eastwood arriving out of the hazy horizon ether of High Plains Drifter (1973). But Earl is heading to the East, blackwards. And though Brother J claimed you can’t define what’s direct from the East, Jeru told us on The Sun Rises in the East that you can’t stop the prophet either. So on “EAST,” Earl traverses a tricky terrain—it’s tricky, tricky, tricky because it’s an acid western landscape: an acid eastern.

The path isn’t direct or linear—it zigs and zags like rolling papers, and stimulates the same. “Double back when you got it made,” Earl says at the start of his journey “EAST.” The objective is to talk sense condensed into the form of a poem like Special Ed once did on “I Got It Made.” Instead, Earl’s poems—his L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E poems—skew [non]sense, go form[less], and vaporize rather than condense. Lyn Hejinian in cinnamon Timbs: “constant change figures / the time we sense.” The narrative is hallucinogenic (note: “how the story careen against the bars”). Earl’s bindle contains “thirty racks and weed [with] no fat in the collard greens.” That’s how he gets funky on the mic like an old batch. That’s how he gets sincerity on the mic: “Off top it’s me—no cap, / I don’t bottle things.” That buck that bought a bottle could’ve struck the lotto, maybe. But Earl’s “canteen was full of the poison [he] need[s].” He gets where he’s going like El Topo, bereft. The “trip was long and steep”—that being an acid trip—so let me see you try to ride a horse into the chasms of the canyon.

“EAST” is a death meditation, a grand duel between Dantean and Donneian lyric voices [he damn-near well should’ve double-tracked the vocals]. In a 2015 interview with SPIN, Earl is asked about the worst thing he did that year, to which he replies: “Umm…acid?” He elaborates: “I took it at a time when I really didn’t need to be taking acid. I had like a fucking existential crisis at, like, four in the morning. But it was tight. We reeled it back.” Jodorowsky called El Topo (1970) an “eastern” in that it “incorporat[ed] ancient eastern wisdom in the materiality of American cowboys.” For Earl, it’s more a rhinestone cowboy—he holds the cold one like he holds an old gun (as evidenced in the “EAST” music video). DOOM was no stranger to grief, of course, and the rumors persist regarding the bad acid that precipitated Subroc’s early demise (“Bad Acid” also being the original title for “December 24”).

Estranged Earl, alienated—a high plains drifter (not Clint Eastwood, though) who rechristens a town “Hell” through a baptism of blood. Like the Beastie Boys’ version, Earl pulls out a pair of pliers and pulls a bullet out of his chest. He pulls through, true and living. “I’m long distance from my girl,” Mike D raps, so he’s “talking on the cellular,” but Earl is more alienated than that—beyond racking up roaming charges, immersed in dead zones. He “lost [his] phone and consequently all the feelings [he] caught for [his] GF.” Relationships can’t be sustained in these bleak and barren locations. All the blood has been drained from the ruddy faces—sanguine scenery. In his essay “On the Acid Western,” Jonathan Rosenbaum discusses how the subgenre “refuses to respect or valorize bloodshed.” Memory really leaking blood. Congealing. Stuck. To paraphrase Rosenbaum, Earl’s acid eastern “formulat[es] a chilling, savage frontier poetry to justify [his] hallucinated agenda—a view at once clear-eyed and visionary, exalted and laconic, moral and unsentimental, witty and beautiful, frightening and placid.” Earl’s “innocence was lost in the East,” and obsessives speculate whether this refers to Samoa or New York City—how far east we going? Countless spirit-questers pit-stopping at ashrams, searching for that Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal guide.

“I wait a beat,” Earl says. His canteen stays filled, auto-replenishes. His “cognitive dissonance shattered” and the “necessary venom restored.” Jodorowsky reportedly once taped snakes to his chest for an experimental theater performance. As if it matters if you think it matters anymore. Or, as ELUCID says, “Words mean things but don’t have to.” Acids and bases. Occident and Orient. Western and Eastern. Up is down.

15. NOTHING LIKE US EVER WAS

Earl’s “EAST” accordion beat—or whatever Orkes Gambus Al Fata instrumentation is at work—is more madcap than madvillainous. In my head is Erick Sermon, though, speaking about how “the flow slow…like a jazz player, or someone on the accordion” on “Knick Knack Patty Wack.” But I’m less concerned with the flow of air through bellows—compressing and expanding—than I am with Earl’s rendering of wind. (Somebody tooted.)

“Let the dead be dead,” Carl Sandburg says at stanza’s end in “Four Preludes on the Playthings of the Wind” (1920). Later, he reports, “The only singers now are crows crying.” And so Earl, a lonesome crow, reminds us—and himself—that “the wind get the ashes in the end” on “December 24.” The whining, wheezing consonance of /-nd/ in “wind” and “end” manages to evoke both the wind itself and the circularity of life. The bar whooshes and whips until we’re at our end, the terminus. That circularity, that full circle: ashes to ashes. “We are the greatest city,” Sandburg repeats, “the greatest nation: / nothing like us ever was.”

Global winds be blowin’—[Of the Soul]—and so billy woods cites that same line on “Haarlem”: “Thebe said the wind get the ashes in the end, bruv.” Check the configuration of the rhime:

The wind | gets | the ashes | in | the end {birth} {life} {death}

Even that get does work—whether it’s the violence of Death Grips’ “get got”; Too $hort threatening you to “get in where you fit in”; or the satirical sadism of Keenen Ivory Wayans’ I’m Gonna Git You Sucka. The wind wins out—it gets what it wants. On “EAST,” the wind—infinitely personified—“whispered to [Earl], ‘Ain’t it hard?’” It ain’t hard to tell that it is. How about some hardcore? Yeah, we like it raw like M.O.P. But those burns yield ashes. In Adrienne Rich’s poem “The Burning of Paper Instead of Children” (1989), she struggles with the words she uses, knowing “[t]his is the oppressor’s language / yet [she] needs to talk to you.” I know it hurts to burn, she writes, but writing is no less ardent. “The typewriter is overheated, my mouth is burning.”

Let me bring it back to Robert Bly. “In the ancient times,” Bly says, “the movement for the men was downward—a descent into grief. It’s referred to in the fairytale as ‘the time of ashes.’” Ashes, he explains, is the “code word for the ‘out of it’ time.”

We know what it is like to take ashes in our hands. How light they are! The fingertips experience them as a kind of powder… Ashes, we note, find their way into the whorls of our fingertips, cling there, make the whorls more noticeable, more visible, more clear to us. We can take our own fingerprints with ashes.

