YOU'RE A FREAK LIKE ME ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

summary. your rich, older brother drops you off for your first day of college—but he doesn't leave without giving you a pep talk about boys first. | wc. 3.8k+

cw/ tw. dark content (when I say the dove is not dead but it's on life support), dubcon, naive reader, jealousy, possessive behavior, stepcest, corruption kink, pet names (ex. baby), daddy kink, age gap (reader is 19, gojo is 27), intended for 18+ readers

pairing. gojo x fem!reader

an. hello! me again because I guess I can't stay away, heh. I hope you've all been doing well, though :3 reblogs are appreciated!

You’re ten when Satoru comes into your life as your new older brother. An Ivy League sweater and soda-stained jeans hanging off of his tall, lanky frame, his face twisted into a scowl because he’d tripped over one of your Mary Janes you’d left in the middle of the entryway.

It takes several years for the looks of mild disdain to turn into him kissing your scraped palms when you try rollerblading for the first time. Another few years and he's taking you and your friends for a ride in the new sports car he gets when he graduates from business school. Slowly, you form what some might call a weird relationship—a quasi-parent in regards to yours never being around—closer in some ways that would make other siblings look twice.

“We’re all we’ll ever need,” he’d told you after your stepfather steadily fell out of the picture and when your mother never returned from the grocery store, “just you and me.”

A promise. One you know he intends to keep.

Your brother—stepbrother, he likes to remind you as if it makes a difference—always ensures you’re taken care of. Stocks the freezer with your favorite ice lollies, gets you whatever shiny thing catches your eye, and decorates the spare room in his house for you. It’s nice laying in a big bed that’s all your own, safe and warm under a mountain of soft blankets—no limit to the lengths he’d go to make you happy.

You should feel so lucky to have ended up with such an amazing brother, and you do.

There's just one rule (because, of course, there is) that he holds over your head: no boys.

The air in Satoru’s car is tense, and you tap your fingers against your leg to the music quietly pouring through the speakers to alleviate some of the tension. It’s been like this since you told him you wanted to live in the dorms, have new life experiences, and do adult things he won’t let you do.

That last one didn’t go over well.

His long days at the office have been your only saving grace from his sour mood, or else he’s pouting and stomping around the house, clearly unhappy but unwilling to break whatever thin layer of peace is left.

For most of the drive, you keep your gaze averted through the passenger window. It's not until the last several blocks stretch from campus that he finally speaks up.

"You could've stayed with me, you know.”

“I’m an adult now, Toru.”

“And?”

You nearly forget how stubborn Satoru can be when he doesn’t get his way.

"Wouldn't living with my stepbrother take the fun of experiencing my freshman year?” you argue weakly, with your tongue petulantly poking your cheek.

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue with a small sigh. “You also forget you'd have to drive me to classes." Because even though you’re trying to make the case of being a big girl, you’re still not ready to get your license.

"It's not that great, trust me," he tells you for the nth time since you brought up moving out. "And I wouldn't mind, kiddo. I've been doing it for how many years now?"

“But don’t you get tired of chaperoning me everywhere? Plus, what if you bring girls over? They'd be turned off by your little sister still hanging around." You ignore the little niggling ache that sprouts in your chest at the thought of Satoru being with someone.

"You wouldn't have to worry about that. Girls, I mean.” He says the words slowly as if it was stupid of you to suggest that his sex life could possibly benefit from having the house to himself, and again, that feeling grows tenfold.

But if you really think about it, you can’t recall the last time he attempted to date. Maybe back when he was still an undergrad in business school? Either way, you drop the subject because he’ll continue pressing the issue until he’s blue in the face.

You give a little hum when the campus comes into view, your mouth spreading into a smile when you glance at him.

And for a split moment, you’re reminded of how handsome he looks in his sunglasses and the neatly pressed bespoke suit you convinced him to buy for his birthday last year. His long fingers impatiently tap along the shiny steering wheel while he waits for the stoplight to turn green. It’s almost hard to ignore how your stomach flips pleasantly (it always is) when you catch him in moments like these.

It’s another feeling you bury underneath years of calling him your brother—because it’d be dirty to think of him any other way.

“Well, we’re here,” you manage, throat tight all of a sudden. “There’s no turning back now.”

He leans over and places a large hand on your exposed thigh—a gesture meant to be comforting, you’re sure, but it does nothing more than make you squirm in your seat with how close his pinky is to the edge of your skirt.

Satoru squeezes your thigh. “We can always turn around and go back home.”

“But then you’d be late for work.”

“Baby, I’m the boss. I can be late every once in a while.”

Whatever retort you had ready fizzles into white noise the moment he uttered the word baby.

