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6cularΒ asked:
nasty ass wound you got there , nanamin . want me to kiss it better ?
random ask || always accepting @6cular
" I think I would rather die now than get a kiss from you. then again, If you're messing with me right now, I might as well pass out. You aren't Shoko who can tease me with kisses."
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β why do you hate me? β Β / to nanako π
@6cular || from: [ X ]
BLACK is the traditional colour of mourning && that is why nanako wears her new uniform without lending voice to complaint. the skirt is too long && the jacket swallows her; the chosen shade of blue is too dark && no amount of accessorizing can salvage something so plain ( theoretically, it isn't too late to make a request for something personalized, but that would be like admitting defeat ). BLACK is the traditional colour of mourning but WHITE is the true colour of death.
she sees death when she looks at satoru gojo.
she sees death in the snowy tresses that stick up cartoonishly from beneath a makeshift blindfold; she sees death in the bandages that hide his gaze from the scrutiny of the world β did he at least have the decency to take them off && look geto-sama in the eye when he dealt the killing blow? whenever nanako killed, it was nothing personal; she felt neither remorse nor relief ( no hard feelings! SAY CHEESE ). did satoru gojo feel anything? or does he wear BLACK to make a mockery of her pain? what right does he have to mourn?
volatile youth wears her heart on her sleeve. the HATRED in her heart is a subversion of LOVE; it festers like an open wound && her desire for vengeance glistens in the reflection of eyes like daggers.
β geto-sama said that you were his precious friendβ¦ && you murdered him. β she says, voice straining under the weight of the sudden lump in her throat. β i don't need six eyes to see what that makes you. i will NEVER forgive you, satoru gojo.β
π₯Ίπ₯Ίπ₯Ί
you're embarrassing me in front of itadori....
his hand slips under the back of suguru's thighs , it doesn't even take that much strength to lift him up bridal style and meet his eyes because he's been being rather annoying by ignoring satoru's demands to buy hamburgers for lunch βββ oi oi oi . suguru . ββ the drawl of his voice contrasts against the serious glare of his pretty eyes from behind the shades . he presses his forehead against suguru's ; it's a quiet day at the mall today , another proof that yujiβs worm man movie was shitty . well , he got to make out with suguru in the dark while the kids watched it . thank god they left .ββ don't ignore me . . . eh ? β π
β β πΏΒ Β sensibility wasn't the strongest layer to his skin β more like it was dressing. gold foil , paint . the obligation for decency pillowing a body that'd kicked out a little, clacked fingertips to the glass face of his phone before it'd fall some great height οΉ . sunk himself into the bracket of familiar arms . a magnet, clicking in place ; the furthest thing from πππππππ, but suguru's made a superficial load bundled around by the whims of someone stronger yet. he can't help the yawn, when it comes. sighed out soft, straight into satoru's face. β ehhh .. what, is it my fault ? i'm conditioned to just expect short vignettes of time out of you . β caustic , half laughing . one leg crosses comfortably over the other ( while the seat's offered ! ) οΉ . suguru returns tapping fingers to his phone, scrolling search results for summer vegetables and if human earthworm was based on true events . β will you eat slowly ( and pick up the tab ) ? i want to date all day . β i want to come home late by choice . greet you to bed bone - tired from anything but work, for once .
he's perched on the counter , nibbling on a piece of lemon candy , sour and sweet . too focused on the crease of suguru's soft shirt over the bump of his hips ; the mission went bad . satoru looks flawless as ever , suguru has a bruise on his cheek - he wants to break something . and everyone came to visit him , even the lower grade sorcerers that didn't quite know suguru .ββ suguru . . . everyone is so fond of you . β ππ
β β πΏΒ Β he's better off unsightly , according to shoko, dented in like unwanted fruit for having had too many hands pass it over β brought it on himself with the fold of an unimpressed expression when suguru'd shouldered off his dirtied jacket οΉ . heaved the words out like the world's weightiest burden, β i didn't mean to worry anyone ... but it's a necessary evil that everyone remembers there're things out there that'll knock even the best off their game, isn't it ? complacency kills, after all. i won't take the blunder to heart, knowing some good's come of it . β and her eyes had flickered, rolled, bounced with the flop of her head against the cot's sanitary linens ( 'wow . what would we do without your noble sacrifice .' οΉ . declined to heal him any further . )
blunders came with paperwork , though . pretty as he'd build it up by the wave of his hand οΉ . a smile creasing the extra color in his cheek, pillowed now into one cupped hand while his pen scratched, scratched the hour, the date, the location β a pause in the coil of the characters in satoru's name in the moment his voice'd come creeping, curling softly . melting such an extended stretch of silence that he'd halfway forgotten he was there, halfway imagined he'd have wandered out once the cloud of onlookers had ; gravitated to the center of all energy . cursed or of the social sort. suguru tucks his bangs behind his ear, feels them swing right back over his cheek . β yeah ? my capacity to carry cordial small talk sickens you, i know, so you've made that clear. all i mean is that the audience at your own sick bed would prob ab ly rival mine if they weren't all convinced you'd chew them out at the door β hell, i'm not convinced they're wrong. and you'd never get hurt anyway . β distraction softens, molds to relief of a reason to let the pen clatter down to the tabletop, amusement, contentment, some scattering of a private humor screwing up his expression when he folds his arms behind his head οΉ . stretches .
the capacity, to play ball . bullshit when it wasn't genuine, saccharine bursting between grit teeth ( not a thing shared, satoru's tongue untrained to be kinder than it was barbed, tart as the scent of citrus on his breath . ) that's why you should make sure not to discard me, unspoken in a smile. no matter what . can't trust you to speak for yourself, not with ones like the higher ups : i should always be there .