Ashes, then, aren’t simply for the wind’s taking—ashes are for us, are necessary for us to transcend the grief the boys, the men, and the man-child experience. Bly points to the various cultures that have used ashes in initiation rites: “Ashes Time is a time set aside for the death of that ego-bound boy.” Ready to give up, so you seek the Old Earth. The elders cover your face—even your whole body—with ashes “to make [you] the color of dead people and to remind [you] of the inner death about to come.” Consider Earl’s ashen white face produced in the negative imagery of the “Grief” music video.” “The word ashes contains in it a dark feeling for death,” Bly says. “Ashes when put on the face whiten as death does.”

Earl Sweatshirt is a far cry from knocking blunt ashes into caskets.

16.

Feet of clay, hands of light…

—Moor Mother and billy woods, “Furies” (2020)

For Cheryl I. Harris, Earl’s mother, the feet of clay refer to a vulnerability we all possess no matter how formidable we may appear to become. Earl invokes the King of Babylon’s dream, a dream of an idol “meant to represent all the empires of the world,” echoing Sandburg’s imperious “greatest nation.” Earl believes “we at the feet of clay right now…We posted up live from burning Rome.” Imagine the ash pile. So Earl is here, ostensibly, to turn the disco into something dismal—how Mtume becomes “MTOMB” with its entombed sonics, as if he’s rapping from within a wall, the victim of some Poe immurement.

17.

“I remember woods,” Earl raps on “OD.” “I remember Endom when he wasn’t remembering much, / I remember love healing the ruptures.” I remember is also the refrain and title of Joe Brainard’s poem-memoir, a term which aptly describes much of Earl’s recent output. Brainard’s memories bum-rush into the present:

I remember a dream I used to have a lot of a beautiful red and yellow and black snake in bright green grass. I remember painting “I HATE TED BERRIGAN” in big black letters all over my white wall. I remember liver.

If Earl recalls love “healing the ruptures,” then he also likely recalls Fanon: It is essential to convey to the black man that an attitude of rupture has never saved anyone. But Fanon also speaks of young Black men “maintain[ing] their alterity. Alterity of rupture, of conflict, of battle.” Earl, “feeling rushed, grew up quick.” He echoes Biggie, who “grew up a fucking screw-up,” and Raekwon, who “grew up on the crime side” (though Earl’s mama taught him, as we know from “Grief,” how to avoid the pigs, persecution, and prosecution). Eyes on the clock, Earl acknowledges this “trip around the sun” is his “25th,” so “give it up”—his survival alone deserving of a standing [on the corner] ovation. He celebrates life with “gin and rum.” Again, notably not gin and juice—murder was never the case. The only death is the inner death, the death of the ego-bound boy, that Bly describes. Earl’s gin is the drink of be[gin]ning, of genesis (“Light them Phillies up then…”), of Super Nintendo, Sega Genesis, when I was dead-broke, man… “We wasn’t supposed to be alive,” Earl says, yet here he stands.

18. RUMINANT

Stare at the Feet of Clay album cover—an evocation of folkloric imagery: a Grimm forest with gnarled tree branches—and the enchanted, diabolic goat lying in wait. Earl’s parasocial following speculate G.O.A.T., of course, but I’m more inclined to mythopoeic possibilities. The Feet of Clay goat glares like Baphomet but frolics like a faun over fractured beats. “OD,” Earl has stated, “brought [him] up out of [his] little wreck”—a wreck of wracked nerves. Adrienne Rich encourages “diving into the wreck” (1973).

I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power.

Earl’s right there with her, submerged and blacking out, but still surviving: Really leaking blood, but refilling the pump.

In her essay “Teaching New Worlds/New Words,” bell hooks invokes Rich’s struggle to navigate the “oppressor’s language.” For hooks, as a Black writer, managing that is even more difficult and historical. “I think now of the grief of displaced ‘homeless’ Africans, forced to inhabit a world where they saw folks like themselves, inhabiting the same skin, the same condition, but who had no shared language to talk with one another, who needed ‘the oppressor’s language.’” hooks explains how Black folks have “remade that language so that it would speak beyond the boundaries of conquest and domination.”

Earl Sweatshirt, especially in his later work, has “altered [and] transformed” English, just as “enslaved Black people took broken bits of English and made of them a counter-language.” The emotional wreckage is also a linguistic heap of fragments—micro-fragments, if we’ve learned anything from Saafir. Earl, in the tradition of his ancestors, “put[s] together [his] words in such a way that the colonizer ha[s] to rethink the meaning of the English language.” “The grammatical construction of sentences in these songs” by Earl, just as by the spirituals of hundreds of years prior, “reflect[s] the broken, ruptured world of the slave.” That crumbling empire Earl mentions was faulted by feet of clay.

At the Museum of Contemporary Art in Los Angeles in 2019, sharing a dais with his mother, Cherly I. Harris, Earl spoke to this lineage directly: “Rap music is slave music—the modern-day iteration of it. Slave communication had to be encrypted. You got a code.” He shifted: “If I know what I’m saying…I can teach it to you.” On Feet of Clay, Earl is teaching to transgress. “I’m cracking my own code,” he says to an audience member during the Q&A, “how it comes out garbled…,” and then he trails off, as if making a deliberate effort to keep his answer cryptic.

hooks always saw language as “a site of resistance.” This included the incorrect usage and placement of words—she called such practices a “rebellion.” Weaponizing syntax. hooks recognized rap music as a continuation of this fight—the latest [sound]clash, hip-hop artists as rebels without a pause—while still acknowledging the collateral damage it might cause.

Rap music has become one of the spaces where black vernacular speech is used in a manner that invites dominant mainstream culture to listen—to hear—and, to some extent, be transformed. However, one of the risks of this attempt at cultural translation is that it will trivialize black vernacular speech. When young white kids imitate this speech in ways that suggest it is the speech of those who are stupid or who are only interested in entertaining or being funny, then the subversive power of this speech is undermined.

Or, as Earl once said on “Chum,” “Too Black for the white kids and too white for the Blacks,” an axiom he’s come to loathe. Perhaps Fanon had the better bar on this subject: “The white man had the anguished feeling that I was escaping from him and that I was taking something with me. He went through my pockets. He thrust probes into the least circumvolution of my brain. Everywhere he found only the obvious. So it was obvious that I had a secret.”

Despite the pitfalls (and, yeah, the pit is bottomless), Earl’s words play [wordplay] a part in retraining minds, all while exorcizing his own demons through a steady diet of ashes and fractures. hooks promises us that “in the patient act of listening to another tongue we may subvert that culture of capitalist frenzy and consumption that demands all desire must be satisfied immediately.” Through his embrace of a language that indulges in passion and cerebral coding, Earl “heal[s] the splitting of mind and body” so common within Western metaphysical thought. Earl Sweatshirt speaks “words that do more than simply mirror or address the dominant reality”; he builds blips into a reality that is worth the rewind.