He hasn’t called you that since he used to tease you for being a crybaby. Now, though, it feels different. Sounds different.

“Just say the word,” he continues, oblivious to the unsisterly thoughts that have taken over inside your head, “and we’ll stop by at that little sweets shop you like on our way home.”

The more he brings it up, the more you’re tempted to say yes , to tell him that you already prefer your soft bed over the standard (and most likely hard and well-used) one in your dorm. How you’ll miss his too-large breakfasts for two people and cuddling on the couch in your softest pajamas with your favorite shows playing on the TV—and you feel that he knows this, too.

But you also want to prove to him (or yourself) that you can live independently for a year.

“I’ll be fine, Toru. I’m a big girl, remember?”

You’re practically clinging to him from excitement (or maybe it's nerves) as you scope the residence halls packed with students and their families.

Satoru insists on carrying most of your luggage, even though you tell him you can take it yourself. But he laughs at you struggling to lift the bag full of shoes before he plucks it from your hands and throws it over his shoulder with the other two bags like they weigh nothing.

It takes thirty minutes of wandering around the campus to realize you’re lost, regretting never showing up for orientation in favor of staying at home with Satoru because you’re positive you walked past the Fine Arts building twice.

Luckily, help comes from a cute boy with pink hair sitting at a long plastic table, stacks of paper neatly piled on top, and you finally stop to ask for directions.

His smile is a mile wide when he notices you—a contagious thing that has you shyly smiling back. You quickly disentangle yourself from Satoru so as not to seem lame in front of the boy for hanging onto your older brother. "Hi, I'm Yuuji," he says cheerily. “How can I help you?”

“I can’t find my dorm.” You’re almost embarrassed with how timid you sound.

When you give him your building and room number, Yuuji shuffles through the papers on the table. Then he says your name, pointing at a column marked with a yellow highlighter.

You feel your face grow warm at the little smile he gives you, playing with the tiny S pendant on the gold necklace Satoru gifted you as a graduation present. "Uh, yeah, that's me."

“You just have to take the first left past this courtyard, and it’ll be the building at the very end on the right.” He hands you a map of the area—not before underlining the part that’s your dorm.

“Thanks,” you tell him sheepishly, grabbing the paper from him.

Yuuji gives you another bright smile, head tilting to the side. "I can swing by when my shift ends in forty minutes and show you around if you want?"

You don’t miss the little once-over Yuuji gives you, making you subconsciously tug at your tennis skirt. You’d only picked it out knowing how hot it’d be; now, you are all too aware of how much skin you have on display. Satoru takes that moment to make his presence known behind you by tossing an arm around your shoulders and glaring down at Yuuji, who slightly shrinks back in his chair.

"Uh, sure, thank you," you say quickly, turning away to avoid Satoru embarrassing you further before following Yuuji's directions.

After the little exchange with Yuuji, Satoru stays quiet instead of returning to his montage of making terrible points about why living on campus is the worst idea you’ve ever had, his expression unreadable, stony even, until you open the door to your dorm.

You spin in a circle with your arms spread out. "Look how big it is, Toru!"

He doesn't say anything, and when you look over, his lips are pressed into a thin line as he closes the door and locks it. You assume he’s probably tired from the drive, thinking about work, the suit still sitting at the cleaners—

Those thoughts shatter into tiny pieces at your feet once he sits on your bare mattress and crooks a finger.

“Baby, come here.”

There he goes with that nickname again, your stomach flipping without your say-so.

It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking with his glasses still covering his face, and you huff.

“Toru—”

“I said, come here.” Something in his voice makes you hesitant to disobey. You want to please him. You like it when he’s proud of you, and unlike the months before spent arguing over nonsensical things, you care that he might actually be upset right now—because it’s not often that he’s upset with you.

Satoru watches you with an even stare as you move on shaky legs to stand between his. You’re about to open your mouth to ask him what his problem is, but his fingers grip your jaw, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to bring your face forward.

“It wasn’t very nice of you to ignore me back there. Are you embarrassed of your brother?”

A shudder runs through you at the feel of his minty breath fanning over your lips. He’s too close for you to think clearly.

You shake your head. “I-I’m sorry.”

“Sorry, she says.”

His brows knit together as he mimics the little nod you give. “So you’re not going to let that boy in here? He’s not going to touch what’s mine, right?”

His?

None of the questions you should ask make it to the surface as you wonder about this new development—being his —how you’ve maybe always known but too scared to put it into words.

The hotsweetwrong feeling of his name on your tongue at night while you have your hand underneath the elastic of your sleep shorts is your own terrible secret, and the one time you smothered the word Daddy into your pillow (because you've long since weighed the idea of him filling the place of Daddy and brother) and you couldn’t look him in the eye for three days straight afterward.