γ € γ € the puzzle of satoru β more like a tangled ball of string . stubborn cords needing coaxing, patience . unwound with hands willing to see through point a to point b . he'd already sat crowned king of society by the time suguru'd stepped a single foot into territory already touched by one boy's six eyes ; maybe he should've fought more, struggled further, been more put out in feeling himself ( like all things ) becoming something belonging to satoru . his, his. rival, friend. best friend . all his, and there's nothing ever worse than the indulgence of a sidelong look, a chuckle breathing noise to the cut of a knowing smile . the bump of his heels against the wood when suguru'd propped up to sit beside him, sides nearly touching, holding a hand in wordless expectation at his chin until satoru'd relent οΉ . spit the candy into his palm β possession is belonging . a home carved into the shape of him. β your bad aura rushed everyone off, y'know. happy now ? you're the one and only one i'm paying attention to right now. β the candy's sweet when suguru holds it between his teeth. all the sour already melted away .
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babe , i took a personality quiz and turns out i'm only 45% your soulmate . so i bought the website and now it's 100% . π
β β βΒ Β β your personality .. ? and it didn't short circuit ? β hair sticks to his cheek when he angles his head, soapy wet from a wrist absently brushed to his cheek while he'd stacked the scrubbed dish set ( cute and thrifted, painted with tulips : needing boiling οΉ . bleach, dirty fingerprints scoured off before anyone'd eat a scrap off the surface . ) his eyes creased to happy - shaped cuts, dark lashes in the gloom of a furrowed brow β was that his beloved's unchanging nature ? toying out of boredom with all things suguru could hardly hope to graze with his longest fingers, but ... it was just a flashing phone screen. website riddled with ads, declarations, colored text . a conman adoring a man happily conned, leaving mangled gifts at his step like a thankful cat. proud teeth speckled with blood, feathers . β that's too selfish of me, keeping you from your real soulmate . β the last plate clicked down οΉ . suguru'd turned with a towel rubbing the water from his hands ; hip propped to the counter's lip, eyes shut with a smile . β i always thought you needed somebody older , to look after you well . could be that it's mei - san β she'd whip your spending habits into shape, at least . or utahime ... yes, the pair of you would make a handsome vision, provided she keep to her side profile for the wedding photos . now who should i hope for .. ? β
β’ β’ β₯ ; @6cular , continued from HERE .
β β βΒ Β it's nothing of the same , his bath's water is sweet with suds sifting around his fingers where they'd dipped past the warmth of a boundary, dripping loud between their pausings, splashing soft when suguru'd rinsed his neck οΉ . thumbed froth from his throat β it's nothing of the same of the salt of the seaside . shaking the sand from their shoes and smelling the beach in the bedsheets, in the sway of satoru's sleepless head . in the blood drying like red ribbons into riko's braid ( it's not the same, and he knows, when satoru's lashes flutter wet and a confession that he was tired had been kiss enough on the soft of his palm ; honesty its own embrace, its own compliment coloring in the blanks of suguru's expression, softening the planes of a face accustomed to it's fine, i'm fine, don't worry . i'm the strongest . ) his fingers mold around satoru's face. cupped his cheek. pressed lips to his brow and peppered down to his nose's bridge , to the hollows of his eyes, a flickering blink like a butterfly's wings before he'd say through an exaggerated roll of his neck, through dampened hands folding his sleeves up to the elbows β is that just you pawning responsibility off on me ? tsk . β οΉ . knelt to dip arms into the water's waning warmth, to pluck satoru out like a role of a bride and prop him resting, dripping, at the pearled edge .
the towel is soft where he'd wound it around satoru's shoulders, draped low over his chest. white as the hair suguru'd gingerly scrubbed to a fluffied damp before he'd returned to that knee set hard into the cool tile, fingers hot where they'd wrapped around an ankle οΉ . toweled his skin dry by the calf upwards β methodical, careful . favor like a task of worship, an idle hobby, nothing so far from tending to the weeds in his garden ( had he ever set his cheek on the soil the way he had satoru's thigh then, kissed the roots like he had his pale veins, ever looked at the sprouts of a shrub the way almond eyes roamed up from under his lashes, thinking him ... something beautiful, alight by the setting sun . for more than so much skin warmed in a peach blood rush . ) suguru looks, looks. lax fingers letting the towel droop at his knee, dampened by satoru's body. breath buried into muscle with the decisiveness of the shut of his eyes, murmuring, β this time .. how long can you stay ? β
β’ β’ β₯ ; @6cular , β , β’ he .. boops suguru . on his nose . when he promised he'd let him read his stupid book . π«΅π»
his brow's soft tick is its own snapping tell, warned rattle ( but when satoru's been rearranged with limbs bent beneath him, wrists in the circle of suguru's squeezing grasp, the pattern of his pulse singing its accomplishments against his skin β it's just what he's let happen . play fighting, teeth wet on an iron throat οΉ . thinking it like a kiss' aftermath . ) suguru sighs straight into his face, sharp, irritation easing by the flutter of feather white hair, white lashes, and casts a sidelong glance where his book'd clattered. split open at the spine, a page at random pressed into the floor . β you lost my place . β