Images: Dead Man, dir. Jim Jarmusch, 1995 (screenshot) | Teen at 1990s computer photograph, Unknown (c. 1996) | James Joyce, Age 2, Unknown | ELUCID, Osage album cover (2016), photo by Michael Mally, Philadelphia Inquirer | The Boxer at Rest, bronze statue, Palazzo Massimo alle Terme, Rome, Italy (330-50 BC) | Alphonse Legros, The Pit and the Pendulum, second Plate (1861) | High Plains Drifter, dir. Clint Eastwood, 1973 (screenshot) | Subroc on an Apple IIc, Unknown (c. 1987) | Earl Sweatshirt, “Grief” music video, 2015 (screenshot) | Arthur Rackham, The Water of Life, Grimms Fairy Tales (1916) | Dead Man, dir. Jim Jarmusch, 1995 (screenshot)

#earl sweatshirt #underground hip hop #rap #backwoodz studioz #elucid #billy woods #moor mother

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angelofacidx · 5 months

Text

Self indulgent drabble

Dark! Soap x reader

CW: Alcohol use, gaslighting, cnc.

Local shitty dive bars around whatever base he’d been stationed at became almost a second home to Johnny. He liked the predictability, the dinginess, and the burn in his chest of the night’s pick of the poison. The entertainment was nice too, a few pretty girls to bed later or a brawl started between two intoxicated sweaty men. What more could he want?

Soap wasn’t used to big cities. Scratch that. Big American cities. He found himself right at the heart of one after a mission involving some high profile bastard, rather easy to hunt down and giving him time to kill. After all was said and done his hotel room was still paid for and his flight back to base didn’t leave for another two days. A quick google search of the area brought up more bars than he’d ever seen in his life with a myriad of pretentious names and neon banners.

It wasn’t long until Johnny found himself standing outside between two crimson velvet ropes in a line full of people and dressed down in his civvies. The music vibrated the walls loud enough to seep outside, the bass of some shitty Sean Paul song already setting the prescient for the night. He had half a mind to try another place until your form burned itself into his brain. A short black glittery dress, the hem ending just below the swell of your ass. Long lithe legs and calves flexed from being stilted on black heels. Fuck, you were a vision.

Eavesdropping on your conversation let him know you were already tipsy, one of your friends calling you “Sooooo crazzzyyyy tee hee” for killing off the last of her Tito’s before the group had left the house. It was apparent the more he soaked you in, the glossy eyes and slightly mussed hair. The way you stumbled slightly on your heels just standing like a foal taking its first steps. Johnny could work with this.

He stalked behind your group for an hour or so, watching the drinks flow and your inhibitions slipping further and further. The DJ in this place knew how to work girls your age. The trashy Y2K dance music and alcohol made your hips sway in circles as you held onto your friends shoulders and half screamed lyrics at each other. The ministration held his attention, making his eye twitch slightly and his brain short circuit. He wondered if you could ride cock like that.

He gets the courage to approach you then, tapping your shoulder and taking you out of your trance as you turned to face him. His eyes drifted from your face to your tits for a moment before refocusing back to your eyes. Behave, Johnny.

“Hey! It’s been so long since I seen ye! Jason’s mate.” Johnny said with a big smile, his eyes trustworthy as he prayed to god the generic American name would make a connection somewhere in your brain for him to prey on.

He watched you study his face in silence, trying to place him but the alcohol doing no favors to jog your memory.

“Wait. Bri’s ex Jason or Jason from the frat?” You slurred, eyes still scanning his face and figure.

“Bri’s ex. Can’t believe I ran into ye here.” He said with an assured nod, reaching out to hug you.

Your breasts squished against his chest in the hug, arms wrapped around your lower back and he was practically foaming at the mouth restraining himself from grabbing your ass. He let go of the hug begrudgingly but smiled with teeth bared when you handed him an extra shot your friend has ordered.

Holy shit. It was that easy. He was in.

As the two of you talked about “Jason”, your job, his “finance major”, and everything in between he fed you drink after drink. Your words and thoughts became less coherent—not like they were to begin with, the aforementioned pregame hit you hard. Your body leaned against him as you danced, your ass grinding into the hard bulge at the apex of his jeans, earning a deep growl.

He wanted to bend you over then and there, grab the soft flesh of your hips and rut into you like an animal in front of God and everybody in that bar. His restraint wore thin with another push of your ass against him, a whine rising to his throat. He took out his phone then, calling an Uber for the two of you.

You were clearly trashed, a potential safety risk to yourself he told your shitty friends. Let him take you back to your house, he’ll even text them when you arrive safely. He knows where you live. He’s Jason’s friend and they can trust him, so they do. With a hand on your lower back ass, he guides you outside to the curb and tracks down the Uber, opening the door for you.

…

The morning light is absolutely blinding. You feel disgusting and sweaty, reeking of alcohol and sweat. Your arm reaches for your bed side table where you pray your phone is only to be met with air. Huh?

You sit up quickly, your head throbbing as you do. Your eyes open slowly and your surroundings are completely unfamiliar. A hotel? You attempt to get out of bed but the pounding in your head and your cunt stop you, muscles betraying you and your throat letting out a guttural groan.

A man steps out from the bathroom then, white towel around his waist and dark hair sopping wet. His face brings back memories of last night; the club, the dancing, getting fingered in the uber, being folded in half as he begged to cum in you even though you told him you weren’t on any contraceptives. That seemed to make him blow his load immediately.

But now with his face clearer than before you can see he is not Jason’s friend.

“Who the fuck…?” You trail off, pulling the blanket over yourself for some form of modest.

“Johnny. Real pleasure to meet ye.” He says with a shit eating grin, moving towards you with the same animalistic look in his eye that he had last night.

#john soap mactavish #cod x reader #soap x reader #cod #cod mw2 #soap #dark k!nk

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twice-inamillion · 1 year

Text

Meeting Her Parents

Smut (rough sex, deep penetration, creampie)

Chapter 176

It's the following day after the concert, and the Osaka part of the tour is finally over. This means some free time until the following two shows in about a week.

The Japanese members have decided to stay in Japan for the week and spend time with their families. The rest of the members are planning on going back to Korea and resting back home.

Having the groups divided in two, you decided to stay in Japan after having a conversation with Jihyo last night. "Make sure you keep them safe, okay?" Jihyo hugs you goodbye. "Yes, I'll try to keep from any trouble. Please watch over the rest of the members and the babies." As you're able to leave, she pulls you back in and says, "good luck," and smiles.

You watch as the rest of the members board the private plane and wave from the windows. The plane hatch closes, and you watch it leave from the hanger and go towards the runway. You wave a last goodbye as you watch the plane finally take off and head to Korea.

You head back to the hotel where Momo and Sana are staying. Once you arrive, all three of you grab your suitcases and check out.

"Let's get someone to eat; I'm starving," says Momo. "Yes, let's have a small breakfast," says Sana as she holds onto your arm. "Okay, let's go."