One thought layers over the other, and you part your lips to take in more air in hopes of parsing them out but dominating them all—

“Toru,” you whisper.

“Go on,” he nudges, ever patient. “Don’t be a brat. Answer me.”

“No.” It’s an effort to form a proper sentence, every syllable lodged in the back of your throat. “No, he won’t.”

“Oh, baby,” he says, low and patronizing. He clicks his tongue, head cocking to the side. “I think you’re lying.”

Part of you doesn’t know what to say or how to react. Satoru has never talked to you this way or held you in a way that a brother shouldn’t. You can feel him through your skirt, where one of his large hands keeps you planted between his legs, and the callouses on his fingers are so rough against the soft skin of your cheeks.

Sure, you’ve thought of this before when you couldn’t sleep. But that’s all they were, thoughts, small fantasies to help take the edge off on muggy summer afternoons and restless nights—shameless secrets you kept to yourself in the safety of your soft sheets.

This, however, cracks the glass boundary that should never be crossed between family. Even if Satoru isn’t the blood of your blood and his hands stay high above your waist, his lips not quite touching yours. One slight head tilt could change that.

You cling to this small amount of reason and hope to find the same amount of conflict etched into the curve of his mouth, in the crease on his forehead, or in the hard set of his eyes; there’s none, just raw want.

Your bottom lip starts to wobble before you can stop it. You’re not upset as much as you are overwhelmed. “Toru, why are you being so mean?”

“Because you’re mine, baby.” The pad of his thumb smooths over your cheek. “And I have to get that through your pretty little head.”

Then he brings your mouth down to his, licking away the little squeak that falls from your lips. His teeth catch your bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth and kissing you in the heart-stopping way you usually see in movies.

There’s another soft sound that escapes your throat when he pulls you into his lap, your thighs falling on either side of him, barely balanced by your hands on his broad shoulders. His fingers pull apart the tiny buttons on your blouse until it’s falling open to the sides to reveal your baby pink lacey bralette.

“Cute,” he mumbles against the curve of your jaw, and you wonder if he’s also thinking about the time he went with you to buy it.

You whine when his fingers find your nipples through the sheer material, rolling them between deft fingers until they’re flushed and sensitive to the touch. “Daddy!”

It takes you a full moment to realize what you’ve done: how it easily slipped between your teeth in a way it shouldn’t have, just from a few simple touches—not that you could have helped it. Regardless, you feel heat crawl up your neck and his thumb hooking under your chin.

“Say that,” he rasps, jaw clenched, “again.”

And when he drags your hips down against the prominent bulge in his neatly pressed pants, you’re sure the sound of you moaning the word Daddy is loud enough to be heard past the door.

“Fuck,” he breathes, gaze tilting down to where your bodies meet. He pulls you closer, bucking his hips against yours and, this time, bumping into your clit.

“Right there, right there.”

He glances up at you, mouth tilted up ever so slightly. “Yeah? Does that feel good?”

You nod vigorously, tears that had been clumping in your lashes finally falling.

Satoru thumbs them away. “I bet you’re wet, baby. Just from me playing with these pretty tits, huh?”

You’re positive he can feel the wet heat leaking through your underwear, staining his suit. And you can’t say anything other than whimper in embarrassment.

“Poor thing,” he croons. “How about I make it better, okay?”

He brings a hand down between you, and it feels like a little shock runs through you at the feel of him running a finger over the damp fabric of your panties under your skirt—easily finding the pulsing little bundle of nerves there.

“O-oh,” you gasp. Your hands tighten around his shoulders, nails biting into the expensive material of his jacket. “M-more, please.”

“So polite. You like it when Daddy rubs your little clit?” he hums, tongue swiping across your shuddering flesh. “Can you handle more if I give it to you?”

At the first shake of your head, he’s sliding your panties down, helping you sit up on trembling legs until the delicate fabric drops to the floor.

“Look at you,” he runs a thumb through your wet slit, spreading your puffy lips and smearing the slick that's gathered there with imprecise little circles. “All soft and wet. You’re so good when your Daddy plays with you, huh?”

You’re too focused on his finger tracing up to your clit and down to your entrance to answer—shocked at how different Satoru’s fingers feel from your smaller ones. How they bring goosebumps to your skin and make your back arch, how no boy has ever touched you like this—not that your brother has ever really given them a chance to try.

There’s a mix of shame and something else in your gut that the one making you feel this way isn’t just any boy. The problem is that you want this with someone you shouldn’t, and you’re sure no one can give it to you the way he can.

The moment his finger finally sinks inside you to the first knuckle, you jolt in his lap with a choked moan. “Daddy.”

He starts to pump his finger in and out of you, sucking a spot into the underside of your jaw that’s meant to mark. “There you go, baby,” he kisses over it, adding his middle finger to join the first.

They’re easily thicker than your own—two of them feeling like three—touching a soft patch deep inside you that has you squealing and squirming on his lap. Your shaky breaths and the sound of Satoru fingering your cunt fills your room, and you’d be embarrassed if not for the fluttering in your stomach.

And just as you’re about to ask him to make you cum, his fingers slip out of you.

“Not yet,” he says with a smirk.

The whine dies in your throat while watching him unbuckle his belt and tug down his pants to reveal a cock that belongs in porn. It’s thick and long, twitching and leaking from the purpling head. There’s no way it will fit, and you don’t realize you said this aloud until Satoru chuckles.

“It will trust me.”

You cry out when he presses the velvet tip against your clit, until he drags it down, parting you open over and over again to coat himself in the mess between your legs. Then he holds himself at your entrance.

“Go on,” Satoru groans at the feel of your dripping cunt fluttering against him, teeth gritted, and pulse jumping in his neck. “Slide down on it.”

Gnawing on your lip, you try, you really do, but you feel like he’s stretching you to your limit, splitting you in two just from the tip pressing into you alone. Shaky arms and thighs burning to keep you from sinking too fast on his cock.

Your breath sticks in your throat as you slide up his thick length, and then it comes out in one large exhale as you stretch yourself down on him again.

“I-I can’t,” you whimper, huffing. “S’too big.”

“What would those guys say if they knew you didn’t know how to take cock, huh?” he teases, but there’s an edge to his words that swarm your stomach with butterflies and make your eyes well up in humiliation. “Trying to be a big girl, yet you can’t even do this.”

“I’m trying,” you hiccup, wiggling your hips and gasping when he slips in another half-inch.

He grips your hips in large hands, “Here, lemme help. Hold still...Fuck. Fuck—there you go, baby.”

Your eyes roll back when he presses into the hilt, and you can do nothing more than hold on as he starts to bounce you onto his fat cock—working you open until you’re just a pulsing thing for him to use. You clench down hard around him on a particular thrust that makes you see white dots, and Satoru twitches inside you with a feral groan.

"God, baby, look at you," he growls, sucking another mark into your right breast. “So fuckin’ filthy for letting me ruin you like this, letting me stretch this pussy until it’s only fit for me.”

You sob a garbled series of yesyesyes and DaddyDaddyDaddy.

A knock on the door jolts you out of your haze, but he only holds you against him tighter as you try to squirm away—the grip on your hips almost bruising. And his thrusts turn rough and quick at the mere fact that the person on the other side can hear him ruining you for anybody else.

“I’m not stopping until you cream on my cock. I want them to hear how good your Daddy makes you feel.”

Then he reaches down to thumb at your clit and—

You break.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, hands clawing at his back, you release a moan that rings in your ears. Satoru fucks you through the wave cresting in your belly while you shake in his arms, telling you how good you are against your ear until he cums, too, hot and thick inside you.

And again, you’re reminded of how handsome he is as his jaw falls slack and white strands of hair messily fall onto his forehead.

After a moment, his lips trail kisses from the tops of your breasts to the hollow of your throat, rasping, “This is my pussy. Nobody else gets to touch it. You understand?”

Tired but sated, you nod.

He helps you straighten your skirt and button your shirt, kissing your forehead as he stuffs your ruined underwear into the pocket inside his jacket.

A sniffle, his big hand smoothing the hairs away from your face just as you slowly drift through the vast sea of fucked-out bliss and back to your body. “Toru…take me home.”

The smile that slowly splits across his face gives you the smallest inkling that he'd planned for this to happen all along. You were just slow to catch up.

"Stay here. I'll go move the car," he says as he leaves your dorm with the same bags he carried there and his cum still dripping down the inside of your thighs, smirking at the blushing boy with pink hair who still has his hand raised to knock on your door.

...and Yuuji remained there, confused and horny. Thank you for reading:3 I hope you have a lovely day!

More Posts from Cherrykx and Others

cherrykx

3 years ago

We know this ad seems desperate (it is). Please try our journaling app, Day One. It’s pretty cool and free.