You drive to a local shop that both Momo and Sana are comprised of and begin to drive. Once you get there, all three of your order a nice meal and talk about the concert that just passed.

After breakfast, you arrive at Momo's house, walk her to the door and tell her to message you when she's ready to get picked up. The front door opens, and you are greeted by Momo's mom. You greet her a good afternoon, "Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm here to drop off Momo today. Here is my number if you need to reach me, I'm available for you at all times," as you give her your business card. She gladly accepts your card and wishes you farewell as you return to the car. "Good luck, oppa!" shouts Momo.

You walk back to the car and think about what Momo said, "Did you tell Momo what happened?" You can tell she did avoid your look, "tee hee, it slipped ."

"Haha… it slipped. I don't think you said it by accident." She looks at you with an innocent face, but you know how she really is and finally breaks character. "Okay… it didn't slip. I found it funny and couldn't keep it to myself, so I might have told Momo and others." You nod your head in disappointment and just leave Momo's driveway.

You stop to get a gift for her parents since this is your first official visit. You'd wish you met in better circumstances, but now you can't do anything about it.

As you get closer to Sana's house, you begin to get nervous. "Do you have some pointers for when I meet your parents? I don't want to make it any worse than I already did." Sana thinks momentarily and says, "well… my dad is not a bad guy. He's a doting parent since I'm his only child. With my mom, I don't think she'll give you a hard time since I'm a mini version of her. If I tell her you're okay, she'll accept you. Just be yourself and show them your good points."

Taking this to heart, you finally arrive at her house. You work your way to the passenger door and open the door for "thanks, babe" as she kisses you on the cheek. "Please don't mess around. I'm already nervous as it is."

Walking with a gift, Sana pushes the doorbell, and you both wait for it to open. It feels like forever as you wait for someone to open the door, wishing it to be the mother rather than the dad.

The door opens, and you see a slender figure, "welcome home, my baby," as she goes to hug Sana. "I'm home, Okāsan." After a warm reunión, Sana introduces you to her mom. "This is my manager… well, my Oppa" as she tightly hugs your arm. "Nice to meet you. I'm sorry that we are meeting under these circumstances, but thank you for inviting me," as you give a slight bow.

With Sana's mom inviting you in, all three of you walk into the living room and sit on the couch. The three of you discuss how Sana is doing in Korea and with the tour. Her mom mentions how proud she is of Sana and how she's been watching her appearances on tv. You let her know she's been doing her best work and positively influences the group.

Happy to hear the positive feedback back on her; you see how much she cares for her, making you feel worse inside with how you ruined her daughter. “Okāsan, where is Otōsan?”

"He's in the back prepping to cook some meat." "Really? I'm going to go say hi. Come with me Oppa" Sana grabs your arm. You both walk towards the back of the house and see her dad at the countertop preparing some meat. "Otōsan… I'm home," as she walks towards him. "Sana, you're back. Welcome home," hugging his daughter.

"I want to introduce you to my Oppa" and immediately bow out of respect. "Nice to meet you. Thank you for coming and meeting us today. I hope my wife was able to greet you." "Yes, thank you for inviting me today."

"I'm preparing the meat for today's dinner, so why don't you guy me and help me cook it while the girls work in the kitchen."

"He's excellent when it comes to cooking, Otōsan. He won't disappoint." "Grab an apron, and let's get started."

With Sana in the kitchen with her mother, you are alone with her dad. Trying not to disappoint you, prepare your A-game and take off your jacket. Putting on the apron, you wash your hands and ask Sana's dad what to do.

"Sana said you're good at cooking, so I'll let you show me what you got."

———————-

"Do you with Otōsan is going to get along with Oppa?"

"You know how he is; he's just worried for you. Who would have expected we would catch you two in the act."

"I'm so embarrassed. I thought I locked the door like usual."

Sana's mom looks suspiciously at her, "so you're saying that you both are currently active?"

"Well… you can say that. We have sex here and there. I'm usually the one that asks for it."

"Sana, are you trying to say that you found the one? Someone to make your wish come true?"

Getting caught off guard by her mother's comment, "yeah… I think I might have found someone to make me a mommy."

"If you think he's the one, I will give you my full support. Your dad will be okay with it if you're serious."

"Well… it's not like dad can say anything about it. I mean, you did the same thing with him, right?" Sana's mom doesn't respond, which answers her question.

—————

After spending a while with Sana's dad, you feel he is okay with you. There are times here and there that he watches and asks you about your bbq methods.

Wanting to get on his good side, you give him step-by-step instructions on your bbq techniques. "Sana was right; you're an excellent cook." Happy to hear a positive comment from him means a lot or you. "I'm the main one that cooks for the members. I make them nutritious food.

"I'm happy that Sana gets to eat some delicious food. In my book, you don't seem to be a bad guy. I can tell you care about your group by the way you cook. Too bad we had to want on you in that compromising position."

"I'm sorry that you saw that, sir; I don't have any words to tell you how sorry I am."

"Well… my wife and I were trying to surprise our daughter, but we were the ones who ended up surprised to find you both being intimate with each other."

Before you can respond, Sana comes out from the house, "the food is ready. Mom is calling you both inside." "We'll be there soon," responds Sana's dad.

—————

After having dinner and engaging in some talk and drink, it was finally time to discuss the main reason for the visit.

"So… Oppa and I wanted to explain the situation when you both walked in on us."

"Yes, again, I want to apologize for what you both saw that night and let you know that I respect your daughter and treat her with respect."

"Yes, Oppa and I have been in a sexual relationship for a while," says Sana.

"Oh? Does that mean it's serious?" asks dad.

You try to respond, but you're cut off by Sana. "At first, it was steaming hot sex, but after a while, we decided on breeding sex."

"Wait…. We? There is no we; it's all you," you say internally, not knowing what Sana is talking about.

"Ohh, then this means it's really serious. Are you both planning on getting together?" asks the mom.

"Yes, we plan on getting pregnant but haven't succeeded. I don't know what to do. Maybe I'm doing something wrong?"

"What do you mean something wrong? Does he have a weak libido, or is he incompetent?" asks dad.

"Wait… my… libido is pretty good, and I'm sure I'm not incompetent. I know that for a fact."

"Have you gotten tested? "Unfortunately, some men are unable to produce good seed," says Sana's dad.

You feel offended by what they're suggesting and want to tell them that they have the wrong idea, but you do not want to make it worse than it already is, so you try to calm down and relax.

"Dad… don't say that. Oppa is really good at sex, and there is nothing wrong with his seed. If we wanted to, he could have bred all of us by now." She stops and covers her mouth, realizing what she has done.

"What do you mean by that, honey," asked Sana's mom.

"Nothing, I… I didn't mean anything."