49K notes View Post

cherrykx

3 years ago

Hibernation would fix me

38K notes View Post

cherrykx

1 year ago

KISSIN' AND HOPE THEY CAUGHT US — DAZAI OSAMU

⊹ CW(s): f! reader, suggestive (kissing, touching, and making out in the office), dazai being a menace, established relationship, mentions of marriage, lovesick! dazai

⊹ SYNOPSIS: in which he wants you, and for you two to get caught

inspired by: agora hills by doja cat !

dazai osamu could never keep his hands to himself. he was dazai for goodness sake, and he has no shame, especially when it comes to you.

he enjoys being near to you at work just as much as he enjoys being with you in private. so, dazai takes every opportunity to be with you, whether it's holding your hand or twirling a strand of your hair in his hand while you work on reports, subtly leaning his head against your shoulder, or secretly squeezing your thigh, and he always loves the pink blush that spreads on your cheeks as you whisper yell him about pda.

but that's what makes it so difficult for him; dazai loves you too much to keep you a secret. you were his, and he wants everyone to know who you belong to, as well as who he belongs to.

you were about halfway through the papers given to you by the president when dazai slides next to you in his swivel chair, whining as he clings to your arm, "belladonna!~"

"osamu, i'm busy," you smile and giggle, but you quickly switch up, changing your tone as you sigh and flick his forehead, prompting a tiny scream and pout from him, "busy doing the papers you should be doing, mister."

"oh, come on! everyone has already gone out for lunch, and we're the only ones left here!" dazai grumbles as he wraps his arms around you after rubbing his forehead.

"and you insisted on staying with me! ugh, well maybe if you helped me, we can both get some lunch like the oth—" your eyes widen as dazai snatches the papers from your desk, putting them out of your reach and even causing some of the notepads and pens you had on your desk to roll off.

you gasp sharply, opening your mouth to scold him, but he slams his lips against yours, earning you a groan from him.

dazai's hands reach for your waist as he feverishly kisses you, his warm lips pressing deeply yet eagerly against yours.

you turn your face away, attempting to avoid his kiss as you let out a soft whine, trying to tell him off, "not now, osamu!"

but, alas, he closes the gap between you once more, this time much closer as his hands tenderly slide down and hold your hips to pull you into his lap.

dazai feels you squirm on his lap and finds himself chuckling in between the kisses, but he simply holds you firmly, one hand tenderly carressing your hip and the other now on the back of your neck to hold you in place.

how could he resist such a work of art as you? the way the sunlight from the window delicately highlights your face just for him to admire as your hair frames everything perfectly like icing on a cake, and don't even get him started on how you always smell so sweet like vanilla with your perfume.

dazai loves every single part of you and feels the need to be always closer to you, so he has his attention on you like a moth to a flame as you were a temptation for him.

you're so warm and plush in his embrace, and you can feel his warmth seeping through your clothes as much as his hands tenderly hold you in place on his lap.

"m-mmh, osamu. please—" you try to speak again, but he shuts you up with his lips once more, his kiss a demand as well as a declaration of love and desire.

"hush for a second, pretty girl," dazai's breath tickles your lips as he pulls away just a fraction before his lips were on yours again.

"then stop eating my face," you whine softly, grabbing his shoulders and successfully yanking your face away from him.

"aww, and why should i?" dazai says, smirking as he caresses your hip with one hand while the other glides from the back of your neck to your cheek to cup it, "you're just so tempting my dear."

"w-we're at work!" you stammer, squirming on his lap once more, "now put me down or else we might get caught, osamu!"

"too bad," dazai rolls his eyes at you, pinching your cheek before pulling you by the chin, so you were now nose-to-nose with each other.

you feel blood rush into your cheeks at his proximity, and even more so when he says the following words to you.

"i want us to get caught."

at this point, your face was on fire. in fact, the room—no, everything becomes too hot all of a sudden, prompting you to raise your voice out of surprise, "w-what? are you crazy?!"

"crazy in love with you, that is," dazai winks at you before tracing your cheek with his nose, trailing it down as his breath tickles your neck this time, and his breathy voice sends tingles up and down your spine, making you unable to sit still on his lap, "and you have no idea just how far a crazy man would go for his darling angel."

"your hips are an altar i would worship anytime of the day, my love," he whispers as his hands sensually trail from your neck and waist to your hips, squeezing them as he kisses your neck.

as one of his hands began to slip under your shirt, your breaths hitch and you couldn't help but let out a soft whine, and dazai revels in the feel of your skin as he kisses your neck, writing his love on it with marks and soft groans.

"and i know heaven is a thing because i go there whenever i touch you, and whenever i'm with you, baby," he groans with indulgence as his lips continue to kiss and bite at your neck, his hands slipping under your shirt now, caressing your side, the spot just under your chest.

dazai's emotions were all over the place, but it was desire mixed with exasperation. he immerses himself in the sensation of your lips and body during the heated moment, closing the gap between you with undeniable intimacy.

"fuck, i wanna tie the knot," he says in hushed mumbles, completely in love with you.

dazai lifts his head from your neck and presses his forehead against yours tenderly, his hands now cupping your face at a daydream of you that he has now engraved in his mind, "i wanna see my pretty girl in a wedding dress, walking up to me to be with me til' death do us part."

"and i just wanna show her off. tell everyone she's mine and no one else's," a soft, low growl escapes his breath as he claims your lips one more time with a feverish deep kiss to mark his territory, but this time it comes with a hint of tenderness as he strokes your cheek.

"osamu, we're gonna get caught," you say softly, your breath shaky, your hands still gripping his shoulders as he continues his assault of kisses.

"then let them catch us, sweetheart. you're mine to brag about," you feel dazai's smirk against your lips, and his hands on your hips again, but this time they're sliding down to squeeze your thighs in a firm grasp that causes you to squirm on his lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

dazai then purposefully but playfully bounces you on his lap, causing you to let out a sharp gasp mixed with a whine. suddenly, you hear footsteps outside the office door just as his hands begin to slip further past, and your eyes widen. it was as if he knew your coworkers were about to return from their lunch break, and he did know that.

your heart rate increases with strange excitement and fear. you squirm and try to pull yourself up and away from his lap, but he simply holds you tighter against him, his arms now locking around your waist to keep you in place.

"h-hey, now! let me go!" you whisper yell.

"oh, no. you stay right where you are, my pretty girl. i'm not letting you go," dazai says with a grin, finding amusement in your panic, "nope."

"what are we gonna tell them if they see us like this?! kunikida is gonna scold us!"

"heh, tell em' that we were kissing and hoping they caught us~"

"OSAMU!"

⊹ A.N: happy halloween! ok, but like, after re-reading this and stuff, this was waaaay better in my head ૮꒰ つᯅ⊂ ꒱ა ՞ˎˊ˗

2K notes View Post

cherrykx

3 years ago

Lmfao this is funny as well as wholesome

this is the funniest thing I’ve read in my LIFE

242K notes View Post

cherrykx

2 years ago

i miss him (fictional character that i can rewatch or reread at any time i want)

74K notes View Post

cherrykx

1 year ago

mornings

15K notes View Post

cherrykx

1 year ago

“they should invent a man who only loves one woman”

gojo ‘i love my gf so much if we ever break up life will not go on’ satoru exists 🙏

404 notes View Post

cherrykx

1 year ago

star — itoshi sae.

characters: itoshi sae × gn!reader

warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationships, heavy codependency, burnt out sae, word vomit, sae is an idiot that’s too in love, and sae who’s emotions are all over the place.

word count: 2.3k

synopsis: the world itoshi sae once envisioned is so hazy, barely non-existent anymore. and it’s all because of you.

note: the nicknames/callsigns "mi amor" and "mi vida" mean "my love" and "my life".

aged up characters | please read at your own risk!

my singular interest is becoming the best in the world—is something itoshi sae remembers saying to someone with much conviction.

oh, how he lies.

sae reminds himself to never let his mouth speak such nonsense driven by his now crippling ego. sae wants to go back in time, tell that stupid interviewer that he doesn’t care about being the best in the world if it means being the only one in your universe.

itoshi sae fell in love, to put it simply.

his singular interest is you. it doesn’t matter when, where, or what happens—it’s only you, the one and only other piece of his dull soul. when sae loves you, he feels it overwhelmingly all over him, too. he feels his body tingle with tenderness, he hears his breath shudder when talking to you, and so much more. at first, it was weird. although after a long run? it became addictive.

he longs for you in every way, even if you’re already his. sae doesn’t quite understand why, but he also feels like it also doesn’t matter; because he deeply misses your soft giggles that warm his neck when you’re too close to him, he misses your scent—fuck, he misses everything about you. so, naturally, sae feels like his heart is being ripped apart with every flight he has to take back to spain. during many occasions, sae almost begged you to go to him: interlocking your hands together until he reaches the entrance of the airport, not bothering to let go until you have to pry yourself away from him; and even staring sadly into your eyes with the faintest pout on his lips.

perhaps—no, sae is fairly certain about this—being away from you is one of the most agonizing things he has to experience in this life of his. sae wishes to curse his soccer team, his manager, or even anyone who arranged such a game far from home. or rather, far from you.

you’re so far away; he’s in his lukewarm apartment in spain, while you’re in your homey abode in japan. it sucks in his bedroom here. it’s awful, boring, and you-less. his bedsheets are soft, sure, but nothing will compare to the feeling of hugging your waist and burying his face into your soft skin. he takes a deep breath—it could be that he’s merely dreaming this boring setting, when you’re really lulling him to sleep—that’s why he’s stuck in it, yeah. yeah no…fuck, again, sae misses you far more than his patience could handle.

tiredly finding his phone on his mattress, his hands find its way to your contact in an instant, and he calls you. timezones be damned, because sae can’t take it anymore.