"Don't lie. You said something about having "bred all of us by now" what does that mean?

Sana looks at you with a regretful face, knowing that she might have made this worse. At this point, it's better to come out clean so you give her a nod. "Well… I'm not the only one he's having sex with… there are other members."

You see their surprised face as they try to guess who those members are. "How many members?" asks Sana's mom. Sana holds her arm up and shows her hand, "five so far. Well, that I'm aware of." Her father's face is one of disbelief and he can't process what he just heard. "How can you handle that many girls?" asks Sana's father.

"It's because he's perfect. He's strong and has a lot of stamina, plus his cock is huge. When I took it for the first time, I nearly fainted from how big it was. Don't even get me started with how he got the three of them pregnant, haha. It's a funny story."

"Sana… wait…" unable to keep Sana from spilling out more information.

"What do you mean he got three of you girls pregnant? Does it mean that you have kids?"

"Yes, I have kids. Four to be exact and they are lovely little girls. And yes I had sex with multiple members, and your daughter is one of them. I won't hide it anymore and I won't apologize for it either. I respect you both as Sana's parents and I hope you respect me and my choices."

"Not bad. A guy who can stand up for himself. That's a good quality to have, especially for someone who's with my daughter. She's a handful for sure," says Sana's mom.

"What do you mean?"

I mean that you're more than qualified to handle my little girl. We both know that Sana and be a bit much at times. Trust me, raising her was not easy, she was friendly with everyone and would often say how she wanted to be a mommy since I could remember. Letting her go and pursue the life of an idol was a hard choice and would often worry me. I was afraid that someone might lead her to just have sex with her and toss her aside, but you're different; you have a reason to stay and commit to a family. I like that. I might not be in the best situation with you having multiple women, but I can clearly see that you can satisfy my daughter sexually and with your seed."

"Are both not upset?

"We are surprised for sure and a bit overwhelmed with what Sana said, but if you can make her wish come true, then we won't stop her. That's what you want, right Sana?"

"Yes Okāsan, I really want to have a baby and he's the one I choose to do it with."

"Okay, if that's the case then let's celebrate."

More drinks are poured and everyone gets over the top. You get to see the real side of Sana's parents as you drink with the family. You notice that Sana's mom is flirty when she drinks and asks playful questions that you would expect.

"How how big is your cock?"

"Okāsan, that's wired don't ask him that."

"I just want to know why the rest of your members like him so much. It must be big if that's the case."

"Don't answer that oppa, she gets all silly when drunk."

"Don't say that, dear. You'll scare him off. How about you don't tell me but show me instead? I want to see how much you're packing."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Your husband might get upset."

"He's fine. After a couple of drinks, he's out of it. Come and show us. I need to ensure she's getting satisfied," as she tries to grab onto you.

"It's this big" Sana tries to demonstrate your size using her hands.

"Oh, maybe 6-7 inches? Not bad."

"No, more like 8 or 9 inches," says Sana shyly.

"Wow… you must be really hung down there. If only I was younger…."

"Mom… he's mine. You have dad already. "

"I know… but his body looks so good, especially his arms; they're so big."

"Don't say that. Maybe that's why I'm like this. I learned it from you. Hearing you and dad have sex all the time…."

"I'm sorry dear… I didn't know that. With your dad working out of town, we tried to get it on every time he returned. Your dad was a very healthy man and someone who could keep up with my high libido," as she began to massage her husband's thigh.

"Eww… not in here; Oppa is here right now," whines Sana.

"You're right. Let's call it a day. Spend the night the both of you; it's too late to drive."

"Okay, we'll stay."

"Come on, Otosan, you're coming with me tonight. All this talking has made me horny," as Sana's mom pulls her husband by the hand to their room. They close the door and immediately, you can hear some giggling coming out from there.

"I'm sorry, Oppa that you had to see this."

"It's okay; they love each, which is good."

"Well… watching my parents all lovey-dovey has gotten me in the mood, too. So maybe… maybe you can spend the night in my room with me?" as Sana places with her fingers.

"But we're still a bit drunk…."

Sana walks towards you and leans on your ear and says, "wanna fuck me in my high school uniform?"

You nod and she skips to her room, telling you to wait for her signal. As you wait for her, you clean up as much as possible, throwing away beer cans and other alcoholic drinks.

Thinking of walking into Sana's old bedroom felt nerve-racking since you didn't know what to expect. Suddenly you see the door slightly open. "I'm ready" is the only thing you hear.

"Sensei, I've been a bad girl… my skirt is too small, and maybe you might need to teach this student of yours how to be a proper girl" she slowly lifts up her skirt, revealing her thick thighs and no panties on.

Watching Sana in her old high school uniform is getting you hard. "Do you think my uniform still fits me well?" she asks.

"Yes, you look amazing."

"How about now?" as she sits on the bed and slowly opens her legs, revealing her leaking pussy.

"Perfect."

————

The night continues as both rooms in the house are filled with sounds of ranging sex. Every once in a while, you can hear Sana's mom moan as she's getting fucked in the other room. You try to mask the voices from the room next door by thrusting into Sana even harder.

"Ahh… ahhh… fuck me deeper," moans Sana as you grab her by the pigtails. You watch as her ass jiggles every time your body crashes into her. Fucking Sana in her high school uniform is a hot and new experience.

"Sensei, sensei, I've been a bad girl. I need you to punish me until I become a good girl. Please fuck me harder!"

You push her down onto the bed and press your hand on her back. You slap her ass, one hit after another, until its red. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes! Yes! Just like that, now punish me with your seed! Make sure that my womb only listens to you, only you."

You pull out your cock and slap it on her right butt cheek, covering it with precum. Once you are ready, you align it and thrust it back inside with one try. Sana grunts from being stabbed by your cock and tears flow down her face from the pleasure and pain. "You're going to mess up my womb; your cock is too big."

With your cock all the way inside you place your body on top of her and whisper, "make sure you take my whole load," as you release a tsunami of cum into her womb. "Hmm… it feels hot. I missed this feeling. I can feel your swimmers making their way inside of me."

Many more rounds continue until you need to catch your breath. You make your way into the kitchen in the middle of the night. "Busy night, huh" you turn, trying to figure out where the voice is coming from.

Sana's mom turns on the light and you see her sitting down on the chair, drinking a cup of orange juice. "I'm sorry, i didn't see you."

"It's okay, Sana's dad feel asleep so I decided to come out and take a breather. Seems like you're doing the same thing. Having fun with my little Sana?"

"You could say that."

"Good for her; I'm happy she found the one to make her wish come true."

"Better me than someone else, right? Also where are the cups?"

"Ohh… on the top shelf."

You go for the top shelf and grab a cup to serve yourself some juice before back for another round but didn't realize that Sana's bathrobe would fit you short.