“shit,” sae feels his lips twitch, wanting to let an amused breath be heard by you over the phone. “uhh…hello?” it seems that only now do you think you’ve picked up the phone, voice dry of sleep.

“i love you.”

“huh?”

“i also miss you.”

“sae?”

“hi,” sae’s voice is muffled by his pillow, his face burning up as it still hasn’t adapted with his slippery tongue pouring affection onto you. “what’s wrong? it’s…uhm, 4am here, you know?” your voice is much clearer now, and it’s accompanied by a loose giggle into the phone’s speaker. sae knows you have an answer to your own question, he’s that obvious. “mn. sorry. i-” sae’s heart beats louder and faster when he hears your giggle once more become a tune to his ears. “love me? miss me?” you complete his thoughts, and sae holds onto every second of it. he hums quietly, nodding guiltily even if you couldn’t see it. “‘s okay calling me, sae. but i’m a bit sad right now.” your voice acts, and sae practically sits up his bed, phone pushing harder onto his ear to hear what’s happening.

“did something-”

“mhm, i was dreaming about you, and then…you woke me up.” you groan rather loudly, however, easing some weight on sae’s shoulders. “sorry for that too, mi amor.” he apologizes like he’s committed a sin; although deep in his heart that’s all for you, it probably is considered a crime. “fine. but do know that it’s suuper unfortunate.” sae’s heavy sigh of relief widens the smile on your face. god, the tension of amusement on your end is enough to be felt by sae—who knows what sae would do to see you with that pure smile right now.

“is it really unfortunate now? was the itoshi sae in your dream better than me? your real boyfriend, speaking to you right now?” instinctively, sae pouts as his eyebrows twitch to furrow, hoping for the answer his childish self wants. “hmm,” sae’s jaw slackens in disbelief, did you really have to think about it? his pout worsens, he can’t believe you had it in you to tease him when you’re probably half asleep, although, he may or may not really mind. “i like the sae in my dream better, maybe.” sae now scoffs, rolling his eyes pathetically. “mi vida, why are you like this?” sae questions, but that doesn’t particularly matter. at least, not when despite anything your personality gives him, he’ll accept.

“aren’t you curious, though?” you continue to tease.

“hmph. of course i am.” and sae’s adoration for you continues to indulge.

“remember when you took me on our first date?” your voice goes softer now, fond of the memory and storytelling. “do you think i’d forget?” how could he, though? how could sae forget how he regretted planning such a boring date—all because he didn’t think he’d fall into such a deep trench to love you? “c’mon, don’t be so down now, sae. it’s a good dream, promise.” it’s most likely, because as you’re thinking of the words to say, sae hears your covered yawns consecutively.

“felt like i relived our first date, you know? really nostalgic. we were walking out of the convenience store late november with a bag filled with your favorite popsicles.” your dream is spot on already. sae’s heart beats a little faster again. “then, we went to your favorite spot by the sea. it was extra cold, too. but we still ate the popsicles.” you laugh, warming sae’s thoughts as he reminisces about the chilly winds of the evening that you dared not complain about. instead, sharing countless of frozen popsicles sae still feels numbing his tongue with the kindest, most precious smile he’s ever seen.

“yeah, i remember that. why’s the sae in your dream better, then?” you’re a bit silent, as if unsure of what to explain.

“mi amor?” you only hum, still thinking about it, it seems.

sae gulps slowly—anxiously. because sometimes, itoshi sae wonders deep in his complex emotions that he’s weary of.

“mhmm, i’m still here.”

sometimes, itoshi sae wonders why out of all the people that could’ve and should’ve treat you better, you decide he’s the one.

“it’s just that, i guess i missed having you around right beside me? ah, but i think i’m just speaking nonsense, it’s almost past four thirty.” you don’t spout such things as nonsense, anything you have to speak about, sae withholds with utmost seriousness.

right now, itoshi sae is at that spiral of sudden insecurity.

“you- i’ll go home as soon as i can.” sae mutters, voice wavering as a part of him is scared. of what? losing you? a bit childish, still. he knows you’ll understand, everything and anything he’ll go through. it’s why he fell in love so deeply in the first place. you’re the first person to give him back the amount of love he never knew he was even capable of. don’t leave now: his heart whispers.

“sae, wait,” he can’t hear you, at least, not when his senses are fully enveloped in the listing of available flights back to japan as soon as possible—at 2am in spain in a bit looks promising enough for him.

“sae, listen to me first? you’re not going back here yet, you still have a game next week.” you remind him, but sae doesn’t care. “that doesn’t matter, current team i’m with is pretty shit. anyway, i miss you a lot, too. so it’s alright.” sae feels his stubbornness root from his core and out all across his body, and he feels guilty.

“itoshi sae.” just before sae could click his booking of the plane ticket, your stern voice halts his actions. a thin coat of sweat heats his palms as he fidgets with one finger. “mad?” he asks, throat clenched. “no, not at all. just, let’s talk, okay? promise me you’ll listen.” sae hears movement from your line, you’re probably beyond serious right now, sitting up on your bed, back resting on your headboard as your eyes look at the ceiling. “…sure.” it’s a promise.

“you know why you’re in spain, right? to pursue your dream—your passion, sae.” he wants to shake his head and deny everything, he wants to tell you to not continue any longer, because eventually, sae wouldn’t even know what to answer. “and i’m here back home, because i also have my dreams here. you understand that, don’t you? you miss me, and i miss you—that’s so normal, because i love you and you love me back, right? you’ll come home when you can, but not now,” why? is something sae wants to ask. “not now when your goal is right in front of you.” no—you’re not right on that one. “you don’t have to forfeit anything related to your dreams for me, you know that. i’ve told you that, yet you’re still as stubborn as ever, huh?” you let out a breath, your voice is neutral yet still heavy of sleep in hopes to reach him.

sae isn’t giving anything up, truly, he is not. his career from soccer has already gone shit, anyways. ever since he’s given up being the worlds best striker, he’s felt empty; trying to compensate with his new, still shitty, ambition of being the best midfielder there is. realistically, sae can’t give anything great up when everything is already lukewarm in his life.

however, in this life of his with only you matters; when the circumstance is him defying you as his sole dream—then, he has nothing to lose.

“i would quit football for you.” sae whispers, shocking not only you, but himself at the bluntness.

“you wouldn’t.” sae knows he shouldn’t, because you wouldn’t like that.

“i would, if you wanted me to.” rationally, he’s an idiot to say such things. because all his life, itoshi sae has been so inhospitable, never understanding certain lengths people would go through for another. all his life, he’s never felt like this. the version of himself three years ago—the him who stated that he has no other interest aside from being the best in the world—would curse him off, never to accept this current state of his. even though sae knows how to act, he throws out all that rationality when it’s you he’s thinking of.

to quit soccer for you? he would fucking do.

but is it for his own selfishness? he doesn’t know.

“i don’t want you to.” he knows. your voice a tad bit disappointed at him, and he’s a tad bit disappointed at the answer. “you can’t just throw everything out for me, sae. i wouldn’t like that.” reluctantly, sae closes the tab for booking flights with your low voice looming over him. “why? would you rather me be in spain for who knows how long?” sae tries to humor, although his voice falls far too seriously once more.

“i’d rather have you here with me. but…” sae’s breath hitches, clutching on his phone harder, eyes moving too much.

“but?” please, his heart begs, be something he’ll want to hear. tell him to go back to japan, tell him to leave everything behind in spain. please, his heart begs again. again. and again.

“hm, not if it means you giving up something you’ve worked hard for in the very beginning. that would be a waste, no?” fuck—how many times will his mentality scream at him? it’s not a waste. nothing is a waste for you. if him abandoning his career means being with you for as long as you allow him to, then it’s okay. if you being with him means he certainly has something to love and hold up to, then it’s beyond okay.

“mi vida, i-” sae lets out a shaky breath, he doesn’t know anymore. the corners of his eyes burn, and it starts to warn him of tears. “mi amor, what’s really wrong?” you answer back, voice so clear it makes him look to his side to see if you’re possibly with him in spain. now, he thinks you’ve pierced through a barrier sae never realized has been built. it crumbles, almost instantly, too, and sae confesses the first thing eating at the back of his mind: “i miss you so much. i want to go back, it’s so lonely here.” because you’re not here, is what sae wishes to express further.

“are you tired?” now, sae understands a part of him better. through the years of dating, he’s subconsciously relied on you for anything and everything. what matters to you is his guide on what should also matter to him.

itoshi sae, now understands that your love and care for him is one of the sole basis of his composure.

“very much.” his voice is so fragile, and sae hates how he’s aware you’re aching for not being there to physically comfort him and his collapsing mental figure.

he’s desperate, so please, do something about it. his body pleads entirely now, tears frantically pouring down his face with nothing to solace it. you hear him sniffle, hiccup—everything. you hear it. you wish you understood the underlying need of his, but he wouldn’t blame you if it were a bit later, as well. because sae only now discovers just how far the roots of his distress reaches.

“i see. then, come home, mi amor. i’ll be here waiting for you.”

336 notes View Post

cherrykx

3 years ago