"Wow… Sana wasn't lying your really big."

"What do you mean?"

"Umm… that robe you are wearing fits you quite short, and I can see your cock."

You just leave from embarrassment and rush back to the room. Sana laughs as you tell her what just happened. "Haha that's funny. My mom is getting to know you quite well." "I was going to die, its never happened to me before." "Don't worry about it and come back to me for another round."

——-

Sana's mom knocks on the door, "kids, breakfast is ready!" She waits a couple of seconds, but there is no answer.

"They're not answering. Should I go in and see if they are okay?"

"Just let them sleep. They must be tired from playing all night," says dad.

"Let's check, just in case."

Both parents knock and wait a moment before opening the door. They are surprised to see the position of the two people in front of them.

"Oh my, they must have been really busy" says mom as she sees you spooning Sana with your cock inside of her.

"Is that a bulge? Wait… does he have a morning wood while being instead of Sana?"

They look at each other and laugh as they close the door and let you both sleep.

#twice smut #kpop smut #male reader #twice #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana smut #sana minatozaki #sana #twice-inamillion #TM smut

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rachi-roo · 8 months

Text

--------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }-------------

Bungo Stray Dogs: Thank you!

A LATE BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR MY PAL @nataliewritez !!! 🥳🎉

Just some sillies with their favourite goober, Ango and bastard Dazai! ^^

I hope you like it, buddy!! 😚❤️🩷❤️

Lee!Ango, Ler!Dazai

Tw: None!

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"No." Ango sighed as he stood in the doorway of his apartment, staring irritated at the man who was standing outside, a bunch of beautiful pink and purple hydrangea held in his hands.

"Nawww, but Angooo! I never got to thank you properly!" Dazai. Why did it have to be Dazai?

"Look, look! I got you some chocolate, too! You wuv a widdle chocky-wocky, right?" He grinned, showing Ango the box of fancy chocolates he had bought for him.

This was because of what happened ages ago, with the car accident. Dazai really never did thank him or apologise. There wasn't time with everything going on. But he really wasn't in the mood for Dazais goofy ass right now.

"Look, Dazai, I appreciate the gesture, but now isn't-Ah!" He was cut off by Dazai shoving the bouquet of puffy flowers into his face as he pushed past into the apartment.

"Oh, don't worry! I've got plenty of time for you, buddy, haha! Wooow, nice place you have here! I can't believe you never invited me 'round before!" The detective grinned, kicking his shoes off by the door, spinning on his heels as he took in the decor.

Ango looked at the flowers. They were beautiful indeed. Dazai kept chatting in the background as he looked at the box of chocolates.

"This is half empty-"

"Ah! Well, I had to make sure they weren't poisoned!" Dazai advanced, leaning in close with a grin. "Seriously though," He spoke kindly, taking the flowers and setting them safely on the coffee table along with the chocolates.

Ango blinked as Dazai took his hands, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Thank you, Ango. For everything. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay your kind deeds."

Very out of character, Ango had never seen Dazai being this sincere towards him. He was almost lost for words for a moment.

"Dazai, I-"

"You're supposed to be smiling, silly!" Dazais hands suddenly grabbed Angos waist, digging his thumbs into his sides playfully.

The sound that followed was a loud yelp from Ango as he instinctively grabbed Dazais wrists.

"KYAHA! Dahazai! No! Nonono, we are noAHAT DOhoing thIHIS AGAHAIN!"

"Oho yes we aaare~" Dazai sang, his hands following Ango as he tried backing away, tumbling onto the couch cushions.

"Nawww, look at you, getting all comfy so we can play~"

"No! Nononono! Wait!" Ango fought off Dazais' hands as the detective straddled his waist, keeping him pinned to the sofa.

Dazai's fingers found their way into Angos shirt, tickling and poking at his skinny little tummy, making his skin tremble.

"Nahaha! Dazai! Sto-Stohop! Noho!"

"Haha, awww, such a cute smile~ Coochie, coochie cooo~" Dazai teased, grinning as he watched Ango slowly lose his composure against his tickling attacks.

His eyes crinkled as he squeezed them shut, his glasses sitting lop-sided on the bridge of his nose. This wasn't the first time Dazai had sprung a tickle attack on him. It was probably the thousandth by now, and he still never saw it coming.

And Dazai always loved Angos' reactions.

"Oooho, look at you squirm! How about here? Or here?" His nimble fingers danced over Angos torso, poking and skittering over random spots, making Ango squeak and flinch at every touch.

"N-NoHO! Dazai thIIHI- Thihis is AHA! I-I can't-! PLEEEHEE! Aha!" Unable to string a full sentence, Ango was stuck being Dazais little-

"Giggle buuug~"

"Don't call me that!" Ango flushed before erupting with laughter again as Dazais hands found his boney little hips, making him buck like a mad cow.

"NYAHAHA! Oho no! Noho! Get ohoff!" He flailed, his kicking legs tossing the sofa cushions onto the floor.

"Tee-Hee~ This always was your favourite spot, wasn't it, Giggle bug?" His experienced thumbs shook into the pit of Angos hips, circling and massaging that spot relentlessly. "Haha! Look at you! All wriggly and giggly! Nawww, da' widdle tiggle bug is sooo tiggly and wriggly isn't he? He so squirmy wormy!"

Ango threw his head back, his glasses toppling onto the sofa beside him. His cheeks were warm and glowing, small happy tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he laughed freely.

"Dahazai! E-Enough! PleheHEEEE-! Wait, wait, wait, wait!" He panicked as Dazai rolled up his shirt, pinning Angos hands by his side.

"You know I gotta do it, Ango~"

"Don't you dare!"

"I have to! C'mon, just one~"

"Noho! Wait! AAAHAHAA!"

Dazai blew a huge raspberry on Angos' pale skin, making him scream before, descending into hiccupy giggling.

"Oho shit! O-Okahay hic please, p-please. Shihit..." He panted, laying still as he caught his breath with Dazai grinning down at him smugly.

He chuckled, placing Ango's glasses back on his nose, ruffling his hair.

"I'll say it again, thank you... Giggle bug!"

"God you're the worst..."

"You flatter me~"

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Thanks for reading!!!

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #ango sakaguchi #sakaguchi ango #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #lee!Ango #ler!dazai #sfw tickles #sfw tickling community #gift fic

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doodling-doodle · 2 months

Text

So I like Just Dance

I don't normally make other content but @wainmfis decided to bring this up and give me an excuse to talk about this so thank you :)

Jack Rose with his own Eras Tour, along with many-a-headcanons for Jack and Wanderlust (Wanderrose tee hee) and the aftermath of JD2024

Buckle up, y'all, this is a long ride. I put this post into a word counter and it's almost 3,000 words. So, if you just want The Era's Tour stuff, I marked it in italic, bold, red, ALL CAP LETTERS

Alright, so, I'll get my Jack headcanons first

He started making music when he was fifteen and was allowed to release albums (With songs only approved by Night Swan on the album) when he was sixteen. He was allowed to choose his own genres though, as long as she fully wrote some of the songs.

His debut Album was Self Titled (So it was called Jack Rose)

annnd this is where that most of my inspiration on Jack comes from Taylor Swift and I have zero shame.

So all of his albums are mostly the same as hers, titles, songs, etc. (Except for 1989... how old is Jack right now? 28?? Lets say 28, it would be titled 1996)

However... there is one extra album, that happened between Speak Now and Red.

When he was around seventeen, that's when he finally used his slightly later curfew, when he was allowed to be wandering in Eternyx until eleven o'clock at night, which was insane for him because he used to only be out until nine-thirty at the latest.

He would wander around the streets for hours, running back to Swan Tower when he had about an hour and a half left.

Until the day that he found an abandoned bar turned hidden rap club in the small part of the city that Night Swan didn't go around often.

He had wanted to try putting out rap for a while, but Swan never allowed him, she said he wasn't good at it, it wasn't good music and it wouldn't do well under his name.

He would watch and listen from the outside, scurrying back home just in time for his curfew.

Until the night he decided to go in there. He had paid the servants (Hehe, serve) to not tell Night Swan he was out past curfew, and he went out to the little club in the city.

He would hide in the corner, in a hoodie to hide his face and in the dark. No one could now that he was there.

People came up to talk to him, eventually realizing who he was and quickly swearing that no one would tell a soul. That was the first time he really told anyone about his mothers ways.

They all welcomed him with open arms, and he had real friends for the first time in his life.

He would sneak back into his room through his unlocked window, the servants would fake pictures of him being in his room, either at his desk writing or in his bed on his laptop or asleep.

He eventually started fully making his raps, rather then just keeping them on paper, and he starting singing them at his little club, much to everyone's joy.

To his mother's horror.

He was under an alias (Not sure what to call him yet), and she made him not only drop it, but scaled back his curfew again and made him cancel plans to tour for months.

But she "punished" him by making him release an album full of his raps. That made him so happy, and it ended up becoming his favorite album, cover and all.

Lose Yourself. (So this is where Eminem inspiration comes in, plus NF)

When he got to tour for that album at the age of twenty, dressing how he wanted to dress, he saw his friends from the club, screaming in support. it ended up being his most successful tour before 1996's Danceverse Tour, where he finally got to leave Eternyx for the first time. That was when he was twenty-four. Even then, his mother still made him perform songs that she wrote for him. (Locked out of Heaven and Treasure for 1996)

That was the last album before the events of JD 2023. After that, it got out what Swan Army was doing, and while he wasn't blamed for what happened, he was partially questioned if he had any part in what she did to coaches.

After that, he fully detached himself from her, left nearly everything to his name in Eternyx and started a new life in Dancecity. He had an apartment and everything, he wrote songs but hadn't put out an album. Night Swan was still around, so he was scared about putting out the music that he was writing. He figured he could just get it out of his system and then write the things he'd normally write and put that out.

He got to keep in touch with his new friends, went to explore Danceverse's with all of them and was finally able to let loose- even managed to get back in touch with his old rapping friends.

But... Wanderlust was the one that was around the most, always coming around at some point, even if they just walked through the city together, running across the rooftops, or went to another Danceverse, or something, but Wander was determined to be around him. Maybe to prove a point to his father.

But months went by, writing songs together and going to Scarlet's Palace together...

Until Jack asked him on a date. And he said yes. And they kissed. They started dating about three months after the whole battle in Eternyx.

(Also saying this now, I always thought Jack was the taller one until realizing that Wander was... so I'm just gonna throw canon out the window, Jack is taller now, fight me-)

They kept it hidden, fully hidden, from Wander's parents and their friends, and any media attention.

Then... Well the thing happened.

My explanation for Jack being in Swan tower is that he 1. wanted to try and get some of his things while he knew Night Swan wasn't around, and 2. try and free some of the poor servants. He couldn't hear Wanderlust calling out to him.

So now he has to go on an adventure to free his friends and his lover.

Now... how do I go about describing Jack's powers/magic? Said powers were lying dormant after Swan tried to take it from him when he was young, but she did it wrong, and he still has them, and managed to re-awaken them. Not sure what song he would be dancing to for it, (kinda leaning towards Hope by NF, with the right imagery and maybe a few lyric changes it'd be perfect. Like imagine Jack having a battle with Mirror Jack?? Hell yeah!) but it would be right after Tainted Love when he watched the ship leaving.

So... said powers include, the same thing that Swan did with the water in the pond in the tower, visions, but also memories. Also with that, kind of what Mihaly did with the signal they sent Jack. Another thing is swan wings (Lets be honest Night Swan just jumping to the top of the top of the ship looked a little... weird. So now Jack can look cool while doing it) another thing with water!... I guess you could call it water manipulation? He's able to control waves, and storms to an extent.

I could go on about the adventure he went on, but that's for another time (maybe)

Long story short, Eternyx was collapsed, Jack found out the truth about why his brother (Yes, Cygnus) left, and why his father was never around (Vester), Wanderlust was drug out of Eternyx by The Traveler, screaming for Jack, Brezz and Mihaly ran out of there through a portal Jack made for them before he went to leave a parting shot to Night Swan. Si'ha took him out of there before it collapsed, took him to her palace and tried to help him as much as she could.

Wanderlust had a fight with The Traveler in the SpaceTime Hotel, was essentially disowned by him, and Wander went back to Eternyx to try and find Jack, shit happened, he found a crown that Jack had made for him, found out he was alive but he didn't know where he was, and left to Dancecity.

Like a month goes by, people realize what happened, and Jack is blamed for his friends being in danger (He also blamed himself) and a lot of shit Night Swan did, and Wander is trying to both find him and defend Jack, to no avail.

So Wander, of course, tries to go to Jack's apartment, to their favorite places, to other Danceverse's, to no luck.

Discoball is actually the one to find Jack at Si'ha's palace, and they go to him, show him just how bad Wanderlust was doing while searching for him. Jack immediately goes to find Wanderlust, and he does, taking him back to the palace, where Si'ha was waiting for them to get back so Wander could tell her exactly what his father did.

Anyway, time passes, Jack is still being hounded by media and everyone else other then his friends.

So... Yes, this leads to Reputation and his first tour in four years. No one knows that he and Wanderlust are dating still, have no clue who the person he's singing about in some of the songs are.

While still hounded during it, he managed to actually get the proof of him not being involved in Night Swan's schemes, which finally put a stop to some of the massive hate he was getting. He also got his first proper award from it, that he got to keep instead of Night Swan taking it from him.

A year later, when he finally feels safe to go out, he's seen with Wanderlust a little too much, leading to rumors and eventually, them saying that, yes, they'd been dating for about three years.

That's when Lover came out.

I could go on about headcanons for award shows, but not today.

He just never went on tour for Lover, and his albums went on, and there was something going on in the Danceverse's that stopped everything (Basically the equivalent of the pandemic) So by that point, Jack and Wanderlust had their own home, and they were stuck there. (Their social medias were unhinged during this time) So both of them were writing a lot of songs, leading to the first album of that year, Folklore. He and Wanderlust wrote it together, which was special to him.

But because of how insane they both were going, Jack kept making more music and put out a second album, Evermore, while Wanderlust actually made his own EP with music that he wrote about his dad and about Sara (I may elaborate about it another time)

So, now, lockdowns are lifting, and people are going on tour again but Jack didn't because he now had three albums that he would tour for...

So then two years later, Midnight's comes out, and the next year, he announces his tour.

The Jack Rose Era's Tour.

This is where I mention that... Jack re-recorded his albums, so there's "Jack's Version" Albums. When Eternyx collapsed, so did everything in it, which meant the record label he was under (Night Swan's, which meant she also had the royalty rights to his songs because she's an absolute bitch) was also gone, which meant his old albums existed, but weren't under his name. This is where he got to do all the vault tracks and even some of Wanderlust's music that he never put out.

THIS IS WHERE THE ACTUAL ERA'S TOUR HEADCANONS START HOLY SHIT I DIDN'T MEAN TO RANT THAT MUCH

So!

Let's start with the outfits.

Most of the bodysuits are the mostly same as the real Era's Tour, but I can't really see him wearing heels, at least not the type that Taylor wears, but I can see him in wedged shoes, not full heels but something. As for the dresses, those are replaced with suits and/or jumpsuits (Maybe he could pull off a dress... maybe)

As for songs/lyrics, some have been changed for the sake of context

For the Lover setlist, I'm replacing Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince with I Forgot That You Existed (If I can figure out good lyric changes to make it fit, that might change) and The Man with ME!

Fearless setlist is the same, though. (I love Love Story too much, I want to change lyrics/context for it, but if I can't, I'll replace it with something but not sure what yet) He also has something similar to the Junior Jewels shirt for You Belong With Me because it's so cute, and he has variations in the main outfits.

Evermore setlist is the same (MAN do I have headcanons about Champagne Problems, I'm putting Jack through the ringer. And for Marjorie, Oh this poor man.) However, while looking into it, some things said that Evermore's set had 'Tis The Damn Season, while others said it was No body, no crime? so for now, it's No body, no crime. The outfit is a flowy and long Jumpsuit, same color as the dress, and he gets the cape for Willow. (I might make drawings of all the outfits at some point, but don't expect them to be flawless designs because this guy seems hard to draw for some reason)

Reputation is the same, so is the outfit, BUT! This is where Wanderlust comes on stage with him too, singing all the songs with him, plus songs from his EP that fit (A lot of the songs on that EP were written around the time Reputation was written). Wander is wearing the mirror image of the outfit, the asymmetrical sleeve and pant leg on the opposite side. Wander sings the second verse and chorus of every song, except his own, which he sings most of them completely on his own.

Speak now is the same, with the dress(es) replaced with a full suit (That would match the dresses, so there would be one with flowers at the end of the sleeves and the pant legs, a purple one that matches the ballgown, etc.) And Wander is back! Similarly in a suit that would match Jack's, and he sang Enchanted with him, first verse and the bridge.

The extra era, Lose Yourself! His outfit here is basically the outfit from the actual Lose Yourself beta map. Songs would be Not Afraid, (Em, but this one may change) Hope, (NF) 'Till I Collapse, (Em) and of course, Lose Yourself with a slight outfit change. Wanderlust isn't here for this one

Red set is the same, and the outfit, shirts, 22 hat and the coat for All Too Well. No Wanderlust here :(

Folklore set is the same, dress replaced with a long jumpsuit with a vest, plus a bit of a cape (there's been multiple dresses for Folklore, right? I feel like there has been. So there'd be multiple suits) Wanderlust is on stage for Cardigan, singing the first verse and chorus, part of the bridge and the last chorus with Jack. He's in a similar suit to Jack's, just more of sleeves.

1996 set! songs are the same, but the outfit(s), while still a two piece, the skirt is more like shorts. Wanderlust is there for Shake It Off because it's cute. He sings part of each chorus with Jack, plus most of the background vocals and part of the second verse.

Surprise song set, most of the time it's both he and Wanderlust on stage, both in similar full suits, just different colors.

Midnights set, all the shirts, coats and body suits are the same, so are the songs. Lavender Haze and Anti-Hero are performed with Wanderlust. Wander does the first verse and chorus for Anti-Hero, and the second verse, chorus and bridge for Lavender Haze.

The Tour itself goes one for nearly two years, with breaks occasionally. Of course, Brezz and Mihaly are always in VIP seats in stadiums with Wanderlust's parents (It's a little awkward for The Traveler, which Wanderlust kinda enjoys knowing. Has he forgiven him? In the process of it. Not something to elaborate on now)

Jack and Wander are only slightly unhinged on stage together, more during the surprise songs when they normally just talk a little bit and have fun.

The Era's Tour chants are also here, because I love them (so Fearless Heart Hands, 123 Lets Go Bitch, Jack you'll be fine/ Wander you'll be fine, etc.)

But whenever Wanderlust and Jack are seen in public together on breaks, it's normally on a rooftop together on a "date" (COUNTLESS pictures of them just eating together on a rooftop in Dancecity, or writing songs together) Or in Sun Horizon, or in a mall, or a restaurant, Scarlets, just having fun together. Seriously, if their seen somewhere public, there will be multiple times where they are laughing their asses off over the smallest things

There is a new album, but I don't think it's going to be The Tortured Poets Department, since it's not even out as of this post, but maybe another rap album?

Buuuut... the end of the tour?

The very last show, there was an extra segment at the end of the show, after Midnights was over and they were supposed to just go backstage, instead, Jack added like an extra ten minutes to the end... to propose to Wanderlust.

Which he, of course, said yes.

And that concluded The Jack Rose Era's Tour.

JUST A QUICK ASIDE, IF YOU WANT TO STOP READING HERE YOU CAN

I'm honestly not sure if I will do more Just Dance content, at least not consistently. I will probably not make a full out fic, unless people really want it. This was fun to do, I want to do more, I just don't know when I will.

Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed this!

#just dance #just dance 2024 #jack rose jd #wanderlust jd #jack rose x wanderlust #wanderrose #jacklust #si'ha nova jd #the traveler #jd brezziana #jd mihaly #night swan #sara just dance #jd cygnus #jd vester de ville

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